#ch2 was wild actually

[jaythes1mp]

5070 words, 29086 characters, 239 sentences, 116 paragraphs, 20.3 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Please send me requests. I love writing but I can only do it with actual ideas to motivate me🙏

On your late-night journey home, you're cornered by one of the numerous street criminals prowling the streets of this cursed city. Getting mugged in Gotham isn't anything out of the ordinary, but even still, you can't help but feel surprised. It seemed that strangely enough, the past four years, thugs had begun to avoid you like the plague.

This was a situation you hadn't found yourself in since you were just a fifteen-year-old kid, still struggling to find your footing in the grimy underbelly of Gotham.

The street thug pinned you against the wall, holding you in place while her accomplice jabbed the cold barrel of a gun against your head.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, fear and panic clawing their way up your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat, a cold sweat pricking at your skin as you instinctively raised your hands in surrender.

As the cold metal of the gun was pressed harshly against your temple, you fought to tamp down the tremors shaking your body. You knew that any wrong move could spell disaster, so you forced yourself to remain still, praying that the thugs would be merciful enough to let you free.

Your mind raced as thoughts of the worst-case scenarios flickered through your mind. The thug with the gun pressed against your head sneered, her grip on your shoulder growing tighter as she spat out a threat.

The sheer terror you felt in that moment was overwhelming, threatening to swallow you whole. The harsh reality of the situation settled on your shoulders like a crushing weight. You were all too aware that you had no experience in dealing with situations like this, leaving you feeling vulnerable and powerless. Your eyes squeezed closed, a lump forming in your throat.

The rough brick of the wall dug into your chest, the cool air of the night doing nothing to soothe the panicked frenzy of your heart. The thug's hand on your shoulder was a vice-like grip, their fingers digging deep into your flesh.

In times like these, you regretted ever turning down the self-defense classes that your old employer had offered. The weight of that decision settled heavily on your shoulders as you longed to have the skills to protect yourself from the imminent danger.

You silently berated yourself for your naivety and carelessness. It had been foolish to believe that just because the villains had avoided you for the past few years, you would be safe from any harm. Yet, here you were, pressed against a wall, a gun held to your head by street thugs.

As your thoughts ran wild, your mind spiraled into a whirlpool of grim possibilities. The thought of your friends' reactions to your potential death played through your mind - the pain and grief they would feel upon losing you. You wondered if Damian would be upset about his sketchbook, the most constant connection you had to him. If Jason would be filled with anger at the inconvenience of tidying up your belongings, if your... no. She’d probably find relief in your absence... You wondered if Tim would shed tears in sadness. The image of him crying, tears streaming down his face, left a bitter taste in your mouth. Then you thought of Bruce. Would he be disappointed you never got to accept his offer? Your thoughts spiralled as you got increasingly more upset. Who was going to feed your pet turtle...? Would she think you abandoned her?

The weight of those unanswered questions gnawed at your thoughts, the possible reactions of your friends, pet, and the people who had offered you a place to call home. Your mind latched onto the image of them crying, the thought of any of their tears causing a pang of anguish to settle deep within your chest. You didn't want to imagine your friends' pain upon your loss, but the what-ifs haunted your mind like a relentless ghost.

The rough bricks of the wall dug into your chest, the sharp edges of the broken and uneven surface biting into your vulnerable flesh. The cold, unforgiving metal of the gun against your skull pressed further against your skin, an imminent threat hanging in the air. You clenched your teeth together, fighting to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape from the back of your throat.

Damian's heart raced in his chest, thumping out a rapid rhythm against his ribcage. Disbelief and anger twisted his features into a fierce scowl. From his stealthy perch on a nearby rooftop, he had silently tracked your movements throughout the night, his gaze never straying far from your form. But now, as he watched intently as you were cornered by a bunch of worthless thugs, his protective instincts surged through his veins. How dare these lowly criminals think they had the right to touch you?! Especially after all the efforts he had expended to ensure your safety. You were his sibling.

The sight of you in danger ignited a fire within him, burning hot with both rage and protectiveness. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. How could he have let this happen? He had been so careful, making sure to keep watch over you from a distance, and yet here you were, at the mercy of criminals who were nothing but scum. His fingers dug into the edge of the rooftop, the urge to leap down and intervene overpowering his self-control. He didn’t have to think twice before swinging into action.

Damian swiftly made his way toward you, propelled by the rooftops with practiced ease. The cool night air kissed his face as he bounded between buildings, his agility and precision a testament to his years of training. He remained hidden from view, his black, yellow and grey costume blending into the shadows, allowing him to quietly approach the scene unnoticed.

As he drew nearer, he could hear the thug's threats, the cold barrel of the gun pressing closer to your head. His temper flared, a dangerous heat building in his chest. These worthless lowlifes were going to pay for putting you in danger.

Robin, perched high above, kept a vigilant eye on the unfolding scene. Every word from the thug's mouth only fueled his anger. He assessed the area, taking in every detail with a cold, calculated gaze. The street was eerily silent, devoid of any other souls. No potential witnesses or interruptions to hinder his intervention. This moment was perfect. A chance to make these pathetic thugs pay for their audacity. They dared to touch what was his.

Each breath Damian took was measured and steady, his heart drumming steadily in his chest. He knew he had to act swiftly and with precision. He couldn't afford any mistakes. You were his responsibility – his blood. No one was allowed to touch you. No one.

Robin’s muscles coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. His eyes flickered between the thugs and their guns, mentally calculating the best course of action. His instincts were on high alert, every fibre of his being focused on the mission: protecting you.

He’ll make a mental note to have you under tighter security starting in the immediate future.

With a final, calculated assessment, Robin silently prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation. He would protect you at all costs. The thought of you getting hurt, because of his carelessness, was unacceptable. He would eliminate these fools before they could even think to touch you again.

The woman holding you, pinned your arms behind your back in a rough and painful grip. Their hold was unyielding, causing your arms to bend in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. You couldn't help but let out a small, pained whimper, the sharpness of the maneuver making you wince.

Your eyes pinched shut, and you forced yourself to take deep, measured breaths. It was your attempt to steady yourself, to hold back the wave of panic and fear that was overtaking you.

Your chest heaved with the force of each breath, trying to regulate your racing heart. A small shiver ran through your body, the fear and helplessness of the situation gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pressure of the woman's grip on your arms made you want to squirm and struggle, but you steeled yourself against the natural inclination.

Robin, like a silent wraith, leaped into action. His katanas moved in a blur, swiping the gun away from the goons' grasps before they could even register the movement. His presence was both dangerous and deadly, every muscle tensed and coiled like a predator ready to pounce. His sharp, grey eyes fixated on the thugs, a silent warning in their depths.

A sharp gasp slipped past your lips as the cold metal of the gun abruptly lifted away from your head. The sound of it banging loudly against the gritty, dirtied concrete ground echoed through the air, the sudden absence releasing a tiny bit of the tension that had been coiling painfully in your chest.

You stayed still, barely breathing, your body locked in the woman's tight and cruel grasp. Her hold on you was unrelenting, an indication that any wrong move would result in snapped bones. You couldn't turn your head to see what was happening, fear and pain keeping you rooted in place.

The woman's grip on your arms tightened, a painful reminder of the danger of any movement. You were trapped, unable to see what was happening behind you. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to struggle and get away, but the fear of severe injury made you hold yourself perfectly still. The only thing you could do was remain in this terrifying, vulnerable position.

Robin's mouth curled into a snarl, his anger flaring as he saw you trapped in the woman's grasp. Your small gasp of relief at the gun being removed from your face only fueled his rage. How dare these pathetic humans touch you, his sibling, his family, without any regard for your safety and wellbeing. The thought alone filled him with anger he had trouble controlling. He had failed you.

As Robin stood before the thugs, his katanas held at the ready, he locked his gaze with the woman holding you in her iron grip. His eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, a silent challenge in their depths.

Robin's gaze, burning with righteous anger, fixated on the woman who held you captive. The air around him crackled with a dangerous aura, his muscles coiled tensely as he held himself back from pouncing on the pitiful excuse for a human being in front of him.

The woman holding you in an iron grip was clearly an amateur, her sloppy and harsh moves betraying her lack of experience. She seemed to rely on brute strength, rather than skill, to overpower her victims.

Her careless and overly aggressive approach was a stark contrast to Robin's years of training and discipline. He took in every detail, every movement and expression, noting the flaws in her techniques. She was like a novice facing a seasoned warrior. It was downright pitiful.

To Robin, the woman's every move stank of amateurishness. Her clumsy and brute force tactics were as subtle as a bull in a china shop. It was clear that she had never received any formal combat training; relying solely on the ability to intimidate and overpower her victims. In comparison, Robin was a paragon of discipline, control, and skill. The difference in their approaches could not be more stark. She was insulting you for even thinking someone like her could ever be in your presence.

The woman's lack of finesse and skill made Robin's blood boil. She was like a pathetic child playing at being a thug, an insult to the name of criminals everywhere. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut with restrained anger. He could see her flaws from a mile away, her amateur tactics screaming for correction. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, his mind racing with possible ways to take her down without harming you further.

Robin's intense gaze continued to pierce through the woman holding you. He was like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and taut, ready to pounce at the very next moment. He couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion as he observed her sloppy moves. This is the type of amateur who would get themselves killed in Gotham in the blink of an eye. His anger flared further as he saw how carelessly she was handling you, her fingers digging into your flesh in a painfully tight grip.

For a brief moment, he considered just knocking the woman unconscious and freeing you from her grip. But then, with a cruel and calculated grin, a different thought occurred to him. He wanted to teach her a lesson. Maybe if she was truly frightened, she might actually learn something.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Robin tossed one of his throwing stars at the ground, the sharp and sudden movement drawing the woman's attention. Startled by the sound, she turned her head to look at the star, her grip on you loosening just a fraction.

Robin seized the opportunity, and in the blink of an eye, he moved behind her, his footsteps so silent that they made no sound.

The woman's eyes widened as she realized Robin's presence behind her, but before she could turn to face him, he had her by the throat, his hand encircling her airway in a firm grip.

As Robin observed your trembling form, your eyes still squeezed tightly closed, his heart clenched in his chest. He could see the fear and helplessness your body was radiating and it infuriated him. You looked like a terrified animal caught in a trap, desperately trying to hide from your captor. The thought of how scared you must be only served to fuel his obsession. You needed their protection.

Robin's grip on the woman's throat tightened as he drew her closer to him, his face inches from her ear. His voice was low and filled with a dangerous edge as he snarled, "You dare lay a hand on MY family and think you'll get away with it? You're a pathetic excuse for a thug."

The ringing in your ears and the shortness of your breath is all you can focus on, having not heard the boy’s words. Luckily for him.

Seeing that you were still too scared to open your eyes or listen, Robin tightened his grip even further on the woman, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his head closer to her ear. "You thought you could get away with this? Pathetic."

As the woman began to struggle in his grip, her eyes widened as she realized the severity of the situation. Fear and panic filled her gaze, and her chest began to heave with labored breaths. Robin took a sadistic pleasure in seeing her fearful reaction. He smirked, his grip unwavering.

He was enjoying this. Teaching this low-life a lesson was like music to his ears. He wanted her to be terrified, to feel the same fear she had inflicted on you. You were his family. His.

As the woman gasped for air, her attempts to break free growing more frantic, Robin leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching her ear. The smirk on his face only grew wider. "Not so strong now, are you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery.

As the woman's grip on you suddenly loosened in panic, it caused you to lose your balance and fall unceremoniously onto your knees with a thump. The sudden movement startled you, freezing you in fright. Your limbs locked up in response to the sudden movement, leaving you vulnerable and exposed as you knelt on the dirtied ground.

Robin's heart stopped as he saw you fall to the ground with a thump. His eyes widened briefly, his grip on the woman loosening slightly in shock. He watched as you knelt on the ground, frozen in fear and vulnerability.

His protective instincts flared up, and he had to suppress the urge to immediately rush to your side. Instead, he forced himself to remain focused, keeping the woman pinned in his grip.

Robin's sharp gaze snapped from the woman to you as he heard the thud of you falling to your knees. Concern immediately replaced his previous satisfaction. He could see the terror freezing up your body, rendering you frozen and vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth, feeling a mixture of anger and worry. He needed to get you out of this situation, preferably without causing you further stress or harm. His grip on the woman tightened again, cutting off her panicked gasps as he held her at bay.

With a quick, sharp jerk, he slammed her against the wall, the force knocking the breath out of her lungs. "Stay still," he commanded, his voice harsh and authoritative.

He then turned his attention to you, quickly crossing the distance between you. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes flicking over your form, assessing for any signs of injury.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness of moments ago. He reached out a hand, gently touching your shoulder as he tried to coax you out of your frozen state.

You looked up, your eyes wide with surprise and wonder, as you took in the sight of the young vigilante towering above you. Your throat closed up for a brief moment, your mind struggling to fully believe that it was indeed Robin, the Robin, standing before you.

You managed to force out a meek whisper, the word barely audible. "Robin...?"

In your current frightened and bewildered state, there are a million questions and thoughts running through your mind. In a normally clear state of mind, you would have jumped at the chance to ask the Boy Wonder for an interview. In this moment, however, the only thing you manage to let out is a hesitant whisper, his name. Your mind trying to piece together the reality of the situation.

Robin knelt down in front of you, watching as realisation flooded your eyes. He could almost see the thoughts spinning through your mind like a whirlwind. For a brief moment, he was thankful for your stunned silence. It gave him a chance to assess the situation without being bombarded by a thousand questions.

He watched you take in his presence, your gaze wide and filled with wonder and disbelief. The word 'Robin' escapes your lips in a barely audible whisper.

He nods slowly, acknowledging your tentative recognition, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He could see the questions brimming behind your lips, but to his surprise, you remain silent. It seemed your fear had rendered you speechless, and for a moment, he found himself relieved. It gave him a few precious seconds to focus on the task at hand: getting you out of danger safely. He gave your shoulder a firm, gentle squeeze, his voice remaining hushed as to not startle you further.

"I'm here, you're safe." He tried to keep his tone calm.

Robin swiftly scooped you up, pulling you against his chest in an easy movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to pause, relishing the feeling of having you so close to him. His heart beat fast and loud in his chest, an undercurrent of fierce protectiveness and possessiveness rushing through him. The thugs already forgotten, as he now focused solely on getting you to safety.

As he quickly leaped from one roof to the next, never slowing his pace, he spoke, his voice low and even. "Where do you live?" He’s already running in the direction.

He kept a firm but gentle grip on you, making sure that you were held safe and secure in his arms as he ran. The wind whipped around you, cool and exhilarating, as Robin navigated the Gotham rooftops with practiced ease. He repeated his question, his tone now slightly more demanding, as he continued traversing through the city.

You tried your best to gather yourself, blinking against the cool night air buffeting your face as Robin held you against his chest. Your voice was soft and slightly shaky as you spoke, the wind attempting to carry your words away.

"Just... just around the corner.."

Robin nodded, accepting the information without question. His strides didn't slow as he continued moving, the muscles in his legs propelling him forward with trained speed.

The city lights flashed by as Robin swiftly carried you through the maze-like labyrinth of Gotham's rooftops. His strides were long and purposeful, his movements fluid and precise. His arms held you firmly, one hand tucked under your legs and the other looped around your back.

Despite the circumstances and the speed at which you were moving, he took great care not to jostle you any more than necessary. It was clear that you were in pain and scared, and he wanted to minimize any further distress.

“... thank you.”

As you murmured your thanks, Robin's heart clenched in his chest. The pure gratitude in your voice was a stark contrast to the vulnerability and fear he could feel in your trembling form. He wanted so badly to respond, to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he was willing to do to protect you, but he remained quiet. He had to stick to their plan. Right now, he was solely focused on getting you home, where you would be safe from harm. His arms wrap tighter around you. He gives a simple nod in response.

You lifted your hand slightly, carefully pointing in the direction of your apartment balcony. The gesture was small, but it was enough for Robin to understand your meaning.

Without a word, he altered his course, angling his body to head towards the balcony you had indicated. Each leap and bound over the city skyline brought him closer to your apartment, the destination in sight.

Despite his casual demeanor, Robin was fully aware of the path they were taking. Years of patrol and countless hours of study had etched the city's layout into his memory, a map constantly present in the recesses of his mind.

He could flawlessly navigate the maze of Gotham's buildings, his muscles and movements guided solely by pure instinct. Every twist and turn was memorized, a testament to his extensive knowledge and dedication.

As they approached your apartment, he adjusted his hold on you, preparing to make the final leap onto the balcony.

With a final powerful bound, Robin lands on the balcony gently, steadying you against his chest. He carefully lowers you to the ground, his hands lingering on your body for a moment longer than necessary, as if ensuring you were truly safe and sound.

He takes a moment to glance around the vicinity, his eyes scanning the area for any potential threats. The Gotham night is relatively quiet, the sounds of the city reduced to a hushed hum in the background.

Once satisfied that the area is clear, he turns his attention back to you. He takes a step back, giving you a moment of space. His eyes watch you closely, searching for any signs of distress or injury.

He lifts a hand, reaching out to gently touch your cheek. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. Emerald eyes searching your form. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Despite his mask concealing his face, the concern in his voice is palpable. He takes a step closer to you, his hands moving to your shoulders as he steadies you against him. His gaze remains fixed on you.

You gently shook your head, a small, reassuring grin playing at your lips. Despite your earlier fear, you were clearly feeling somewhat better. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the simple fact that you were safe now.

Robin noticed the shift in your expression, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows as he looked down at you. He could feel the tension slowly draining out of your body.

Robin observed the small smile on your face, his eyes studying you closely. The brief moment of relief he felt at your reassurance was quickly replaced by a sense of caution. He could see the adrenaline still coursing through you, but he knew from experience that it was a temporary high. The fear would return sooner or later.

He nodded, accepting your answer but still feeling a small pang of unease. "Are you sure you’re okay?" he repeated, his hands still on your shoulders.

Your brows raise in slight disheveled amusement. This was the infamous arrogant vigilante? You call bull.

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Thank you.”

Robin's eyes narrow slightly at the amusement in your tone. Despite your gratitude, he can sense your slightly disbelieving and slightly amused. For a moment, he wonders if you are treating him like a kid playing dress-up.

He straightens up, his grip on your shoulders tightening ever so slightly. He cocks his head to the side, his voice a mix of annoyance and determination.

"What's so funny?" he asks, the slightest hint of defensiveness in his tone.

Despite the irritation in his voice, there's a hint of vulnerability. He's not used to being questioned, especially not by someone he feels responsible for. He wants to be taken seriously, to be seen as more than just a young boy playing at being a hero.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "I'm serious. You could’ve been seriously hurt," he says, his voice stern. He's not used to expressing his emotions openly, but the thought of you in danger is making his typically controlled facade start to crumble.

You bite your tongue, holding back the sarcastic remarks and jokes that usually come so easily to you. You were well aware of how close you had come to serious danger, and the severity of the situation.

Robin can see the restrained smirk, the flicker of a joke on your lips, and it irks him more than the actual sarcasm. He's used to dealing with sarcastic criminals and sarcastic bats, but the thought of you making light of your own safety is frustrating. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his annoyance under control.

"This is no joke," he finally says, his voice firm. "What you did was stupid. Walking alone in Gotham at night."

Robin's eyes held a mixture of emotions, anger and frustration and worry and protectiveness. But beneath it all, he was most angry and frustrated with himself. He should have been there sooner, he should have been able to stop those thugs before they even got close to you. This event was only proving to him what he already knew - you were not safe in the city, not without someone to protect you. They needed to speed up with their plan before he goes insane.

He withdrew his hand from your cheek, the loss of his touch leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. He fidgeted with his utility belt, a nervous habit.

"I have to go." He murmured, his voice low and laced with a hint of reluctance. His eyes scanned over you one more time, mentally committing your features to memory. It was as if he were trying to memorize every detail, every curve and contour of your face.

"Be sure not to walk alone at night. Or ever." The last words came out as more of a command than a warning, a hint of desperation laced in his tone.

Before you could even think of a response or express your gratitude, Robin had already vanished into the night, leaving you standing alone on your balcony.

Despite the circumstances, a soft, almost wistful grin crept across your lips as you replayed the events of the night in your mind. Despite the danger and the near brush with violence, you couldn't shake the thrill of meeting the young vigilante, the Batman’s associate himself.

Even though you didn't get to ask all the questions you wanted, the encounter was still something exciting.

You silently crept into your room, taking care to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Jason who was probably asleep in his room down the hall. You shrugged off your bag and jacket, discarding them to the side before crawling into the safety and warmth of your bed. You bring your hand out to tap softly against the glass of your turtles enclosure as a silent good night, cuddling further under the blankets.

Feeling the comfortable weight of the sheets surrounding you, you let out a soft sigh, already feeling the exhaustion starting to pull at your eyelids. Unaware of the chaos that was brewing at Wayne Manor, nor the many sets of watchful eyes observing you through the carefully placed cameras that dotted the room.

The cameras strategically placed throughout your room recorded every subtle movement as you got yourself settled into bed. Every blink and every shift was captured in sharp, high-definition video, the images streaming directly to the computer screens at Wayne Manor.

In the depths of the batcave, the video feeds played on several large screens, each one displaying a different angle of your room.

Multiple figures looking over the room full of monitors, displaying your every breath, every toss and turn as you drifted off to sleep. Watching each and every twitch, each flutter of your eyelashes.

The silence in the batcave was heavy, only disrupted by the soft hum of the computer equipment and the occasional murmur between the group of figures huddled in front of the bank of monitors.

Each screen showed a different angle of your room, the camera feeds streaming smoothly, giving an intimate view of your every movement. Every breath, every twitch, was recorded, observed and analyzed by the watchful eyes monitoring you. Every inch of your room was on display, the cameras capturing even the tiniest detail.

Even in your sleep, you were still being watched.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for reader, no mention of gender.

Does anyone have any ideas for the name of your pet turtle?

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 4

ch1 ch2 ch3

Kon and Peter: clown to clown communication commences.

New York had some massive craft stores. Peter had to direct Kon to one, which was fair but nerve wracking since he didn't actually know for sure it existed here. 

Luckily it did. 

Kon’s stepdad must have been loaded, or maybe Kon didn’t understand finances the same way that Peter did. He loaded up a cart with everything that Peter pointed out. He got two pairs of sewing scissors, which was a wild decision Peter could barely wrap his mind around. Was Kon planning to cut with both hands at one time, or for buddy crafting sessions? Those things were like fifty dollars a pop!

Some consultation with the staff helped them get metal decorative bits and three different sturdy mesh fabrics, one of which had glitter on it. They were all black. Peter eyed Kon for that, kinda impressed by the commitment to an aesthetic. Kon was like a little kid in the store, rolling down aisles on the back of the cart and tossing everything in without even checking prices. Peter found himself caught up in the euphoria and talking waaaay too much shit about projects he wanted to do, despite knowing he definitely couldn’t afford it. He really shouldn’t have. But Kon actually seemed interested when Peter talked about his design for a spidersuit- in a subtle way! And Kon just wheeled back to the big section and started trying to talk him around on the merits of red and blue tinted leather instead of athletic fabric.

It was funny, so he went along with it. And then Kon tipped the entire rolls into the cart and went in search of thread to match.

Peter stared at the back of his head for a long moment processing. Was he for real?

“Hey, I didn’t mean today,” Peter said, scrubbing a hand through his hair and trying to sound casual. “I don’t have any cash with me. I mean, I’ve got some, but not like that much-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kon interrupted. His voice was a little weird. Almost short. Like he really didn’t want to talk about money. “I have that covered. Luther pays for whatever I want as long as I keep in contact.”

“...Okay, thank you,” Peter said, because that seemed like a great minefield to stay out of. He mentally reclassified Luther to an estranged and possibly financially abusive Dad, not a Stepdad. “Hey, if we’re sewing leather, I don’t think we can do that by hand. You want to look at the machines?”

Two industrial sewing machines and a serger later, Peter desperately and unsucessfully tried to talk Kon down from buying his very own bedazzler. He slouched behind Kon in the checkout line, wondering if this was just the kind of mistake a man had to make for himself. No way was he actually going to get enough use to make it worthwhile, right? Right?

The total made Peter feel kind of green. Kon paid for it all with a swipe and not so much as a blink. Then he bundled up all the bags and hefted them with no apparent effort. 

“Hey, let me help,” Peter protested, strategically snagging a couple. They had two sewing machines for jiminy cricket’s sake, that had to be heavy for a normal guy. 

A moment too late, he realized that Kon was a big strong guy who lifted a lot of weights. He’d probably deliberately taken the heavy bags because he had good reason to think he was stronger than Peter. Aw, fiddlesticks. Should he pretend this was heavy? Had he just given too much away? Kon seemed like a nice guy but Peter really didn’t know-

Kon just let the bags go with a bemused smile and a, “Thanks, dude.” He appeared to have not a single thought about the situation as he started walking to the door. 

Good. He didn’t know that these were like, heavy. It must be nice to be a big strong guy.

Ah, well. Peter trotted after him.

His day had gone off the rails. The library was open now for sure. He had planned to be there by now, refreshing his website design skills. Maybe he’d gotten an email back about a possible job. He really should check-

But it was only one day at the absolute most, Peter justified to himself. And it was really really nice to feel normal again and do something impulsive but harmless with another teenager.

They wound up in an unsettlingly clean, empty apartment. Kon carelessly threw their loot on a pure white rug and walked in without kicking his shoes off. He pulled off his leather jacket and threw it at the couch without looking in a show of coordination that Peter could respect.

Peter shucked his tennis shoes carefully and lined them up against the wall before he ventured in. Kon was already opening up the fridge and pulling out cans. He threw one to Peter. 

Peter caught it without a thought and then blinked at it. Carbonated juice? Weird, but probably good. He said, “Thanks, man,” as he cracked it open. He took a sip and made a face. It was good, but very weird. He looked at it again and noticed that it was also somehow a yogurt drink. Fruit carbonated yogurt was a concept that he had not encountered before. 

‘Don’t be a dork. It’s probably a rich person thing.’

Kon perked up like a dog hearing a car approach. “I have to-” He gave Peter a distracted smile. “I’ll be right back. I have to do something. Could you uh, entertain yourself? Maybe set up our stuff?” He was already edging to the door.

Peter shrugged, confused at the sudden turnaround but amiable. “Okay, I’ll wait,” he agreed easily. 

Kon was gone so fast that Peter almost thought there was something supernatural about it. He shut the door, bemused.

And he did what he said. He cut off tags and threw away packaging. He plugged in the machines and set them up, one on the desk and one on the table. He mused that the apartment was furnished like a fancy hotel room. He sat down on the sofa to wait. 

It took a while. He couldn’t track the time without turning on the evil janitor phone, but Peter was pretty sure that at least like, ten minutes passed. He shifted uncomfortably. Was this weird? 

Kon was awfully casual about leaving someone he’d just met in his space. Peter didn’t mind, exactly. He knew that Kon wasn’t dangerous to him because his spider sense hadn’t gone off at all. But Kon didn’t know that! Didn’t he, like, know about stranger danger? Objectively, Peter could be a pretty dangerous person. Not by temperament, but still…

He sat there for a while and worried about Kon’s self preservation skills. After that, he ended up just getting started on his spidersuit.

Frankly, the leather idea was… Well. He had to rethink some of his concepts, that was for sure. It was easy to make a spandex suit. The hardest part of that was dealing with the endless teasing from Mr. Stark. But leather didn’t have the same stretchiness to it. So he sketched out a few ideas, tossing out numbers and proportions and trying to figure out how much he needed around each joint to accommodate his spidery range of motion. 

And then he remembered that he uh, was doing this with another person present. 

The jumpsuit thing? It made sense when he was wearing Stark tech. There was a big benefit to having no seams. But there was a reason that his first ever suit had actually been in two pieces: that was how normal people dressed. 

‘I can’t exactly tell Kon that I’m a misplaced superhero.’ Peter choked down a laugh and borrowed the leather jacket off of the couch. It would work as a pattern.

He traced the main pieces onto the scrap material they’d gotten. It was a real pain in the ass to do without cutting the clothes apart, but he had a pretty good understanding of how a 3 dimensional object was made from a bent 2 dimensional object and figured out something that he was mostly confident was accurate enough.

Peter put his hands on his hips and looked at his tracing victoriously. Then he frowned. He looked at the jacket again.

Aww, man. He sadly started drawing another line, a couple inches inside the first one.

Kon was big, okay? Kon was a big strong jacked guy! Peter was pretty jacked for his size, too, shoulders way bigger than his waist. But he was uh, just built smaller. The shape would work for Peter, but the size was going to be way off if he just replicated the pattern. He bit his lip as he worked.

“What are you doing?”

Peter jumped four feet straight up in the air and flipped onto the couch. He landed in a spidery crouch on the balls of his feet with both hands splayed down for balance. 

He stared at Kon with wide eyes. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh fuck.

Kon laughed. “Sorry, did I startle you?” He draped himself over the couch backwards, head pointing towards the floor and knees over the backrest. The smell of smoke wafted over.

…smoke? What had he been doing?

“Yeah, sorry,” Peter said slowly. 

‘Did he- he didn’t notice that wasn’t normal? Or maybe that’s something normal humans can do here. I mean, Kon can fly!’

Holy shit, he was in the clear.

“I was going to cut myself a jacket pattern,” Peter explained. He got back off his crouch on the sofa cushion. He tried to be as normal as possible about it. Wow, he was killing this. “I used yours to make a pattern, hope that’s okay. I didn’t mark it up or anything.”

“It’s cool,” Kon assured. He tilted his jaw upwards so that he was watching Peter upside down. “Sorry about how long I was gone. I got caught up helping my neighbor’s cat.”

“...With a fire?” Peter asked before he’d thought about it.

Kon frowned at him. 

“I mean, you smell a little smoky,” Peter demurred. 

The other guy laughed nervously. “Yeah, my neighbor is a bad cook.”

Peter nodded and accepted that. He knew all about bad cooks. “Do you cook?” he wondered. “I’m not great, honestly, but I can do a few things.”

Kon perked up again- and wow, this guy was like the world’s largest, most handsome golden retriever sometimes. “Cooking? I ordered everything in- can you show me?” His eyes sparkled like he had never before considered that he could cook for himself. 

Wow. Peter smiled, but he silently judged Kon’s parents. Why didn’t he have any practical life skills? “Yeah, of course. What do you have for groceries? Your parents won’t mind if we cook?” He started cutting out his pattern pieces in the test fabric. He had 5 main ones- two sleeves, a back panel, and two front pieces. Shit, he’d need to get a zipper, wouldn’t he?

Kon snorted and let his head fall back and hit the bottom of the sofa. “I live alone,” he said. “No one is going to even notice.”

“...How old are you?” Peter asked.

“Two,” Kon lied blithely. 

Peter made an aahhhh of comprehension. Fair enough. “I would have guessed like, 17,” he said.

“Is that how old you are?” 

“...Yes,” Peter lied, remembering that’s what his ID said now. He finished cutting out the back panel and put it aside.

Kon flipped himself up and back onto his feet. “Cool. I’m like, 16,” he said. “Basically.”

…That was a weird thing to say, but Peter noted it. Maybe he meant he was 15 going on 16. That would actually make them the same age.

“Are you from here?” Peter decided to move the conversation into more neutral territory. “I am, I’m from Queens.”

“Baller,” Kon said. “Nah, I’m from Hawaii. I recently moved to the mainland. I still have a place back there, but I have some things to do over here and they’re always kinda last minute, you know?” He scrunched up his face. “Flying over everytime someone has an errand gets kinda tedious.”

“That’s true,” Peter agreed. 

Kon seemed to brighten. “Plus, my friends are here.”

“That makes a big difference.” Peter smiled at him, genuinely happy for the dude. Maybe he had a shit time at his high school in Hawaii. Maybe he got bullied for being too big and handsome and friendly. “Hey, did you think about how you want to add the mesh to your jacket? It is this jacket you wanna alter, right?”

“I want to replace the back panel,” Kon said instantly. “Like, the seams and structure are the leather, and then the back is see through. Wouldn’t that look so fucking cool?”

“It would look cool,” Peter had to admit. It was the kind of look he wouldn’t go for, personally, but he might if he had traps like Kon. Still, he had to check. “You don’t use this for protection, right?”

Kon stared at him blankly.

“Like, for riding a motorcycle or something?” Peter prodded. Wow, he felt awkward. This was dumb. Kon wasn’t actually a 2 year old with no life experience. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“No, but why would that matter?” Kon asked slowly.

Peter felt his shoulders ride up, like he could turtle away from the conversation “Uhhh, well the mesh isn’t going to be as strong as the leather. Obviously. So if you fell, you might get more scratched up. That’s all.” 

God, why did he talk? Why did he ever talk?

“Ohh,” Kon said. Then he huffed out a laugh. “Nah, that’s not an issue for me. I’m tougher than that. Also, I don’t ride a bike.”

“You don’t do anything dangerous, then,” Peter confirmed with some relief. “Cool. So, I was thinking that we should leave a bit of the leather to attach the mesh to. Gimme? Thanks.” He took the jacket. He barely noticed that Kon was giving him a really weird look. “So, if it was my project, I would cut out a rectangle…. Well, it curves by the neck, but still. I would cut out the leather, leaving like an inch beside each seam. What do you think?”

“Sounds good.” Kon took the jacket back and picked up one of the sets of scissors. He played with the scissors for a moment, opening and closing them at high speed. “Vroom vroom, let’s go.” He flung himself onto the floor, back pressed to the sofa, and started cutting.

…Peter took a moment to hope that he hadn’t given advice that would ruin Kon’s jacket. He went back to his project until Kon said, “I’m done. What’s next?”

“Which mesh do you want?” Peter asked. Then he sucked in a break. “Ah, fuck.” 

“What?” Kon was standing so fast that Peter didn’t actually see him move. He looked tense and ready for action.

Peter didn’t notice. He was pressing his thumb and forefinger on either side of his nose and wondering why he was such a dummy all the time. “We need to wash the fabric first,” he said apologetically. “Obviously not the leather. But the mesh needs to be washed. Where’s your washer?”

He gathered up the fabric and followed Kon’s instructions. Kon trailed behind, obviously curious. “Why do we need to wash it?” he asked.

“Uh, it’s never been washed before, right?” Peter explained. He shoved the fabric inside and started looking for detergent. “Usually fabric shrinks when you wash it for the first time. So if you cut it first, sew it in place, and then eventually wash it, it’ll shrink and like, warp, and ruin your stuff.” He grimaced at the memory. Kon had bought the supplies like the cost was nothing, but Peter remembered vividly the crushing disappointment and pain of accidentally ruining something he’d made. Fabric wasn’t expensive, but it was expensive when you didn’t have money.

‘I just lucked into this,’ Peter thought, and felt guilty. ‘I’m going to be able to have a spidersuit just because I happened to meet Kon and he was nice enough to spend money on me. Am I taking advantage of him?’

He put the detergent into the load and started the washer. Man… He needed to make sure he was a really good friend to Kon. Because that’s what this actually was, wasn’t it? Kon had immediately started hanging out with him and bought him things because he was lonely. He was trying to get a friend. It was kinda like Mr. Stark, except less pathetic, because Kon wasn’t a super rich superhero with awesome super friends who could just tell them he needed help. Kon was a teenager who lived on his own and had an estranged Dad and maybe like, no one else in his life. Did he even go to school? Was whatever was going on with him even legal?

“...Do you want to get started on lunch?” Peter suggested. He was hungry, but that wasn’t why he asked. They had time to kill and he wasn’t going to make Kon watch him work on the spidersuit. 

“Yeah! What do you want to make?” Kon followed him back to the kitchen and watched with a sort of pleasant curiosity as Peter checked the fridge and cupboards. Literally the only things sitting out on his countertop were a bottle of dish soap and a sponge. That was it.

The fridge had canned drinks and take out leftovers in it. The cupboards had two cups, one of which was storage for a fork, spoon, knife, and pair of chopsticks. 

Peter gave Kon a strained smile and bent to check the lower cupboards.

They were empty and eerily clean. There weren’t even any cleaners in there, so that was wild. “Kon,” he started, and then didn’t know where to go with it. “Do you own a pot or pan?”

“No, why?” Kon cocked his head at him. He honestly seemed just curious and not a bit embarrassed. “Should I?”

“...We need one to cook in,” Peter said. And a few other things. Did– did Kon not own any plates, either? 

‘I guess he wouldn’t need one if he gets take out and uses the containers all the time,’ Peter rationalized. ‘But who lives like that? Why didn’t someone teach him how to live like a person?’

And who was cleaning this place? It hadn’t seemed so weird when he entered. But now that he knew Kon lived alone, this was just bizarre. If Kon wasn’t living with a neatfreak parent and he didn’t own anything but dish soap, how was his apartment so clean? Did he have a maid service or something?

Kon was way weirder than Mr. Stark. Peter gave his new friend a queasy smile when he realized that. Man, this guy needed help. “So, if we don’t wanna do takeout, we need to go shopping,” Peter said. That was an understatement. “A pan, a couple of plates, and groceries.”

Kon pulled the wallet out of his back pocket and waved it around. “That’s fine. Lexy has it covered.”

‘Lexy? Not Luther? Is Lexy his stepmom or something? Or is that a nickname?’

Normally, Peter would feel bad about spending someone else’s money. But this time he felt a kind of vicious satisfaction in the idea of running up this dude’s credit cards. Wherever Kon’s Dad was, he was a dick and he owed his kid some vegetables and a frying pan. “Yeah, okay. Do you have reusable bags we should grab on our way out?”

“I don’t think so. What are those?” Kon asked.

“...We’ll buy some,” Peter decided. “They’re usually made of canvas or something. It’s so that you don’t have to buy the one use plastic bags all the time. Let’s go.”

“Cool.”

Kon in the group chat: guys I have made a CIVILIAN FRIEND. 

Bart: neato im happy for u!

Cassie: big if true

Tim: What’s his ssn i just wanna check something

Kon: I don’t think he knows I'm a superhero. It’s nice, but is that weird?

Cassie: probably because you’re not famous enough yet sorry

Tim: get gud

Bart: get good

Kon: fuck u guys. I’m undercover. I’m being so normal.

[acescorazon]

Title: Changes

Chapter: 10/?

Rating: M

Word Count: 2686

Chapter Excerpt:

At long last, he forces himself to look over at Crocodile, ignoring how his heart beats in his chest at just the thought of having to interact with him again. Crocodile looks…tired. His hair is a mess and there are bags under his eyes, and when he finally speaks, he has none of his usual arrogance in his voice. “I need you to make more bounties for the marines…” He mutters, putting out his cigar, and as he does, Buggy notices an ashtray filled with cigar butts. He called him in just for that…? Surely, he could have just had Daz tell Buggy all this information so they didn’t have to waste any time.

“Is that all…?” Buggy asks, already ready to get the hell out of the meeting room and far away from Crocodile. Much to his displeasure, though, Crocodile shoves a chair in his direction, “I wish.” He murmurs, “Have a seat, cl…” He sighs, pausing a moment before he finally finishes his sentence. “Have a seat, Buggy.” 

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|

Buggy doesn't exactly need to be walked back to his tent. The island is peaceful and the only other people inhabiting it is Buggy's own crew, so if Mihawk wants to do this as a safety precaution… it's kind of pointless. There's not even any wild animals that could possibly attack Buggy, just Richie and Buggy's favorite feline would never do anything to hurt him. 

Is this just another act of kindness? Is this just Mihawk trying his best to get on Buggy's good side…? Buggy takes a minute to consider the offer before ultimately agreeing to let Mihawk walk him back to his tent. Weird or not, Buggy wants to get on this guy's good side.

They head out of Mihawk's tent walking side by side, and Buggy tries to keep an acceptable distance from Mihawk. He doesn't want to be near him, but he doesn't want Mihawk to take things the wrong way and end up getting into a fight with him and ruining everything. And yet, no matter how much distance Buggy puts between them, they still occasionally bump into each other, only for Buggy to move away slightly, and have the whole process repeat moments later, and Buggy can't tell if it's his fault or Mihawk's.

There's yet another heavy silence between them until Mihawk breaks it, "The sky looks so beautiful tonight." He tells Buggy, who in return, looks up at the night sky. He's not exactly impressed. The sky looks kind of empty, actually, there’s not a full moon or a cluster of beautiful stars in the sky, just a regular, old, boring nighttime sky. “I bet it would be lovely to take a walk along the beach right now.” Mihawk says, and Buggy’s face scrunches in confusion. What…? Uh…Okay…he thinks a moment later, trying to figure out how to reply to Mihawk, “Uh, yeah…” he mutters in response, “I guess so.”

There’s another painfully awkward moment of silence after that before Mihawk sighs for some reason. Buggy is so confused, did he say something wrong or…? As they walk, they pass by the cafeteria again just as Alvida is coming out of the tent. She pauses as soon as she sees Hawkeye and Buggy, giving them both a weird look. Yeah…Yeah, Buggy doesn’t know how he ended up in this situation either… It’s all so weird, and he just knows that Alvida is going to ask him about it later. 

He can hear her voice now: ‘What the hell? Don’t you hate Hawkeye? What were you doing taking a late night stroll with him?!’ Honestly, even if Buggy tells her the truth, though, he doubts she would believe him because even the truth sounds so ridiculous. Mihawk actually wanted to escort him back to his tent for some unknown reason, and Buggy, despite having bad blood with Mihawk, allowed him to do so… Everything is just so weird and hard to believe, and he doesn’t know how to explain the situation. He also doesn’t know how he should tell her or the others that he’s trying to be friends with Mihawk now, either, but that’s another problem for another time. 

The pair come to a halt as soon as they reach Buggy’s tent, and turn to each other, exchanging awkward glances as they stand in front of Buggy’s room. Buggy’s still unsure what he should even say, but thankfully MIhawk speaks first, “Uh…That was nice.” He says, “We should have dinner again sometime…” He pauses a moment, and when Buggy shifts uncomfortably in place, so does Mihawk, “You know, for the sake of Cross Guild.”

Oh, he wants to have another awkward dinner with Buggy… He’s serious about this whole friendship thing and doing what’s right for Cross guild, huh? Buggy resists the urge to groan loudly, and instead gives Mihawk a small smile, “Yeah, uh… that sounds like a good idea.” He doesn’t care at all about Cross Guild, but he thinks he can tolerate a couple of more dinners with Mihawk if it’ll get him to stop hating him. 

“Perhaps, we could have another dinner together this weekend?” Mihawk suggests. 

“Oh, um…” Buggy thinks about the offer for a moment. Today is Tuesday, so that means if Mihawk wants to have dinner on Friday, then Buggy has three days to mentally prepare himself. But if he wants to have it on Saturday, that’s even better. Hell, if Mihawk wants to have dinner on a Sunday that would be just perfect, actually. There’s just one thing… “Are you going to ask Crocodile to join us again?” Buggy asks. 

“…Yeah, i can ask him, but it’ll probably just be us two again…is that okay?”

Whatever. To be honest, Buggy would actually prefer it be that way. He really doesn’t want to see Crocodile. Crocodile hasn’t even apologized, and Buggy doubts he ever will. But that doesn’t matter to Buggy, it’s not like he’d even accept his apology in the first place, and if he never has to see Crocodile again, then that’s just fine. “Yeah, sure…” Buggy pauses and then afterwards turns to look up at Mihawk, “Uh… Goodnight, then?” He tells him.

“Goodnight.” Mihawk replies, but he lingers for a moment too long, looking like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. “Uh, i’ll see you later…” He mutters before finally turning around and leaving Buggy alone and with his thoughts. 

Man, he’s been acting so weird lately… Buggy thinks, shaking his head as he goes inside his tent. As he gets ready for bed, his mind is filled with thoughts of Hawkeye. He just doesn’t know what to think anymore, but part of him is starting to believe that maybe Mihawk is being genuine and actually wants to start over again, but it’s still so weird, and Buggy doesn’t know if he should actually forgive him.

Mihawk might not be as bad as Crocodile, but he’s still pretty shitty. He’s called Buggy names, and beaten him up quite a few times too… So, why should Buggy ever forgive him for real? He thinks he’ll just have to learn how to tolerate him, but he definitely doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with Mihawk. He doesn’t want to have weekly dinners, or go to every one of Hawkeye’s training sessions with Buggy’s crew, or even hang out after meetings (If they ever have those again.)  he just wants to do the bare minimum, something that’s just enough to get on Hawkeye’s good side and get him to stop tormenting him once and for all, and that’s it. 

Buggy climbs into bed once he’s got his pajamas on and stares up at the ceiling, man, I just don’t get it… He thinks as he drifts off to sleep. 

…

First thing in the morning, Buggy has to welcome some more recruits to the island, and he briefly thinks about showing his new children around, but he can’t be bothered. Not that it really matters anyway because halfway through introducing himself to his new crewmates and promising that their families will be taken care of, a rather tall and intimidating fellow peeks his head into his main tent, silently waiting for Buggy to finish what he’s doing. 

Now, this person has never done Buggy wrong, but he’s definitely not an ally, and Buggy watches Daz out of the corner of his eye as he continues to act like everything is fine. There’s only one reason why Daz would show up in front of him, and Buggy already feels his stomach starting to turn. Why? What could Crocodile possibly want now? He thinks. He quickly finishes up what he’s doing and waves goodbye to the new members of his family before cautiously approaching Daz. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to muster up a little bit of courage to talk to Crocodile’s right-hand man, “Ah, is there something you need, Daz?” He asks, but he already knows the answer that Daz is going to give him.

“The boss wants to see you.” Daz replies simply, and all Buggy can do is force a smile because he knew it. He just knew it. He knew that his break from Crocodile wouldn’t last long, and that he’d eventually summon him to do some trivial task.

God, he doesn’t want to see Crocodile, but he knows it’s pointless trying to argue with Daz of all people. If Buggy says he’s sick or busy, Daz will probably just ignore him and drag him back to his beloved boss, and just...he really doesn’t want to deal with that crap today. It’d be easier just to see what Crocodile wants. 

Buggy nods, “Do you know what he wants?” He asks, and he hopes there might be a tiny chance that maybe he won’t actually have to see Crocodile after all, but, of course, he’s not that lucky. Daz shakes his head, “No, he just told me to come get you.” Yeah… Yeah, Buggy figured as much. He forces another smile onto his face again as he nods, “Okay, sure…I understand.”

You know, the day started out so great. He woke up feeling refreshed, breakfast was nice, and he got to meet a couple of new recruits, and those are all usually three signs that he’s going to have a good day, but now he’s not too sure. He follows closely behind Daz as he leads him to the meeting room, wishing that Daz didn’t insist on staying by his side and bringing him to Crocodile personally. Maybe then he could have a couple of more minutes to prepare himself to see Crocodile.

He wonders what he’ll want this time. Perhaps he wants a mansion built? Oh, or maybe he wants Buggy to find him one of those ancient weapons he’s so obsessed with. Or… Or… maybe he wants Buggy to pull the one piece out of a hat? Who knows?! There’s just so many different things Crocodile can demand him to do, the possibilities really are endless. Crocodile really is the worst, and if Buggy is so incompetent, then why does he always make him do things?

Whatever, he doesn’t care.

Before Buggy even steps foot into the meeting room, he’s hit with the strong stench of Crocodile’s cigars, and he tries not to make a face. He briefly wonders just how much time Crocodile’s spent in the damn meeting room, but his question is more or less answered the moment he goes inside. It hasn’t even been three weeks since that emergency meeting Mihawk called, but Crocodile has more or less trashed everything. There are papers and folders in messy piles scattered all over the table, and the floor is littered with balls of crumbled up paper, pens, and boxes with presumably more documents in them. What is all this crap? Buggy thinks. 

At long last, he forces himself to look over at Crocodile, ignoring how his heart beats in his chest at just the thought of having to interact with him again. Crocodile looks…tired. His hair is a mess and there are bags under his eyes, and when he finally speaks, he has none of his usual arrogance in his voice. “I need you to make more bounties for the marines…” He mutters, putting out his cigar, and as he does, Buggy notices an ashtray filled with cigar butts. He called him in just for that…? Surely, he could have just had Daz tell Buggy all this information so they didn’t have to waste any time.

“Is that all…?” Buggy asks, already ready to get the hell out of the meeting room and far away from Crocodile. Much to his displeasure, though, Crocodile shoves a chair in his direction, “I wish.” He murmurs, “Have a seat, cl…” He sighs, pausing a moment before he finally finishes his sentence. “Have a seat, Buggy.” 

Buggy stands frozen in place for a long moment, looking down at the chair in front of him. He… He doesn’t want to stay here, though. Why can’t Crocodile just make him a list or something? Or better yet, why can’t he have someone else do his errands for him? Why does it always have to be Buggy? Buggy’s useless and a fuck up. He never does anything right, and Crocodile can’t even stand to be in the same room with him. So why call him? It just doesn’t make any sense.

Crocodile pinches the bridge of his nose when Buggy remains motionless for a little too long,

“Please…is that what you want to hear?” No, that’s not what Buggy wants to hear, what he really wants to hear is: ‘You can leave.’ but it doesn’t seem like Crocodile has intentions of letting him go that easily. “Look, i need you to do a couple of things for me, just have a seat.”

Buggy stares at Crocodile for another long moment before slowly sitting down at the table next to him. He hates this already. He doesn’t like to be this close to Crocodile, especially not in a small space. And to make things worse, Daz leaves the moment he realizes he’s no longer needed, leaving the room to just Buggy and Crocodile.

“...How was your dinner with Hawkeye…?”Crocodile asks as he hands Buggy a manila folder. Why is he asking about that…? Why is he even making small talk with Buggy right now? Doesn’t he hate this kind of thing? “Uh…Good…” Buggy replies in a tight voice, not sure what else he’s supposed to say, not that there’s really much to say about his dinner with Mihawk.

“...That’s good…” Crocodile replies, “Anyways, in that folder i just gave you there are the names of marines that need bounties made, and i also made a list of ones who need their bounties taken off the market.” Buggy nods in response, hoping that Crocodile won’t have too much for him to do. “Also, i’m so damn tired of eating sea king for dinner, i need you to send a few of your men into the nearest town to gather some more food.” 

Buggy nods again, “Uh… is that it then?”

“I also need you to send money to the families of all our recruits.”

“...Is that all?”

Crocodile stares at him with cold eyes, and the small act makes Buggy look down at the table and mutter a quick apology. “Look, clown…” Crocodile says, but then groans. He pauses briefly  before finally speaking again, “Okay, listen…Buggy. I just need some help, okay?” But, again, why can’t he just ask Galdino or Daz, or even one of Buggy’s men to help him?! Why does it have to be Buggy? “Can’t Galdino or Daz help you out?” Buggy asks, cautiously, “They’re a lot more efficient than i am, right?”

“I already have them doing something.” Crocodile sighs, “Just, please, help me out a little.”

Crocodile’s making it seem like he has a choice in the matter, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, could it? Buggy is in debt to Crocodile, and whether he likes it or not he has to help him, He just wishes Crocodile would have used one of the hundreds of other men around the island to help him out instead of Buggy. 

Still, he remains seated, making a list of all the things Crocodile wants to be done. Like always though, he wants way too much done and within a short period of time, and Buggy just knows that he’s going to get yelled at for something…or worse, but he doesn’t want to think about that.

Make new bounties, get more food, pay the recruits’ families, call the weapons’ dealer and ask if they have the guns he and Crocodile were talking about…Look into buying more boats… Order more shitty cigars…look into purchasing more land…Buggy reads his list out in his head, and fights back a groan. He feels like a damn secretary, and the worst part is, after giving Buggy all those orders, Crocodile turns to him and sighs before giving him one last command:

“Oh, and help me organize all my documents.” Good god, why?!

[wundrousarts]

The Wintersea Republic and the Free State: Different Age lengths?

I was going to save this until my Hollowpox reread post, but I’ve hit a snag in my eternal reread and now I don’t know when I’ll share that. This is something I noticed that I didn’t fully realize before. This is specifically about post-Massacre Ages. Pre-Massacre stuff is still currently a Wild West of unknowns.

The Wintersea Republic seems to have consistently had 10-12 year Ages since it was formed. This lines up with the amount of Ages it has had and how long it’s been around for. This consistency is also how Squall establishes the “curse.”

I had always assumed that Ages were consistent among the Realm, so that Nevermoor has also been experiencing these same Age lengths for the same amount of time. This is because at the beginning of the first book we see that their Morningtides align. This is where my theory about Wundersmith deaths or Wunder irregularities causing Eventides at the end of years comes from, because it seems likely that that’s what triggered this Eventide and likely all the ones related to the “curse”.

However, in ch2 of Hollowpox, Jupiter says the following:

“Golders Night,” Holliday echoed, and her expression grew thoughtful. She tapped a finger against her mouth. “There’s a thought… what’s it been, twelve years since the last one?” “Fourteen, I believe,” said Jupiter. “Spring of Seventeen in the Age of Poets. ”

So, 14 years ago, Nevermoor was in the midst of an Age that was at least 17 years long? Now I'm less sure what triggers Eventides/new Ages, especially in the Free State...

I find it unlikely that the Republic also experienced this same 17 year Age, as the fairly consistent Ages seems to be how Squall establishes the Eventide Curse... HOWEVER..... Morrigan turns 13 in Hollowpox... so this would have been the Age before her, and it might've actually been more like 18 (or 19? I'm bad at math) years long? Maybe Squall did something new the Age before Mog, like tried to take on an apprentice or two before her, or carry out some plan (or study?) with the other cursed children. The abnormally long Age could be balanced out by some of the earlier Ages in the lifespan of the Wintersea Republic being considerably short in comparison.

I would love to hear anyone's own thoughts on this! It's something I realized and now am trying to figure out how it fits with everything because I never really thought about it before.

[abitohoney]

Hustle - CH3: Preparations

AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, Ran & Reader, Established Relationship, assassin reader, Fluff, Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, horny idiots in love, Dom/sub, Dom Sevika, sub Reader, Humor, Banter, Choking, Spanking, Teasing, Light Sadism, Begging, Strap-Ons, Lesbian Sex, Aftercare, Gambling, Smoking, lack of understanding card games, totally winging this shit, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling, reader is not the most graceful creature, but Sevika adores reader all the more for it, Jealousy, Marking, Orgasm Delay, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Hurt/Comfort, a Yordle OC that we will likely never see again but I had entirely too much fun writing, 69 (Sex Position)

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: Looking to make your nights with Sevika a bit more… exciting, you suggest making use of your shared talent for playing cards. Together, the two of you take the Undercity, and even Topside, by storm. And what’s more exciting than the thrill of winning, or watching your opponents whine and gripe in defeat, or earning far more coin than the two of you could possibly spend? The release of pent-up sexual desire that seems to come with each and every win, that’s what.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3.

It was barely morning when you trudged towards the kitchen behind the bar of the Last Drop. Though it was far earlier than your usual time to rise, you slowly pushed open the door to reveal your long-running table mate.

Ran.

They sat at the small table in the center of the room, their chair facing the door. Their usual bowl of bland– you honestly still weren’t what exactly it was– Cereal without milk? Whatever it was it looked tasteless, but Ran seemed content with it, so who were you to say anything?

Ran lifted their head and nodded towards you in a silent greeting.

You nodded back, a bit too tired yet to say anything yourself. Dragging yourself to the refrigerator, you rummaged through the rather sad selection until you came across something that looked mostly palatable.

After grabbing a glass of an equally palatable drink, you made your way to the seat across from Ran. “So, do you have a plan to get us into the tournament topside?”

Last you two had spoken, Ran had told you they’d handle the logistics of getting you and Sevika in, but you weren’t entirely sure what that would involve. Not just anyone was allowed in.

Stirring the food in their bowl, Ran gave a small nod. “Fake identities already entered in the match. Meet at the Promenade tonight for new clothes.”

Well, that was a mouthful for Ran.

Eyes wide in excitement, you replied, “This is going to be wild.” You took a large bite of your breakfast, mind roaming over the possibilities this tournament could open. You might actually be able to pull this off with Sevika. Get yourselves enough coin to buy her an improved arm. Your thoughts came to a halt as Ran’s nonchalant words reached your ears.

“Can’t fuck on those tables though.”

You nearly spat your mouthful of food, choking and sputtering while heat spread up your neck and through your cheeks like wildfire.

Clearing your throat and taking a long sip of your drink, you hesitantly met Ran’s eyes- or rather eye- their fringed black hair obscuring the other.

Their dark lips curled into the tiniest smirk, amused by your antics as always. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Ran and Sevika both colluded in how to make you blush profusely. That or they had a bet to see who could do it the best.

“I- I know that,” you stammered. “How did- how did you know we-?” You couldn’t quite say it, but judging by how Ran’s dark brow raised, they weren’t going to let you off that easily.

Great.

“How did you know we fucked on the table?” you forced out, cheeks somehow burning even hotter.

The corner of their mouth tugged higher. “Didn’t. Just assumed.”

Of course.

“You know we do things other than just fuck,” you pointed out before taking another sip of your drink.

Their brow raised higher.

“Sometimes we just sit together and drink, work on our weapons, play cards, banter…” You trailed off, not willing to admit how all of that almost always inevitably led to fucking. “We also cuddle,” you blurted out.

Oh boy did that send their brow soaring high. You could have sworn you even heard Ran release a little snort of a laugh.

“What?!” you asked incredulously. “Just cause we fuck nasty doesn’t mean we don’t take care of each other afterward! Besides, aren’t you the one who slipped the aftercare book into Sevika’s room way back when?”

Busying themselves with a bite of their… ‘breakfast’, Ran said nothing, but you could only imagine the things running through their head. Nothing good, no doubt.

Sevika would NOT be happy if she ever found out what you’d said.

Your mind wandered to some of her recent punishments. Her pinning your hands behind your back while she smacked your bottom side repeatedly, following each one with the sweetest, most tender, soothing touch that made the space between your legs heat and grow wet.

“She takes good care of me after every wonderful, wild…” you trailed off, searching for a proper description in the memory banks.

“Mind-blowing?” Ran quipped.

You sighed. “Yes. Mind-blowing. After every mind-blowing romp, she is so incredibly caring and tender, even when we continue the banter. She cleans me up, kisses me softly, holds me close, caresses me…” You trailed off, your mind wandering again and allowing you to say far too much.

Sevika would definitely make you pay if she ever found out you’d blurted all that out.

“Do NOT tell her I told you that,” you demanded, leaning across the table with narrowed eyes honed in on Ran’s less than innocent smirking face.

Although Ran lifted both metal and flesh hands in defense, you doubted you could fully trust them to keep their mouth shut. For as little as they spoke, they loved to take every opportunity they could to tease and torment you. And you’d just laid a rather lovely opportunity on a silver platter just for them.

You sat back in your chair with a huff. You needed to change the subject before you said more shit you’d regret.

“Have you seen Sevika this morning? She was gone before I got up.”

“Basement. Working out,” Ran replied, a knowing smirk on their face.

Damnit.

Your nerves were alight as you descended the dark stairs that led to the basement of the Last Drop. Per Ran’s claim Sevika was down there, working out, and likely dressed in her typical training clothing. That was exactly why you dreaded walking through that door.

Sure enough, as you pushed open the heavy door, you found Sevika in just what you expected. Her top half was dressed in a white wrap that technically only covered her chest- just barely at that- leaving that impossibly fit tummy and abs of hers exposed even more than usual. Her bottom half donned only a pair of tight black shorts that accentuated the tops of her muscular thighs and ass. And good god the amount of beautiful, rich brown skin glistening with sweat after spending Janna knows how much time punching the bag hanging from the ceiling beam.

She had her fists drawn up, the side with her human arm facing you, and that bulging bicep right in your line of sight.

Fuck.

You’d come down there to tell her of the upcoming plans to prepare for taking on the fools topside, but clearly this was going to head in an entirely different direction. Unless you could somehow distract yourself.

Then Sevika turned to find you standing just past the threshold, blatantly staring at her. And sure as shit, those lips of hers curled into an annoyingly cocky, sexy smirk.

Damn her.

“Come down for a sparring session?” she taunted while grabbing a towel to wipe her face off.

“No. I-”

“Afraid to get your ass handed to you?” she interrupted. She tossed the towel over her shoulder and turned to face you, mischievous eyes following your movement as you headed for the mat in the middle of the room.

Don’t take the bait.

“No. I came here to work out and talk to you,” you said, taking a seat on the mat and pulling your knees up. Before she could make another attempt to goad you, you added, “Mind holding my feet for me?”

Lying on your back, you crossed your arms across your chest. You were about to start doing sit-ups, presumably without assistance despite your request, when you caught a pair of large boots entering your periphery.

Sevika stopped beside your head, towering over you while you lay flat and peered up at her in anticipation of some biting remark.

“Well?” she asked impatiently, watching you from down her pronounced nose.

“Well what?” You furrowed your brows, legitimately not sure what she was getting at.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

Oh.

“I realize this is asking a lot of you,” you started sarcastically, “but could you hold my feet for me while we talk?”

“Can’t even do sit-ups by yourself?” she snorted, “Pathetic.”

Don’t take the bait.

You were going to have to repeat that mantra several times to make it through the conversation. She was definitely trying to get you riled up. But you needed to focus. You had important matters to discuss. Banter and the subsequent mind-blowing sex that would surely follow would have to wait.

So you gave her your best puppy-dog eyes and pleaded, “Please Sevika, just while we talk.”

She huffed a derisive laugh, but moved to kneel at your feet. Of course she wouldn’t let you get off that easily though. The moment she placed her hands on your feet, she pressed down much harder than necessary.

“Thank. You,” you ground out through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the urge to scold her for practically smashing your poor feet.

You sat up, taking the exercise slow at first so you could speak. Your view switched from the dimly lit bulb hanging from the ceiling to the stoic face of Sevika, then back again.

“So, I was talking to Ran about what we could do now that we’ve cleaned out most of the Undercity.”

As you sat back up, Sevika’s expression had changed- a single brow quirked in intrigue.

“I actually know of a fancy place topside that holds a big tournament every month. My father used to play there when I was little.”

That time, when you sat up, her lips had tugged upward at one corner.

Here we go.

“Have you ever not been little?” she sneered.

Don’t take the bait.

Ignoring the insult, you continued, “And this tournament has more than just the fancy pants of Piltover playing. It draws in wealthy tourists from all over Runeterra. Just a treasure trove of filthy rich idiots with nothing better to do than gamble their money away.”

Her brow raised even higher, clearly very interested in where this was going.

“Ran already got us some fake identities and entered us in the tournament. Wants us both to meet up with them tonight to get some clothes from a shop on the Promenade level to help fit in I guess.”

You sat back up to find a nasty grimace on Sevika’s face. You paused for a second. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not wearing a fucking dress,” she growled, baring her teeth.

Oh.

You made absolutely no attempt to hold back your roaring laughter.

“What’s so fucking funny, princess?”

Lying back down against the mat, you took a moment to catch your breath. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Ran will get you a suit instead,” you assured her as you sat back up.

She eyed you suspiciously, but you brushed it off.

“Besides, would it really be that bad? To wear a dress?” you asked, closing your eyes as you tried to picture what that might look like. In all honesty, you thought she’d be beautiful in literally anything. She had the handsome sharp edges that make a suit look good, but also the lovely curves that a dress could accentuate beautifully.

“So you’re going to wear a dress?” she sneered.

You stopped mid sit up.

Fuck.

You had not even considered that to be a possibility. And you didn’t need to open your eyes to see the smirk on her face.

“Ran could get you a pretty little pink one just like the one you wore in the picture when you were little,” she taunted.

That picture. That fucking picture. The bane of your existence and yet it was Sevika’s most prized possession. The picture of you, as a child, wearing a pink, frilly, princess dress for Halloween when you had wanted the black assassin costume instead. The picture Ran had stolen from your place to tease you with. That then Sevika stole to tease you with. That now sat on the bedside table on Sevika’s side of the bed. That you suspected she liked for more than just taunting you with.

“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you wanna relive your Piltie Princess dreams?” she jeered.

Eyes open, you sat fully upright and glared at her.

Don’t. Take. The. Bait.

You smiled at her– a shit-eating sort of grin. “Maybe we can get you your own pink dress.” You looked up towards the ceiling as if envisioning something. “I can just picture it now. Pretty, pink, Piltie Sevy.”

Shit.

You took the bait.

Smile wiped clean from your face, your eyes dropped to meet Sevika’s. You knew your worry was ever present on your face. You expected her to eat that up, but to your surprise, she let out a hearty chuckle.

Wait. What’s happening?

“Real cute, baby,” she chuckled.

Then, without warning, her expression took an extreme turn– from what you thought was genuine good-natured amusement to full-on evil sneer. “I’m going to make you eat those words.”

And here we go.

But oh! You had an idea. A distraction. With a coy smile, you replied, “I’d rather eat you.”

Now that worked wonders. Her brow raised, smirk faltering for just a moment.

Still grinning, you leaned forward between your knees and gave her nose a quick kiss before lying back down. And when you sat back up, she still wore the same expression. So, you gave her a quick peck on the lips before doing another rep.

You repeated those motions several times. Placing a chaste kiss to a different part of her face each time. And each time you came back up, you found her looking more and more annoyed. At least until your smile started to grow dopier and dopier. Until finally, her lips twitched at the corner, and you knew you’d won.

Or at least you thought you had.

The next time you leaned in, she met you halfway. The startled gasp that left your throat was muffled by the soft press of her lips. Lips that you could feel curl into a smug smile against your own.

Without breaking the kiss, she started to slowly lean over you, forcing you to lean back. All the heat in your body seemed to flood between your thighs as she crawled over you and forced you to spread your legs wider to allow her hips between them. Your upper body dropped lower and lower until your head hit the mat.

Her large, solid body pressed on top of yours, pinning you beneath her and sending your mind reeling. Her tongue teased along the crease of your lips and you immediately parted them, granting her access. She chose to tease instead, gently sucking on your bottom lip while she slipped her human hand beneath your shirt to run across your abs.

You wrapped your arms around her neck in an attempt to pull her mouth closer. The only thing you got in return was teeth nipping at your lip before she pulled her mouth away from yours. Your startled protest died in your throat the moment you felt her fingers dip lower to tease along your waistband.

Breath already coming out hot and heavy, your impatience got the better of you. Though she made it clear you were to let her decide where this was going, you attempted to chase those luscious lips, only to be denied once again.

“Hands above your head,” she growled.

Despite your whimper, you obeyed, raising your arms to rest along the mat. Cool metal pressed firmly against your wrists, rendering your upper half immobile.

“Sev-” you whined when the hand at your waist left to slip beneath your shirt.

Ignoring your pleading eyes, she roughly pulled your top and sports bra up over your chest, the band pressing uncomfortably into the tops of your breasts.

“Sevika, that- that’s kinda uncomf-”

Your retort was cut short by Sevika’s threatening gaze on you. Her metal hand moved to the base of your throat, fingers wrapping around and applying just enough pressure to hush you.

“Be a good girl for me and I’ll make it worth it.”

There was no arguing with that. Not when those dangerous fingers held your neck so possessively. Not when you could see the lust in her eyes and hear it in her husky voice. And you trusted her. With everything. Mind, heart, and body. So you gave her a small nod and watched her lips curl into a tiny smirk before she brought them to your exposed chest.

With her large fingers firmly gripping one breast, Sevika wrapped her lips around the supple flesh and sucked, drawing a soft mewl from your parted lips.

Instinctively, your hips bucked towards her.

“So needy,” she rasped, her breath cool as it drifted over your wet skin.

You shivered beneath her, a chill running down your spine.

“You’re not cold are you, baby?” she husked against your other breast before sucking another mark to match the first.

You were anything but cold pinned beneath her warm, sweaty body, subjected to her heated touch. Every fiber in your body felt as if it could combust at any moment. You were already starting to break a sweat, but it had nothing to do with your workout.

“No- I-” your words halted, brain emptying the moment you peered down past her augmented arm to meet her fiery gaze.

And then you realized your mistake. Far too late. At some point, your hands had wandered from their designated place above your head and found purchase in her silky dark hair.

Stormy gray eyes trained on you, there was no way to break away as you watched her slowly trail the tip of her tongue just outside your hardening peak. She paused for an agonizing moment, her parted lips a mere hairsbreadth away from the sensitive nub.

Unsure of her intentions, you held your breath in anticipation.

Without warning, she bit down. Hard.

A short, sharp intake of breath further filled your lungs, pushing your chest towards those deliciously cruel teeth of hers. And then all that breath left your body in a shuddering moan as she soothed the sore flesh with soft lips and a wet tongue.

You moved your hands to the mat at your sides, nails digging into the forgiving material while her human hand started to descend down your stomach again.

Thankfully, this time she skipped the teasing and immediately slipped her fingers beneath the waistbands of your pants and underwear. The tip of her middle finger slid ever so slowly through your wet slit and your eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping your parted lips.

"Always so wet for me," she hummed in appreciation, dragging that finger through once more before circling your clit.

Pleasure radiated from that tiny bundle of nerves. Yet every muscle in your body ached for more. You released a shaky breath, her name a pleading whisper.

"Do you ever get this wet without me?" She asked curiously as she spread more of your arousal around your entrance.

Even with your eyes shut, you could feel the heat of her gaze on your face, watching how it contorted with every little touch. Enjoying every little hitch of breath, lick of lips, and pinch of brows.

"On- Only when I- when I think about- you," you stammered, each word more difficult than the last as she started to slowly sink her finger inside you.

“Yea?” she purred, running the side of her nose along yours while curling her finger and dragging it slowly back out.

You nodded, careful not to move too much. Warm breath fanned across your dry lips. Your tongue instinctively slipped out to wet them, barely ghosting over her own. Anticipating a reprimand for touching without permission, you swallowed hard, throat bobbing against the firm press of her metal hand.

“How often do you think about me?” She pulled her finger completely out, only to hush your whine of protest by slipping two fingers inside.

All the fucking time.

“I-” whatever words you had ready faded away as she started pumping those thick digits in and out at a torturously slow pace. But you knew she’d stop if you didn’t answer. So you said the only thing you could come up with. The truth.

“All the time,” you mewled.

She chuckled softly, her lips still hovering tauntingly close to yours. “Down so bad, huh?”

She had no idea.

“Do you touch yourself when you do?”

You nodded, a breathy, “Yes,” escaping as she pushed in deeper, knuckles bottoming out.

“Like this?” she breathed and curled her fingers.

You swallowed hard again, struggling to remain composed as she worked you up. Metal fingers tightened at the base of your throat, a silent warning to give her an answer. “Yes,” you managed to whimper.

“Hmm,” she hummed, brushing her lips along yours.

Your nails dug deeper into the mat.

“How many?”

What?

Each metal digit pressed tighter into your skin, one after the next as she ground out the words, “How. Many. Fingers?”

“Three.”

“Greedy little cunt,” she chuckled darkly, but when she drew her fingers back, she slipped another in. “Like this?”

“Oh fuck,” you groaned, pleasure causing your vision to blur for a moment. “No. Yours- yours are so much bigger,” you whined as she slowly sank deeper, stretching you close to your limit.

“But you can take it, can’t you?”

You’d done it before, yet every single time feels as if you’re walking that fine line between pleasure and pain. But that’s exactly how you both like it. So, through the haze of your pleasure, you gave her a strained, “Yes,” just as she bottomed out those three thick digits.

“That’s my girl,” she husked. She finally pressed her lips to yours, swallowing your subsequent moan.

Your hands almost flew up instinctually to pull her closer, but you caught yourself just in time, allowing them to collapse back against the mat.

Her kiss likened the passion of her fucking. Tongue and fingers delved with the same rhythm and intensity– straight and fast in, curled and slow out. You tried at first to match her motions, bucking your hips towards her hand and swiping your tongue along hers each time she entered.

It didn’t take long though for her pace to increase to the point you found yourself too overcome with pleasure to keep up.

When she abruptly broke the kiss, strands of saliva clung between your open mouths before breaking and falling against your chin.

Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, head spinning and reeling from the lack of oxygen and the rush of pleasure. With your body burning so hot, you barely felt the sweat that had gathered along your hairline drip down along the side of your face. Every inch of your lower half ached, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter. Any attempt to bite back the moans quickly began to fade.

She worked you quicker- harder- the palm of her hand pressing and dragging along your swollen clit with each thrust. Her face hovered just over yours, stormy gray eyes reveling in how your face contorted in bliss.

You let yourself go completely, all restraint gone as you let your body take over. Nothing but a flurry of moans, gasps, mewls, and her name spilling past your open mouth.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear all those pretty sounds you make,” she huffed before pressing her face into the crook of your neck to kiss, bite, and suck it.

Just a few more blissful strokes of those fingers, palm dragging over your clit, and you felt time suddenly slow. Pleasure rushed over your body in waves. A series of curse words pouring from your slack mouth.

But even as you felt the waves settle into a pleasant dull ache Sevika didn’t stop. She only sped up, the overstimulation abruptly ripping you from your high.

“Sev, wait,” you pleaded, so short of breath you could hardly speak the words.

“C’mon, baby. Give me another one,” she panted against your neck.

You were about to tell her it was too much when you realized her body was rocking against yours. Rolling your head to the side you peered down to find her grinding against the palm of her metal hand. You hadn’t even realized she’d moved it from your neck.

Oh fuck that’s hot.

But you wanted to help her. You wanted to get her off. She’d already done you so well, how could you not want to return the favor?

“Sevika, please,” you begged, “I want to touch you. Please let me help you.”

She ignored your plea, only sped up the pace of her thrusting, both hips and fingers.

"I just- I just want to make you feel good. Please," you nearly cried out, attempting to squirm away from her relentless fingers. You could see her body tremble, struggling to maintain all the motions as her body became overwhelmed with pleasure. The fingers inside you slowed, but she continued to grind against her hand.

Sev, please,” you whispered one last time. When she didn’t reply, you decided to chance it. Slowly- deliberately- you drug your blunt nails down the length of her abs, relishing in how her muscles quaked and a deep, satisfied groan pulled from her chest. Her breath was hot and uneven against your neck where her kisses dwindled to just a press of wet lips.

Excitement and the haze of your orgasm still clouding your mind, you fumbled in your attempt to slip your fingers beneath her tight training shorts. And she was no help, her thrusts getting wilder, more erratic. She was close. But you had to be the one to finish her off. You all but ripped the waist of her shorts with how hard you pulled it back to allow your other hand inside.

“Let me,” you huffed, pushing her metal hand aside before immediately slipping your fingers beneath her underwear.

“Fuck,” you moaned as your fingers slipped through the thick patch of hair and between her wet folds. “You’re so wet.”

She sank her teeth into the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder, hard enough it would surely leave yet another mark.

You released a soft whimper and wasted no time toying with her as she did with you. You immediately slipped two fingers knuckle deep in her warm, wet cunt. The feeling of her clenching around your fingers- her own faltering their assault on you- nearly sent you over the edge again right then and there. And then came the long, deep groan from her parted lips.

Gods was it heavenly to make her feel so good.

She moved her metal hand to grip your hip, sharp talons sinking deep enough to puncture skin. Warm droplets of blood dripped down your side, but it only drove you closer to your peak.

With each thrust of your fingers, she bucked her hips, but they quickly became more erratic as you worked her up.

Each grunt, puff of hot air, and curse that fell from Sevika’s mouth made your body tense further and further. You were already so close again, but you wanted her to finish first. You wanted to be as aware as possible to watch- to feel - her fall apart from your touch.

Her hips faltered, no longer meeting your pace.

“I- fuck,” she huffed. “Baby I’m gonna…” her groan turned into a sharp intake of breath.

Fuck.

She clenched around your fingers and her body froze, tensing entirely. Then all at once, she released her breath and all that tension rushed from her body as her muscles spasmed.

The feeling of her walls pressing against your fingers and the warm wetness that spilled onto your hand was enough to bring you to your second release. Your body trembled and quaked beneath hers even as she collapsed onto you, completely spent.

Somehow, the both of you managed to ride through your highs despite neither of you being able to move your hands. You didn’t care how fucking heavy her body was on yours as the two of you attempted to catch your breath. Nor did you care that your arm was sandwiched between your bodies. Nor how the smell of sweat and sex permeated the already damp air of the basement. You were feeling too good, and you knew Sevika was too.

After your breaths returned to a steady rate, Sevika propped herself up on her augmented arm. She peered down at you with hazy gray eyes, lips curling into a small smirk when she caught your fucked-out smile.

Strands of hair that had fallen from her half ponytail clung to her sweaty face. And good god even her cheeks looked flushed.

Beautiful.

You reached your free hand up to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Feeling good?” you asked softly.

She merely smirked at you, which you took as a yes but not willing to give you the ego stroke. You, however, had no problem stroking hers.

“I’m feeling great,” you sighed. “Although my hand is kinda cramping,” you laughed softly and wiggled your fingers inside her.

“Fuck,” she cursed, eyes screwing shut tight.

“Sorry,” you lied with a failed attempt to disguise your laugh. Serves her right. She was always the one to overstimulate you.

Her eyes narrowed at you, but you knew she wasn’t mad.

“Pull out on three?” you asked.

You took her lack of reply as a yes.

“One.”

God, you hated this part.

“Two.”

Always so stimulating yet disappointing at the loss.

“Thr–aahh!!”

Sevika pulled her fingers out before you could finish, pulling with them a startled cry from you.

“Fuckng hell Sevika!” you snapped.

Then she was the one to chuckle, body shaking against yours.

So you pulled your fingers out without warning, being sure to drag them over her clit as you did.

She hissed, face contorting again at the overstimulation.

“So sorry-” you barely managed to finish your tauntingly fake apology when she stuffed her fingers into your mouth. You moaned, obligingly lapping your own wetness from her fingers.

Her smirk returned as she pulled her fingers back out and watched you slip your own in to lick off her wetness as well.

“If I wasn’t so fucking spent I’d give you more than just a taste,” she said huskily.

You shuddered beneath her, arousal blooming at the thought of that. “Maybe tonight?” you suggested.

“If you’re a good girl,” she replied before bringing her lips to yours.

As you returned the kiss, you were pretty sure she’d give you more than a taste even if you were bad.

That night, you nervously followed Ran- with Sevika not too far behind you- to the rickety elevator that would take the three of you to the Promenade level. Admittedly, you had no idea what Ran would pick out for either of you, but knowing their history of other things they’d selected for you in the past, it was not going to at all be something within your typical style. And very revealing. At least for you. The only positive to those thoughts was that they may do the same for Sevika. And good god would you love to see Sevika in something even more delicious to the eyes than her current attire.

The ride up was quiet, save for the occasional rattling and clanging of the elevator. You shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting from the iron door to Ran’s chill and suspiciously smug expression, to Sevika’s scowl, and back to the door again. It dawned on you, just how odd you three must look, with your contrasting expressions and clothing style. Ran with their goth/emo, Sevika with her– you weren’t even sure what to call her style. Badass. Mean. Is mean a style? Teasing. That damn strip of tummy exposed just asking- no, begging- to be touched and tasted. Whatever her style was, it wasn’t like Ran’s, or yours. Yours was plain, dark, all black. Meant to blend in because, well, assassin. You weren’t looking to draw attention.

But something told you that would change with whatever Ran picked out for you tonight.

The lift came to a jolting stop, knocking you from your thoughts but ratcheting up your anxiety. And as the three of you approached the shop, that gut-wrenching feeling only continued to grow. The shop was larger than you expected. Almost the entirety of the front was nothing but windows displaying all manner of suits and dresses. Anything from tiny, skimpy, sorry excuses for clothing, to dresses with skirts so large you were certain sitting down would be an impossibility. And in just as wide an array of colors and fabrics. From dark black leather to frilly light pinks. The latter made you visibly cringe.

You were about to follow Ran through the large glass door when they stopped and turned to you.

“Her first,” they nodded to Sevika behind you.

“We can’t both go in?” you asked incredulously.

“Can’t see until the tournament.”

Was Ran fucking nuts? This was supposed to be for a card tournament, not a damn wedding.

That last thought caused a different disturbance in your stomach. One you’d rather not address.

“Okay,” you replied, less than thrilled with the idea of having to wait and stew even longer. With a dramatic sigh, you found a small spot without a window and leaned against it, watching as Sevika reluctantly followed Ran inside. At least you weren’t alone in this torture. Sevika looked far beyond displeased.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You’re not sure how long you were standing there, attempting to preoccupy yourself with the dagger Sevika had gifted you some months ago. You were running your thumb absentmindedly over the initials carved into it- your initials- when you heard the door open. Sevika stepped out carrying a large bag and appearing even more annoyed than when she had entered.

Great.

And then she just strode past you without so much as a glance.

“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” you asked.

“No. I have more important things to do,” she replied and kept walking, at least until Ran opened their big mouth.

“Prepare for mind-blowing sex and cuddling?”

For as little as Ran spoke, they sure seemed to pick the most awkward things to say and at the worst times. Not only that, they said the most blasphemous things with the cool, calm composure of someone speaking of the weather.

Wide-eyed, you watched Sevika stop dead in her tracks and slowly turn to Ran’s smirking face. Then, as her gaze drifted to your suspiciously nervous expression, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

Shit.

You gave her an awkward, apologetic smile and shrugged your shoulders. Judging by the way she was clearly clenching her teeth behind her closed mouth, it was not very well received.

You were going to pay dearly for your slip.

With one more threatening glance between you and Ran, Sevika silently turned and stomped off towards the lift.

Then it was your turn to get mad. You spun on your heels, brows downturned as you all but threw the dagger in your clenched fist at Ran.

Ran simply grinned, waving their metal fingers at you teasingly. “Your turn, princess.”

You decided to just ignore the pet name, despite that only further fueling your suspicions that Ran and Sevika were colluding in your destruction. And by destruction, you meant getting you as flustered as possible.

Pushing off the wall you followed Ran into the store.

It was, as you expected, beyond anything you’d been exposed to in your time in the Undercity. In your younger years in Piltover, you had been dragged along by your mother to several stores similar to this, and unfortunately, it was something you would have rather left in the past.

Dresses of all manner lined the walls and center of the store. Gaudy colors and flashy sequins damn near blinded you, even though the lighting was only slightly better than in the depths of the Undercity. And each rack and mannequin you passed made your insides drop lower and lower in your stomach.

Good god please at least pick something black.

Ran stopped at a rack holding several variations of dresses, each and every one in various shades of pink. You were about to protest, mouth open and brows furrowed, when you spotted the curl of dark lips painting Ran’s face.

They were fucking with you.

Your mouth snapped shut and you blew a huff of breath from your nose.

Ass.

Ran continued on, slowly perusing every rack, trailing their flesh fingers along the various materials. Occasionally, they’d stop at a rack with something they knew damn well you’d hate, but it didn’t take long for you to become numb to their game and brush it off.

Then, thank the gods, they stopped at a display full of black dresses. While they thumbed through several, you moved to the opposite side, deciding to join in the search now that you were at least in your color choice. Most of them were not to your taste. Too flashy, revealing, or frilly. But when you came across one made of a simple material, similar to your typical attire and with decent coverage, you finally felt your hopes rise.

“What about this one?” you asked, holding the dress up for Ran to see.

Their gaze drifted between your hopeful smile and the plain dress in your hand.

Ran slowly shook their head.

Damnit.

“Why not?” you whined. “It’s a decent dress!”

“Not for this place,” Ran murmured and returned to their search.

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew they were right. You remember how your mother and father dressed when attending these types of events. They were anything but plain. So you shoved the dress back on the rack and decided to go check out other parts of the store to keep your mind off the inevitable destruction of your comfort.

While browsing the less flashy suits, your mind began to wander.

What would Sevika be wearing?

You know for a fact she’d never agree to a dress. It would have to be a suit. But what kind? What color? Would she wear a tie? A jacket? Anything revealing? As you ran your hands along the silky fabric of a white button-up blouse, your eyes drifted close. You could picture her in it, beautiful rich brown skin contrasting against the crisp white. Maybe a few buttons undone, leaving you with a tease of her cleavage. Sleeves rolled up to reveal her bicep. Probably not the latter. She’d likely be hiding that prosthetic. What about her hair? Would it be worn down, those silky dark strands framing her beautiful face?

The sudden hair-raising feeling of being watched had your eyes flying open. You damn near jumped out of your skin when you found yourself face-to-face with Ran.

“Fuck Ran. Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you chided.

All you received in return was a teasing smirk. And then your eyes fell to the item in their hand.

There was no way it was a dress.

It looked like a pile of black silk, no straps.

Reluctantly, you took it from Ran and held it out in front of you. A few gold pieces with dark red gems stood out against the black material, which you assumed were what actually held the bits of material together.

You met Ran’s gaze again with a worried expression, eyes pleading with them that this was not truly what they’d selected. But a nod towards the dressing room confirmed what you dreaded.

With slumped shoulders, you headed to the dressing room, Ran following in tow and likely entirely too amused by your lack of enthusiasm.

Once inside a booth, you took your time stripping down before removing the ‘dress’ from its hanger and inspecting it for how to put it on.

There was no way you were figuring it out alone.

You glanced down at your body, clad only in a bra and panties.

Fucking hell.

“Ran,” you whispered, poking your head out from behind the curtain, “I have no fucking clue how to put this on!”

You hid further behind the curtain, nervously watching as Ran stepped inside with you wearing a knowing smirk. Heat rose up your neck and flooded your cheeks when their gaze raked over your near-nude body. Thank god they weren’t much for talking, as they said nothing, only let the corner of their mouth tug higher.

Ran helped you into the dress without any issue, to the point it made you wonder how many times they’d done something like this. But what plagued your mind more than that was how they let their fingertips, both flesh and metal, ghost along your exposed skin, leaving behind an obvious trail of goosebumps. The touches could have arguably been accidental considering how they needed to adjust, smooth, and clasp certain sections. However, the amused upward pull of lips you saw reflecting back at you in the mirror pointed to more than just pure accident.

When they patted your shoulder, indicating they were done, you finally let your attention move to your own reflection.

As it turned out, the gold pieces were actually the bones of the dress so to speak. One wrapped around the base of your neck like a choker, a dark red gem in the center where two pieces of black fabric attached on either side. The other ends of the fabric connected to the top of another gold piece, adorned with matching red gems and crisscrossed around the top of your waist and at the lowest part of your hips. It left the center of your chest very exposed, and cut real low around the back to reveal even more skin. More black fabric fell from the bottom half of that gold crisscross, cascading all the way to the floor. It had two slits- if you could even call them that considering how they were just entirely separate pieces, one for the front and one for the back- that left almost the entirety of your legs exposed. There was no way you were going to be able to pull off such a dress while wearing a bra OR panties.

Holy fucking shit.

You may have worn skimpier things for Sevika, but those were in the privacy of the bedroom. This was going to be in public, in front of gobs of strangers.

Your eyes drifted back up to Ran’s reflection. They looked more than happy with their selection. Oddly enough, that gave you quite the confidence boost, but…

What will Sevika think?

You slowly turned, glancing over your shoulder to admire your backside in the mirror. The back of the dress was longer than the front, trailing several inches along the floor behind you. The fabric had to be silk given how it cascaded so softly along your curves. It screamed luxury. Something you weren’t accustomed to. Silco paid you well, but not that well. And you grew up with fairly wealthy parents in Piltover, but thankfully were left out of a majority of those fancy events. This was so… different. You felt so…

Pretty.

A smile graced your face, startling you from your own reverie. You spun around completely to face Ran. “What is this going to set me back?”

“Still need to get you accessories and shoes, princess.”

Great.

After helping you out of the dress, Ran found matching gold and red gemmed bracelets and bands for your arm, just above your bicep, as well as a set of earrings.

Then came the shoes.

Ran almost immediately found a pair of matching stilettos, heels high enough that you were certain you’d be as tall as Sevika. You’d also likely suffer a concussion from such a high fall, which would assuredly happen if you tried to walk in them.

“What about these?” you asked, holding up a pair of tall, leather black boots with wide, flat heels. You should have known better to even ask, but you had to try something. When Ran shook their head, you attempted to plead with them, “Can’t we at least compromise? Find me something that doesn’t force me to walk on my damn tip-toes?”

They seemed to take pity on you, setting the stilettos back and returning to the selection. When they came back with a less hazardous-looking pair of black heels with matching gold and dark red accents, you released a heavy sigh.

“Fine.”

You were going to regret that.

The purchase of all the items ended up costing you a hefty amount of the Undercity tournament earnings you had split with Sevika. But if things went as planned Topside, it wouldn’t matter. You two would be swimming in money. Or at least have enough to do something really nice. And you wanted more than anything to get something special for Sevika.

As you and Ran exited, they pulled several items from their pocket and handed them to you. The first; a small piece of paper folded in half. You flipped it open to find Ran had written a name along the top that you did not recognize, as well as a list of facts. A summarized history of what you presumed to be your fake identity’s background. Folding it back up, you stuffed it into your bag to fully read later.

“Did Sevika get one too?”

Ran nodded and handed you the second item; a gold ring with what you assumed to be a signet for your fake identity.

Wow, Ran had really gone all out.

“My place. Saturday night,” Ran instructed.

You sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. This was really going to happen.

“Got it.”

CH4>>

[demiboydemon]

Here’s a pic of what they hung with the nipple clamps in my fic ‘Treats, Tricks, and Training’ (link below cut)

Edit: okay so like it turns out I haven’t actually posted the chapter where this happens yet 🤦‍♂️ but it’s in ch2, to be released on March 3rd.

Treats, Tricks, & Training (5904 words) by demiboy_demon Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Characters: Link (Legend of Zelda), Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Purah is mentioned Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, light comedy, Humiliation, BDSM, Embarrassment, Dom/sub, Sub Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Dom Link (Legend of Zelda), Nipple and clit clamps, Safeword Use, Safe Sane and Consensual, Leashes, Collars, pissing outside, Cages, Master/Pet, Petplay, Pet Play, Dorks in Love, Blow Jobs, Grinding, Bathing/Washing Series: Part 3 of Zelda’s Adventures In Subbing Summary: While cleaning Purah’s snowglobe collection, Link learns of a set of ancient devices sure make Zelda happy. He arranges a night of petplay fun, including collars, cages, tricks, scratches, and leashed walks and bathroom breaks outside.

[moonshynecybin]

Can't decide on a specific scene but i'll take anything you have to say about i'll meet judgement by the hounds bc at this point i have re-read it so many times ...

the thing about ill meet judgement by the hounds is that literally no concrete planning went into writing that thing. i was up against a deadline for a grad school assignment i was procrastinating like NOBODY'S BUSINESS had two panic attacks that week (unrelated to school!!) and then flew to bath with my roommate spur of the moment. posted that ch2 late at night zooted on my anxiety meds and and woke up to some LOVELY messages that i read on a bus when i was pulling away from the airport. insane experience. i didnt even want to give it a chapter two right away i was like IM BUSY. and then i wrote it immediately.

BUT to actually talk about the fic. like you asked <3. i actually had this idea that i wanted to follow marc's pov (at that point i had only written vale) and get inside his insane headspace leading up to his arm surgery and then be like. wouldnt it be crazy if vale was there and wanted to reconcile a bit but he was also kind of avoiding SAYING THAT. wouldnt that make marc feel EVEN CRAZIER. marc marquez saw trap simulator. inside you there are two wounds one is valentino rossi and the other is your fucked up arm. anddddd 2022 seemed like the ideal place for a rosquez reunion to me! like. dramaturgically. marc is on the brink. vale has just retired (easy to get a reason for him to have an epiphany regarding marc, made even easier bc marc pov means i never have to explain it in depth !)

and the thing about this fic is that it was supposed to be. A LOT longer. go race by race until his surgery and have them talk a lot more. change a little more gradually. but uh. ive already said my life was insane at that time and i got excited and fucking SENT that badboy. (again. i was lightly tranquilized.) which i think MOSTLY makes it better but the pacing is still little wacky. anyways i do think of the scene i cut where marc talks to alex all the time but i think i also fully deleted it! dont write fic under the influence! i also cut a BIG scene of them at the french GP where vale brings marc a sandwich and makes him eat it. it should also be noted that i was doing SO much journalism research about this period and i found a bunch of WILD quotes from marc that i compiled into a small insane vision board of them to ground my fic in his crazy way of conceptualizing his life. that i apparently also deleted while zen-ed out. so

more stupid behind the scenes under the cut

actual plot summary (my "outline") that i wrote out at the top of my google doc complete with typo:

Thinking about how absolutely distressing it would be for Marc pre surgery or right after if Vale tried to reconcile. Early 2022 before surgery decision and post Vale retirement

Scenes of Vale like. earnestl y talking to him. Marc represses a panic attack every time. race by race?

and here's what i had written for aragon, which is full of lines i just thought of with NO context or structure like this part would NOT take off the ground. you might notice some of them get repurposed later in the fic:

III. French GP, 2022. P6.

Marc’s still not out of the habit of reaching for him, apparently. He looks— God. Marc’s head hurts just looking at him. He could swear he has defenses from this, from how Marc can feel where he is in every room they’re in together. He guesses somewhere in the last few weeks he’s lost them, again. Just another thing he used to be good at.

despite everything, Marc can feel himself relax, with Vale here. The warm heat of him sharing space. He used to feel like this all the time. Vale to his left. His arm, casual and pain free, on his right. Now he's scarred all the way down both sides.

He remembers when he was a kid and he met Vale. How he had winked at Marc and said, I'll look out for you, cradling the toy car that Marc had brought specifically to give to him in his hands. How Marc had turned it over in his brain for years. I'll look out for you.

Marc bargains with himself

Marc does stupid, stupid things when Vale is in his life. He knows this. Going to the ranch is a bad idea. the press alone, if anyone finds out, would feed the paddock journos for years. It would be stupid— risky

Someone needs to tell him not to race. calm him down. Usually, it’s Álex. 

MORE OUTLINE: Vale brings him a sandwich and Marc wants to cry, terrible race. They watch a movie its very Valentino voice lemme take care of you !!! but no talking about their past lmao. maybe arm

Genuinely terrible race. That one stat about alwasy finishing top 5 or crashing. Vale like actually gets him to talk about his arm which gets no where fast (guest alex?) and riding misery begins to reach a tipping point

[rulanarinrush]

drdt ch2 ep 14 spoilers. just general thoughts. also, i express a bit more opinions in here than normal, but I don't mean it as criticism. It's just personal preference, so please don't feel offended if you disagree.

So Ace vs. Eden huh... if I hadddd to bet on those two and not a third option it would be Ace? Just purely from an evidence standpoint. David is kind of right that this "bda" rule is incredibly flimsy not just for the scenario he pointed out, but because Eden could have closed her eyes and flinched right at the moment of Arei's drop, because even if she could do something if the mechanism went wrong i severely doubt Eden is faster than gravity. Not much to be done there even if something doesn't go according to plan. Like with the "all murderers must be punished" rule im sure that will be used in a murder plan at some point.

There is one thing I think that wasn't discussed in Nico's attempted murder plan, and that's how did they get Ace in the gym? I don't mean "how did they knock him out." I mean that the plan is very specific, and the playground and relaxation room don't exactly have things that are easy to hang someone from(without a rope, obviously.) I can't measure the length of the wire but considering that the playground is two-storeys tall if Nico's plan could've also worked in the playground, does that thing even count as a wire anymore or is that just a sharp whip that was condemned by god.

Back to the main point, how did Nico just happen to get Ace on the right floor? I don't think they had to knock him out in the gym specifically, but it is WILD to me that anyone would take the risk of knocking Ace out on the first floor and dragging him to the elevators like at that point just stab the guy and be done with it. So it makes more sense to me that Ace went to the second floor of his own volition, and Nico followed him. But this is where I think Teruko and Nico might become pivotal in defending Eden. I can't remember the episode she says this in anymore, but right before they hear the fan break, Eden says "I know you've been following me!" She could of course just be paranoid that someone watching her prepare for a murder,(starchy ball of clothing, esp with teruko's clothes right there and teruko) but it could mean that she sensed someone following her right after the Arei-Arturo thing. Ace can of course easily defend this as saying he went to the gym to work out(makes sense tbh) but if Nico says they caught him off guard with the chlo-- turpentine because Ace was hiding and watching something, that may definitively prove that he is at least more suspicious than Eden. After all, this guy is no stranger to eavesdropping on people's conversations, and it is an ... interesting coincidence to be both where the victim was right before she was lured out and the person the killer intended to frame. Also for this to work, he was probably the one eavesdropping on at least the first half of the infirmary conversation(this part still gets me confused, but im going to assume he ran into the cafeteria after hearing arei coming) and that he saw Arturo leave, but guessed the part about "Arei promising to do anything." Then it makes a bit of sense for him to stalk eden that day, stalk arei the next day, then commit his murder in the morning after gathering all the information he needs. It also makes sense for him to be waiting for the right time to get the fish. He and Eden are also the only ones that could've grabbed the tape before the gym closed, because apparently it closed right after they left and I missed this detail. so Levi couldn't have investigated it immediately after.

As for Hu and Nico I do like the themes of infantilization and self-worth and helplessness. Levi is taking being judged with very neurotypical condemning language pretty well actually, but I assume he's probably heard worse in his life. And also knows there's more on the line now than his feelings, or Eden's. I never really assumed Hu was the killer because so much of her alibis would need to be waved off for this plan to work, and that feels kind of sloppy to me. I believe that any talented writer can make any twist work but it would be very hard to do I think, and perhaps more effort than it is worth.

I don't hang around here much(I say this too often but it is true. Social media does not make me feel particularly great.) so I don't know everyone's big theories and all but from what I do see the main rebuttals to Ace being the killer is that his intelligence is too low and that he doesn't fit the theme of the chapter. The first point is somewhat fair to make I think, but I do think that "someone is too dumb to commit murder" is a poor argument to make when it applies to people like the ultimates. All talents require a level of strategy, sports are no exception. And lets not forget he did have a model murder to use(Eden too).

As for the second point, after doing some thinking, I think he does actually fit the theme of this chapter very well, especially as a foil to the victim, Arei. Maybe at first glance it doesn't make sense for someone who hasn't tried very hard to be a good person at all to be the murderer, but he and Arei have both had someone they deemed to be a "good person" watching over them, always willing to extend a hand despite the poor treatment. These are of course Levi and Eden, in that order. It turned out that Levi isn't exactly Ace's perfect idea of a friend(I mean at this point who is, no one can replace Taylor that's not how people work...), but he still, like Eden, was willing to overlook Ace's faults time and time again. Ace has a right to be upset, but he is cruel without trying to perform kindness like Arei was. Arei died trying to change herself into a better person. Ace never tried. By killing someone willing to put themself at risk for others, who ironically enough is like Levi in that way, he affirms his own worldview. Eden is also implied to be not exactly perfect as well, but the theme of this whole chapter challenges the idea of inherent good and evil. But you can always try to better yourself.

Eden being the killer also fits the theme of the story well and I think that it's not really a bad writing decision for her to be the killer, even if the parallels tug at your heart(they don't really for me truthfully, but if I wasn't moved by Min's I guess I won't be moved now either). It would be hard but not impossible for Teruko to trust again even if Eden is the killer after that performance. But that still doesn't change the fact that imo, no one has a motive to be her accomplice. How could she have gotten the fish then?

There is one more thing I'm thinking about with regards to the "intelligence problem" in that I still believe this case feels a bit sloppy, not narratively, but for the killer. 7:30 is a really tight time to pick, especially when you know that everyone is meeting up 30 minutes later, whether they want to or not. If it were me, I'd at least pick 7:00, not an unreasonable hour, but more time for the water to dry. Also, what if it turns out Arei is chronically late for things lmao? There is also the note. There is no way the killer could have predicted David's um. Fun exercises of one's patience, so trying to make an alibi for yourself by banking on the "in the evening" time of death is so very risky. Not to mention what if someone had gone to the playground at night with a group of people? Then it has to be in the morning. This leads to the note. I've talked about this before, but I wonder why it was discarded that way at all. The obvious choice is that they didn't want to risk the note being found shoved down the killer's skirt or pants when they had to meet up in like five minutes, but you can eat the note. That is just something you can do. But that might not occur to someone with an eating disorder.

(Thoughts on the episode are done, next part is just me kind of promoting.)

For my friend who knows who you are: i cannot believe the day i have to draw horseace draws closer. I can't even draw normal horses, how am i supposed to do this. born to write forced to draw.

For everyone else: I am doing drabbletober this year, and am open to requests. My ao3 has the same name as my tumblr if you want examples. Feel free to shoot me an ask here if you want me to write something. I don't take nsfw requests from anyone who isn't 18+ tho. Also, I'll try to write it when I can, which may be before October, but I will place my trust in you- please do not claim my writing as your own before I post it to ao3. pretty please okay.

[lynxgriffin]

Hi Lynx! It's the No Sleep O'Clock Comic-Binge Anon again. (I did sleep after sending you that ask. Don't worry.) Hope you're doing well and having a pleasant... uh... whatever time it is when you see this. This ask is a little long but I couldn't stop gushing and couldn't figure where I should trim. I hope you don't mind.

I wound up focusing on Dogs and finished that first in my spare time. I'm a bit of a weirdo who loves cut content and all kinds of tiny obscure details in any setting so when everything hit the ground? Gorgeous. Beautiful. Wonderful. Like, I knew everything would end well because the Tone was very much Canon (goofy and fun, if at times a little hOLY-) but there were definitely some moments throughout the story had Concern. Origins? ...yikes. And the end? I did not see that coming. Or the post-ending stuff; those were very sweet and some more bittersweet. I wanna meet some fictional adults. Just talk, I swear. (pay no attention to the tough glove.)

I'm currently about... still kinda early in Paper Trail. Just hit Ch4. Again it feels strongly in Tone while being its own unique spin on things. It veers in very different territory as it was pre-Ch2 but things are fun and very cool. The Anagram Crayon Gotes are an interesting spin as well as them being... very much their colors. (Also RIP Kris and Susie. Y'all keep "delinquenting" but honestly who in Hometown's gonna believe this Shounen Anime plot?) Did NOT expect that fight; some pieces had me in stitches. This is a very wild ride and I can't wait to see where it goes. Actually all the fights look like they'd be fun encounters in the game proper. Kudos on that.

Thank you for your hard work with both stories. The sheer amount of effort not only in laying out the plot but drawing it all and keeping at it? I am always impressed and delighted.

I hope keeping it vague like this helps prevent spoilers for any latecomers / lapsed readers while still making sense. Good night!

Ahh sheesh, thank you for the very long and detailed ask! Also, I'm glad that you enjoyed DOFP and all the extra content for it, too! :D Especially glad to hear you thought it got the tone down well, I always feel like that's such a tricky thing to get!

Also thank you for the kind words on PT so far! Also glad that you thought the fight scenes worked well!

Thank you again for the long comment, I super appreciate it! :D

[laugtherhyena]

So fun fact about me and the another series; I found out about it back in 2018 just one or two weeks before Ch3 came out and spend the next 3 or 4 years being hooked onto the game until the fixation died down and only returned to me around August or September of lasy year.

Meaning that through 2/3s of Sdra2 i was able to see the chapters as they were coming out and that's honestly something i wish more people in the current fandom could have experienced because it was so fun seeing the hype around a chapter that's soon to come out spike up with all kinds of theories, predictions and people hoping their favorites won't die (i remember i even had a dream once where chapter 5 released and Teruya murdered Iroha by tying her into a train track and waiting for it to run over her after she came to him and told him about being a void and he was like, trying to get rid of all remaining void by killing Iroha himself and wining the class trial, which would in kill Mikado too. Wild shit, but it's a dream you know?). And of course, whenever a new chapter did release the entire fandom would collectively freak out for the entire day as random instagram accs posted Cgs and bits of roughly translated information through the day alongside the deaths and executions and this hype around the newest chapter would sprout all kinds of art, edits and more theories for the following month or two.

All around awesome experience? Not exactly. Because this also means i got to see Linuj's crazy plot twist as they were being revealed and here's where we get to the actual subject of this long ramble/rant; Kokoro Mitsume and how i really wish i could have spoiled myself of what happens in Ch0 because that would have spared me of so much pain.

And let me tell you, when i say pain, i am by no means exaggerating. You people have no idea how much i cried when Ch0 came out. My little 15 year old head was going through the 5 stages of grief over that plot twist, that shit didn't even feel real to me until one or two days after its release.

One thing you gotta know about me is that before i became the Ayame person™ Kokoro was my absolute favorite character of the another series, and if you know me for even just a little while then you know how insanely attached i am to her despite being a minor character who dies 1/3 of the way through the game.

Like, y'all don't understand, i was so happy when i saw that one Cg of her and Mikado in my timeline, so genuinely ecstatic to see more of her after i thought her character done with since the events of Ch2. Can you magine how i felt after watching the character i adored so so much turn out to be a vile human being? I was genuinely so distraught man, i spent a good while being one of those people that ignored everything about the characters irl selves because that twist hurt me so damn much, but even then i was never able to look at that character the same way again, even now she just makes me feel bad.

And it's s not that i think Kokoro is the worst person to have ever existed, i like antagonist/villain characters who've done much worse than her, hell, I don't even think her character was absolutely ruined or anything. When i think about Mitsume nowadays i genuinely find her an interesting case of a good person with big plans who lacked a proper support system or even friends which led her down a path where she became cold and cruel without a semblance of care for her own family so long as she could work on her project, and seeing the difference between the Kokoro we see as a teen and her adult self just makes all of this even more heartbreaking. I still like her, is just that having my perception of this character be completely shattered when Ch0 came out permanently affected how i view her and as much as i still enjoy her character even now I can't help but simultaneously hate her for how she made me feel ❤️

[smt4flynn]

ch2; embiggen, embolden

Note: R18/Explicit, minors DNI!

I decided to write a chapter 2-ish of my fanfic; this isn't actually really a follow-up to the first chapter, but more like a 'what-if Astarion decided to do something else' ('-')b

---------------------

“You want me to just watch?” are the words that slip out of you when Astarion carries you away, settling you safely on a rock a small distance away from him, and he tilts his head at you with amusement. Aglow with the magics that have him large, Astarion is quite the intimidating sight – he towers you, casting a shadow over you that the cursed lands only seem to amplify. There is a wild sort of joy in his eyes at the fact that he is so large he can scoop you up in his hand and just swallow you down into his stomach.

The thought is terrifying.

You push it away, trying to focus now instead on the fact that Astarion has something perverse dancing behind those eyes of his. That he trusts you enough to want to indulge in strange, fetishistic acts is warming, even if a bit embarrassing.

“Yes, darling, though you could have worded it much better than that, don’t you think?” he says teasingly, two fingers playfully rubbing the top of your head, and you bring your hands up to rub them, nuzzling your cheek into his touch. He smiles sweetly. “I want you to watch me touch myself; I am curious as to how much I... spend, I can produce, if you will.” you roll your eyes and Astarion lets out a rumbling chuckle, amused by you as much as he is himself. “Oh come now, don’t give me that look.”

“Even when my beloved is being perverse?” you ask softly. His face softens for a small moment and he bends close to you to give you another extremely chaste kiss, probably just to keep from pushing you over. You return it as best you can, given how small you are with him like this. “I’ll refrain from judgment, then. Very well, make me audience to your degeneracy.”

With a laugh, he comes to a stand and you focus on him undressing his bottoms. You watch as he unties the binds of his breeches, fingers hooking into the waistband to push them down where his legs are revealed.

You normally admire his legs; despite the fact that he isn’t as thickset as Halsin is, there are clear muscles in his legs from all of the acrobatics he gets into. His legs aren’t as big as Halsin’s, though they are clearly muscular, firm, and strong. Seeing his legs so large now, enough to quite literally crush you into nothing, it does embarrass you more than it should. His briefs cling to his crotch, bulging with his growing erection, and you are momentarily flustered with how... well, big it is.

Pushing the embroidered underwear down, you are completely floored at the sight of his erection bobbing out. It is already drooling at the tip, thick globs of pre-cum beading before dragging down the veiny underside of his erection. He steps back before stopping, as though reconsidering himself, and then he takes a seat next to you instead. He plucks you off of your rock and settles you atop his leg, which you have to throw your hands out so that you can try and balance yourself and keep yourself from rocking off. He lets one leg laze in front of him, the one you’re setting on opening at an angle on the ground, as though to keep you away from his erection.

“Well then,” Astarion says, as though attempting to hype himself up, before finally wrapping his hand around his fat, bobbing erection. He gasps, almost as if surprised by his own touch, giving himself a squeeze and slowly he begins to move his hand up and down his erection. You watch, enraptured, at the sight of his large hand gliding across his throbbing cock, the vein on the underside looking especially prominent. His free hand reaches down to cup his heavy looking testes, squeezing them in his grip and he lets out a shrill moan.

His strokes grow faster while he continues massaging his heavy testicles, mouth falling open with his groaning, and you shift on his leg. You spread your own and jolt your hips, trying to get any friction against your aching vulva, utterly enraptured by the way his foreskin moves with his furious masturbation. You grind leisurely against his leg and you hear him huff; when you tilt your head back, it is to the sight of his eyes focusing on you, teeth sinking down to his lower lip to turn it all red and swollen.

He gazes sidelong at you, lips slightly parted, all while keeping his movements on his straining cock, still squeezing and rubbing at his heavy balls, and he watches as you grind yourself down on his leg, your thighs tensing and a deep ache spreading throughout your abdomen, your cunt pulsing and feeling achingly empty.

“So cute,” Astarion murmurs, voice heavy with want; pre-cum is dribbling heavily from his tip, and your panties sticking to your vulva from your own arousal, and he grunts when his strokes grow sloppier and sloppier. He leans back, voice growing higher pitched and a little whiny; something about this scenario seems to be especially getting him off. He moans, breathy and almost begging, and he keens abruptly, squeezing himself roughly, and you watch as he finally cums -

With the increase in size, it seems it means an increase in how much he ejaculates. So much cum spurts out of him, forming a small puddle before the two of you, and you watch in awe at the thick amount that he ends up squeezing out of himself. He gasps and whines, stroking himself still, rubbing and squeezing his balls to try and keep his orgasm going. His hips lift up, almost jolting you off, and he gasps, his voice a long whine, until he can no longer keep cumming, producing nothing and stroking himself just to feel the over-sensitivity before he shivers and finally lets his hand drop.

Your attention is dragged away to the amount of semen currently cooling (further, given his sperm is already surprisingly cold) in the environments of the shadow-cursed lands. There is... so much. It is almost daunting how much there is, and Astarion chuckles, noticing your gaze.

“We are going to have to figure out how to clean that.” you say while Astarion lazes like a cat sunbathing. He just snorts.

“Thinking of cleaning up when you’re wet and wanting? What a pragmatic dear you are.” and you flush. You shift a little uncomfortably, reminded of the fact that your panties are clinging to your vulva, that you are still dripping wet and desperate for him, even though you... really do not know if you can take him.

Still, Astarion taps at you to look up at him so that you can see him poke his tongue out, flicking it up in a quick movement, and – “Astarion!” you cry out, scandalized, and he laughs all in good humour.

“It would be fun to figure out though, wouldn’t it?”

As it turns out, it is fun to figure out if Astarion can eat you out. A lot, actually, and he is all laughs and sweet little smiles by the end of it.

[northern-passage]

Hello, I have a bit of a weird ask!

So the veil, yeah? Can it only be opened in the air, or can it be opened on objects? Like a wall, ground ect. And by that—can it be opened on a living person?

Idk if I’m remembering how the veil works correctly or not but I still find it very interesting on how it works!! (My hunter may have…done a stupid rjskdnwjdj)

hmmm not quite? you can't really open a portal or anything like that.

the realms beyond the Vel are always there, layered on top of the mortal realm. the Vel keeps it separate, but when it tears or weakens, some of the other realms will start to leak through, whether that just be the Vel's dark magic, or wild magic from the other side, or actual physical creatures.

at the end of the fight in ch2 the Vel is completely torn, and something does come through and interact with the hunter, and we also see a lot of magic surging out of control, with Keres' electricity and the storm strengthening along with the flooding.

spoilers i guess but when they close it, they do anchor it to a building. they use the temple as a focal point to build their runes and reseal it. but it's not necessarily going to result in a direct connection or a portal or anything like that. we've kinda seen this anchoring done already with Noel's wards that he's been building up all through the isolation district in xir attempt to reinforce the Vel. breaking the wards won't make a perfect portal but it can cause it to tear again.

when the hunter has that dream at the end of the first chapter, the rot allows them for a moment to see through the Vel and see what's on the other side. the chain, the eyes, and even the rain halting in midair, that's all present even when they can't see it. they end up fully opening the Vel then in their fugue state but luckily Noel finds them and closes it back up.

honestly it's kind of hard to describe hahaha. if you've seen lord of the rings, imagine when frodo puts the ring on. he gets "shifted" into the unseen realm. that's similar to what happens when the Vel opens, there are two realms merging together. hunters can typically sense these other realms, even when the Vel is closed, because they are still connected to it. that's how the hunter tracks the wraith in the prologue.

[eksvee15]

EUREKA, UTDR THEORISTS.

I have been working on a theory regarding all of our repetitive smiles. All the weird smiles we don't know the meaning of in Undertale and Deltarune? That theory attempts to solve this mystery.

I call this theory, the Cheshire Smiles Theory, or the Consequences Theory. Bear with me on this one because it'll be a wild [Ride Around Town].

Disclaimer, this theory bases itself off the "Chara is the consequence, not the villain" theory, the "Kris hates us" theory, the overpopular "MysteryMan is Gaster's sprite" theory and the whole shtick of the secret bosses seeking out freedom. This theory also bases itself around the concept of Consequences a LOT. If you don't believe/like any of those theories, read at your own risks and don't get angry at me. I warned.

What is a cheshire cat's smile?

Smiling like a cheshire cat, as defined by google, goes as follows : "The Chesire Cat grin is an expression made by The Trickster who's up to something, and 'something' never bodes well for the person they are smiling at. Usually, it involves their total humiliation - occasionally it involves mortal danger."

Alternatively, a cheshire cat smile can be compared to the very literal meaning of it : The smile found on the enigmatic Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. The peculiar traits we'll focus on here will be the enigmatic smiles behind which he hides, as well as its ability to disappear and appear at any time.

In Undertale and Deltarune, however, smiles are relatively common. Happy smiles like Papyrus and Undyne's, embarassed smiles like Alphys', fake smiles like Rouxls Kaard's, hopeful smiles like Asgore's and Asriel's, evil smiles like KING's and somewhat Queen's? But most notably Flowey (the absolute king of evil and fake smiles here). This leaves a type of smile : The type of smile found on Chara, Spamton, Jevil, Sans to an extent, MysteryMan/Gaster, Spamton NEO, Kris in the Ch1 ending, and the TV's smile in the Ch2 ending. Those, are which I'll refer to as cheshire smiles, and I believe they come from a specific cause : Consequences. Those smiles that seem to appear and disappear when we least expect it? They're all thanks to the consequences of actions. Ours, theirs, actions overall. And I'm going to explain why.

Undertale's Cheshire smiles

The most obvious cheshire smile I think about here is Chara's. Chara, the demon that comes when you call its name. You only see their smile upon completing either a No Mercy run, or a Post NoMercy Pacifist run. Chara is the literal embodiment of the consequences of our actions, here to delete our world regardless of our choice after a No Mercy run, here to remind us of our actions if we try a Pacifist afterwards. Chara is there. Chara remembers. Chara reminds. Chara is the consequence we deserve. And their smile is engraved in our game, as a consequence of making the underground go empty. And it will be there every single time.

Chara here is the whole basis of why this theory exists. A smile that we don't expect, a smile that randomly appears, and a smile motivated by the consequences of our actions. The perfect place to start. Chara is going to be our standart for what a Cheshire smile means in Undertale and Deltarune alike.

Our next candidate in Undertale will be Sans. Although Sans doesn't constantly seem to fit the description of cheshire smile, he is actually one of those that fits the BEST, both based on Cheshire Cat standarts and Chara standarts. He appears and disappears at will, has an unforgettable smile, is a literal judge, is silly and lazy (like a cat) but also, the Sans fight is the most memorable consequence of doing the No Mercy run. Sans' true smile, different from his smile in the textbox, only appears in the ending of a run most of the time, be it in the True Pacifist ending, or the No Mercy ending, we will be faced with that smile, possibly for dozens of times over. I don't count Papyrus, because Papyrus' smile is always innocent, happy, cheerful, confident. Sans' smile never shows emotion, he's a pokerface. Yes, I know, he appears shocked when we hit him but come on. This doesn't disprove it. Sans is peculiar also in the sense that he is very much depressed. Be it through the HP is Hope theory, or just by Undertale lore standarts, it's obvious Sans is depressed and his smile isn't there for himself. Which WOULD qualify him as a fake smiler if the whole rest of the explanation didn't matter, and if the Sans lore wasn't as complicated as it is. It's obvious something happened to make Sans stay like this, he's not just keeping it up for the image. We've yet to discover why, though.

The last member of this list will be MysteryMan/Gaster. I know he's relevant in both games, but his first real appearance is in Undertale plus his lore is in Undertale, so I'll put him there. Gaster is similar to Sans in his cheshire traits, in the sense that he is incredibly mysterious, basically can disappear at will, and his smile seems frozen on his face. A trait also similar to Cheshire Cat is that he doesn't seem real despite being in front of us. However, Gaster has no relevant appearance in the game for us, why would his smile be cheshire if there's none of our consequences? Well that's it, the consequences aren't OURS. They're HIS. His smile is frozen like this, frozen through time and space, because his ambition caused him to fall into his own creation. He was his own downfall, and as a consequence, he is stuck like this. Once again, a smile caused in consequences.

Notes

One could argue OMEGA Flowey's smile is a cheshire one, given the entire embodiment of consequence that he is. However, that's the only trait he has, a consequence that's not even caused. It's a decision he takes, the only consequence is that he looks like that after taking the souls, nothing more. OMEGA Flowey, much like Flowey, has a smile stuck in the Evil Smiles cathegory.

Mad Dummy and Mad MewMew don't count here, as their smiles are either malicious or, in No Mercy, genuine happiness. While the latter comes from a consequence, it isn't nearly relevant enough to be cheshire, and has no implication aside from "I finally became myself".

Deltarune's Cheshire smiles

With the Undertale part out of the way, time for the big bit of this theory : Deltarune. And oh boy do I have a lot to talk to. Bear in mind, Chara's smile is the standart Cheshire smile portrayed by Toby Fox.

Our first contestant here will be Kris. Kris? But they never smile!. . . They do, once to our knowledge. In the Chapter 1 ending, Kris flashes a menacing, yet.. Familiar smile to us. I believe this smile is the consequence of us, the soul, possessing them and making them do all of this, and their smile here as well as their actions is their way to fight back. It's to send a message to us, that consequences are coming. This smile is VERY reminiscent of Chara's own smile, which shows up at the end of the run and reminds us that our actions WILL have consequences. This is exactly Kris' message here, I believe. Small note here, this will be the one smile that barely doesn't fall out of cheshire. It's WAY on the fronteer, but given how relevant Kris' smile is in this scene, it barely makes it in.

Next up is Jevil, our good ole' jester of the deck himself. Jevil is probably the character that smiles the most in Deltarune, as he never gives it up. Even the Devilsknife is smiling, to quote him, and he IS the Devilsknife. Jevil has the silliness, and the ability to disappear to reappear, while also having the dangerousness and most of all - being optional. The consequences here, again and much like with Gaster, don't come from us. Seam (a smiling cat..how peculiar and conveinient.), Jevil's friend, gives us insight and story on Jevil. Evidently, Jevil found himself behind bars due to his false belief of being free to do anything, and going rogue because of it. Jevil broke, and his insanity lead him to where he is today as a consequence. Jevil is stuck smiling in his little freedom in the end.

We've been to one end of the freedom scale, let's go to the other end : Spamton G. Spamton. This guy has probably the biggest amount of consequence events in the entire Deltarune yet. He was a salesman, got a phonecall and as consequence his smile was everywhere, the phonecalls left so he fell to the dumpster and now he's just a smiler puppet craving ..something. The biggest reason I bring him to the table is because HE IS LITERALLY A COPY PASTE OF CHARA IN THE SNOWGRAVE RUN. He gives us the weapon of the kill, tells us how many left, and he is the overpowering force you meet at the very end of Chapter 2's dark world if you do Snowgrave. In parallel he calls out every single action you've taken. He literally does Chara's job in Deltarune Chapter 2's weird route, in which he becomes the embodiment of the consequences of our actions. In the normal route, as himself, he's a broken man trying to escape the situation his own consequences put him in. Spamton NEO is his own worst invention, an award losing smile to lose it all. Another thing that shows the cheshire in Spamton would be the way he seems to be everywhere. Check any dumpster, it'll have a pillow inside. Spamton lives everywhere. Even the LoadedDisk item smiles in your hand, like Devilsknife with Jevil.

Finally, the TV at the end of Chapter 2. I think it's going to be a prelude to a cheshire smile, it has the design for it already and with all the smiles we've encountered so far, this feels very much like Kris' smile. A prelude to danger, a message. We know one thing for sure : it's here because of a bad consequence. Kris opened a dark fountain, despite Ralsei's warnings. As a result, this smile comes into play to tell us things are about to go south. I think this preludes a Cheshire smile for the character this is supposed to foreshadow, especially considering their entire smile will be a reminder of Kris' actions in opening that fountain to begin with. If it's Mike's smile? We'll probably see it everywhere.

Notes

One thing I didn't mention is something I said at the very beggining. The cheshire cat's smile is prelude to danger and a bad message, which Jevil, Spamton NEO and the TV's smile all represent.

Similar to previous examples, Ralsei, Susie and Lancer are no cheshire. They're not a consequence, and Ralsei's smiles are of utter kindness, Susie's are usually positively mischievous or just genuine, and Lancer. . .is Lancer.

Important to note here that Mike essentially humiliated Spamton, which feeds even more in my theory of Mike's smile being cheshire-esque.

There you have it. My entire theory on the hidden types of smile through both games. I believe this will probably amount to something in the end of Deltarune if my theory prooves true, and if it does, then the ending of Deltarune might really change as a consequence of finding all of those secret bosses. But that's a theory for later.

Thanks for reading, I'd love your input in this and PLEASE take care of yourself, 'cause someone really cares about you :)

[direwombat]

Wip poll game

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner received.

Thank you to @ivymarquis for the tag. If I listed all my wips I'd need multiple posts, so here are the ones that have made it past the conceptual phase that I actually have some noble intentions of finishing

Tagging: @socially-awkward-skeleton, @adelaidedrubman, @strangefable, @jillvalentinesday, @voidika, @aceghosts, @purplehairsecretlair, @henbased, @gaeadene, @inafieldofdaisies, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @wrathfulrook, @josephslittledeputy, @madparadoxum, and anyone else wanting a kick in the pants to work on any wips you've been struggling to find the motivation for (but no pressure 🧡)

[honorthysalad]

alright so the preview of the hgsn light novel came out. I plugged it into google translate so obviously whatever I got isn’t completely accurate, but it wasn’t hard to get the gist.

so far there’s only the first chapter of the light novel out along with a few pages of the second chapter. This first part goes over Hikaru’s death from CH10 and then the entirety of CH1 and CH2. Mostly told from Yoshiki’s perspective, but we have Hikaru’s for the beginning and then Matsuura’s perspective for the beginning of the second chapter before she dies.

It follows the manga pretty much exactly. Any extra information is entirely supplemental and useless to the plot, which is what I expected. I guess the most interesting thing was that when Hikaru and Yoshiki were talking about their post-graduation plans, Yoshiki hoped that Hikaru would want to go to Tokyo as well, but he never did. And Yoshiki thinks ‘Hikaru’ is beautiful.

there was some expansion on the village. It’s long since merged with Kibogayama (idfk im going off memory) town, so it can’t really be considered a village, but the ppl who live there still call it one. Also it’s an hour long bike ride from Yoshiki’s house to the school.

Orange things were repeated a lot. Orange rice fields, orange breadcrumbs, orange light, orange glass. Probably to show that Hikaru’s influence lingers everywhere since orange is his favorite color.

Yoshiki thinks about how he isn’t nice because people who are nice forgive others (might be because of google translate tho) and i think that’s interesting.

We saw a little bit of Yoshiki’s mom. She’s got an angry voice and complains about his hair a lot.

all in all, it’s about what I expected. I am looking forward to them adapting CH3 because that has a section where we get ‘Hikaru’s perspective at the end, and that’s easily the part I’m most interesting in seeing in written form. However I don’t really think they’re going to go too wild with it. I’m guessing that it’ll end at adapting CH7 because that’s kind of the actual end of the vol 1 and will just stick with the plot.

[spectralsleuth]

Favorite fics? Doesn't have to be rise or even turtle related

Oh man I got very excited for this ask. I have been in a lot of different fandoms for a very long time- but lets start with some of my all timers.

Now What I'm Going To Say May Sound Indelicate (Rated E)

A Reddie fic for It CH2, which I've probably reread about fifty times. It's unfinished, and probably never will be finished, but it's absolutely worth a read. The writing is incredible, and it's my singular favorite fic of all time. A lot of medical procedures and recovery, since (spoiler) someone gets impaled at the end of the movie and this is exploring how they might live through that.

_________________________________________________

Blue Sky (Rated T (from what I remember))

PDF VERSION

I hope this link works- the first link is fanfiction dot net, which is hard to use after so many years, and the other is a pdf I found of someone who downloaded a version to share. This fic is from 2011, and is actually pretty famous. Based off of Portal 2, what happens when Wheatley gets a body? I've actually been meaning to reread it because I barely remember it at this point, but this fic came out about a year before I graduated high school and opened my eyes to the fact that fanfiction can be actual published novel quality.

Also friendly reminder that if you love a fic, download it. Not to repost obviously, but websites disappear and works get deleted for any number of reasons and you may in fact be helping an author out.

_________________________________________________

Wow. This is fucking wild-

From Out the Ocean Risen (Rated T)

A Pacific Rim fic that started publishing in 2013- last time I reread this, YEARS AGO, the series was as of yet unfinished. It's a fantastic body-horror-esque story of the implications of aliens and hiveminds and what makes a monster. It's Newton Giezler-centric and FANTASTICALLY written-

and it JUST updated this month in 2023. I had no idea, but searching through my fic list made me notice. I thought, surely it's just an update to apologize for abandoning the fic- but no! It's an actual new chapter.

If you guys ever wanted to show support for a fic that's been abandoned, this one deserves it immensely. Show it some love, it's never too late to hop on board and enjoy a fic and you never know what someone will return to.

_________________________________________________

Pirate King Laurence (Rated T)

'His Majesties Dragon' is a super good age of sail book series, sometimes called 'Temeraire', that's as if a Pride and Prejudice character was captain of a dragon crew. This is a little bit of an AU to that, and is one of my all time favorite Temeraire fic series.

_________________________________________________

the run and go (Rated M)

Post Homestuck fic. 560k words. Still being updated- enough said, it's fantastic. This is probably the longest fic on my list. Involves a lot of unpacking about Dave and Bro and not just what it's like recovering from an abusive childhood, but reconciling with the person you love who abused you. Also everyone lives. Everyone.

_________________________________________________

>Dave: survive three years on this rock (Rated T)

One more Homestuck fic for the road- there was a period of time where the Homestuck tag was nothing BUT meteor fic. If you were in the fandom, iykyk. This one was probably the most in character Dave and great portrayal of what it would be like actually living within a universe made up of date game mechanics.

_________________________________________________

The Other Hawke (Rated E)

If anyone's gone through the rest of my fic besides TMNT stuff, they've seen my SECOND largest fandom I've written for, which was Dragon Age. More specifically, I fixated on most peoples least favorite character on the whole series- Carver Hawke. Hahaha. I just really fixate on the oddest characters, huh?

This is a fic about what his life outside of his brother is like, and giving him a lot of depth that you don't get in the video game series. Also he is getting dicked down by Fenris, which is a fantastic pairing I didn't know I needed. It's hilarious, and romantic, and very tense.

Man. I gotta reread a lot of these. Thanks so much for the ask! Sorry if it got a little out of hand haha.