#does the dead twin thing push it over the edge?

[hisbutler-problematic]

by introducing the dead twin, did they effectively make ciel/lizzie the more problematic ship? like. he’s been lying to her about her dead fiancé for years now

he has been pretending to be her dead fiancé for years

like. sebaciel is only fucked up bc seb is hundreds of years old and is probably grooming ciel who is barely 13. but like. ciel knows he’s doing it and is aware of what’s going on and like KNOWS this is a wholeass demon he’s working with and he actively agreed to it and even arguably made it so he had some-to-most of the power in the relationship. 10 year olds legally can’t sign contracts bc they physically can’t fully understand consequences yet but ciel certainly didn’t take it laying down

also what can seb even do to him that is worse than what was already done to him

and in a philosophical way, does it really matter what seb does to him? he’s living for revenge and then seb is going to eat his soul.

i would argue that in some ways sebaciel is more ethical bc it’s fucked up yes but at least they’re keeping it in their own bubble and not getting anyone else involved

i genuinely can’t get over “ciel has been lying to lizzie for years that he is her dead fiancé” in the sense of people who would argue that it’s the better ship of the two

like actually both ships are problematic and we should appreciate them for what they are

this is not anti ciel/lizzie btw. i have anti ciel/lizzie words with this revelation, but my current argument is not that bc i think problematic ships are good and valid BUT we should NOT be pretending they’re not problematic

[sadbastard-bug]

Bros before hoes (sorry sophie)

Aka Simon and the reader walk to get donuts to distract Simon from his rejection.

You hadn't heard from Simon in a week, which wasn't exactly normal. A day or two of nothing sure, but a whole seven days of radio silence? Your phone didn't even say he had read the messages you sent. So here you are, a train ride away from home as you stand outside your bestfriends house. You tilt your head as you survey the dead quiet home, theres not a single light on and all the curtains are drawn. Biting back your worries you ascend a short staircase to the porch and hesitantly knock on the glass door. Stepping back you put your hands in your pockets, turning your head skyward as you wait. Theres zero response so you knock again, and again, and again. Each rap against the door more frantic then the last as you genuinely consider breaking in, until eventually you hear it. A shuffling and a very irritated but familiar voice.

Simon looks awful when he opens the door, not looking like he's slept for days and his skin is paler then normal. Theres more stubble then average on his face and his bedhead is so bad you fight the urge to fix it for him the second you notice. You don't realize your stareing until he brings his hand up to his face, clearing his throat. "Why are you here?" It's a easy question but the blunt tone of his voice has you scrambling to explain yourself fast, lest he shut the door in your face.

"You haven't texted or called in days Simon, I got worried something happened to you man."

And with the way hes slumped against the doorframe you do believe something's happened but he does look uninjured at least so you take comfort in that. He doesn't speak for a moment before he sighs and steps back into the house, waving a hand for you to fallow him.

His house is neat, you've come to know his mother is a clean freak who keeps most of the house pristine. Following behind Simon you wordlessly head down the hallway to his room which is the only place his mother doesn't touch. It shows of course, his bed unmade while trash, clothes, and even full plates of food sit around his small room. He doesn't bother to shut the door behind you and instead instantly moves to fall onto his bed, laying on his back completely spread out on the twin sized mattress. Eyeing a plate your pretty sure used to be eggs at some point you quietly move closer to him, stopping right in front of the edge of his bed. Your head tilted as you look down at him, concern clear on your face. "What happened?" The question seems to strike a nerve in your freind and he rolls onto his side to face away from you. His head covered by his hood, though it's clear in his voice he's upset. "I confessed to sophie"

Sophie, right. The third to your trio who you both met in college. A girl who you knew Simon was almost hopelessly into. If it was any other circumstance you would have clapped for him, you certainly never discouraged him from asking her out but not now. Not when it's obvious the girls response wasn't something he was happy about. Biting your cheek you sit beside him on the bed, your backs to eachother as you attempt to give him space without hanging off the mattress. Your afraid to speak even as curiosity eats at your mind. You do want to know exactly how it went but that can be pushed to a later date. When Simon's not curled up in his room like if he gets anymore into himself he'd dissapear. For now you settle for a simple but sympathetic "I'm sorry man"

Not the best thing to say but certainly not the worst. You both sit in deafening silence afterwards, you nervously chewing the insides of your mouth and Simon laying motionless on his side. There's nothing you think would actually help him to hear right now, you know no words of comfort would actually get through his head so you instead go the route of distraction. Clearing your throat you glance over at him "wanna go get donuts?" You honestly thought about suggesting ice cream but that's more of a break up food isn't it? Not exactly for rejection but you do know Simon enjoys sweets so you went for the next thing you could think of. You think he's not going to answer after a while of silence but he eventually shifts, sitting up on his bed as he rubs at his eyes and gives a half hearted nod. You gladly take the confirmation and stand up, brushing off you pants and putting your hands on your hips while you wait for your sluggish freind to pull himself up.

The next thing you know you're both outside his house, you stand off his porch with your skateboard in your arm as he locks the front door behind him. Neither of you own a car so your only option is to walk to the nearest bakery but it's a walk you've done several time by now, years of highschool spent trying to avoid being caught outside by his mom while you both sneak out to satisfy your late night cravings. Once Simon steps off his porch stairs your both off, walking side by side silently in the cold winter air. You wish you had any idea on how to start a conversation but your minds still to concerned with upsetting Simon further so you keep your mouth shut.

About a quarter way into the walk you drop your skateboard to the ground and kick yourself off. Rolling slowly along the sidewalk careful not to move to far ahead of the man your traveling with. It doesn't take long to notice the way he watches you from underneath his hair, his gaze focused on the board. You've tried to teach Simon how to ride multiple times by now but each time ends up with your board several feet away while he sits on the concrete nursing a new injury. You can tell it frustrates him to not be able to get it but you keep trying so once again you slow to a stop, kicking the board up into your hand while you turn your head back to ask "you want to give it a go?"

Simon's eyes drift between your face and the skateboard before he shrugs and steps forward. You smile and return the board to the ground, pushing it towards him and he stops it with his foot. Stepping onto the board he instinctively holds out his arm's to the side, trying to keep balance as the board rolls underneath his feet. He looks like a newborn deer like this, his face scrunched up and his body wobbly not used to the movement of the skateboard while it rolls slowly towards you. Then he leans to far forward, the board almost going out from underneath him and you rush to him with your arms out. The familiar fall never happens however and you eventually register why, your holding his hands as he balances atop the skateboard. You can feel the leather of his gloves warm against your skin and neither of you speak or move for a good second. The board stops still on the sidewalk and you both breath a sigh of relief the air cold enough you can see your exhales. He steps off the board but makes no move to let go of your hands which makes it a bit tricky for him. "You good?" You ask, halfway focused on the way his hands fit in yours. He nods and let's go of one of your hands, only one of them though. You lean down to pick up your board and tuck it under your arm.

You both start walking again completely ignoring the way your still holding onto eachother but it's not awkward. if anything it's the opposite, reminiscent of a time when you two would almost cling to eachother during the winter mornings on your way to school. It's a comfortable thing that spawns a warm feeling in both you're chests. You glance back at him from your peripheral, he's stareing ahead not at all embarrassed or uncomfortable like you expected no, he looks peaceful for the first time in a long while. So you move towards him close to bumping shoulders. This time the silence has shifted to something more normal, something comfortable, Something familiar. A time before college and stress, before sophie and the expected rift between you two when he started crushing on her.

He'll talk about her when hes ready you decide and you'll listen when he does but until then you'll just be quiet, act like kids again. You'll walk hand in hand down an icy sidewalk on a cold day to go get donuts, you'll buy the same kind of donuts you get every time and sit outside the shop on the curb. You'll make a god awful joke about a teacher you both hate and he'll lean forward not to choke as he laughs only to say something even worse in response. You'll drop kick the empty sweets box into the trash and share a cigarette while you head back to his house, laughing the entire time over stupid thoughts in your heads. He won't mention sophie or the confession at all but you won't care, completely okay with being a distraction even if it's for a day. You'll greet his mom later that day as she walks into the home from work and finds you two on the couch watching a bad movie. You'll both help her cook dinner and Simon will actually eat it. You insist on helping wash dishes afterward before you get dragged back to Simon's room where you'll proceed to play video games until your heads are slumped forward and your eyes droop. Simon will pass out first and you'll turn everything off and put it up properly before you eventually fall asleep leaning against the edge of his bed still holding onto his hand, Just like old times.

It's a new thing! I apologize for taking a month to actually post fanfic again after saying I was gonna start writing again but well uh..resident evil and bg3 took up more space in my brain then I thought they would.

This was supposed to be like a hurt/comfort about Simon being sad but somehow it ended up being childhood besties hanging out again, so whoops. Either way it was cute to write dispite my inability to stare at my own writing without tearing my hair out.

;]

[salaapaoo]

for the post of what I wanna see: twin krs&cale au but they hate each other initially. just stupid things like krs assuming cale is just some drunktard and cale hating the fact krs wants to slack when there’s a WAR coming.

so they tug each other’s hair, play pranks on each other and try to sabotage everything the other does. BUT. they are the only ones allowed to hate on each other. if one of the twins get insulted or courted the other twin will be SWINGING. regardless of everything they’re still a team dammit.

sure they get to know each other but this rivalry thing they have going on is easier to keep going than admit they actually like their twin.

THINK ABOUT ITTT

If asked about the other, you'd probably receive a roll of the eyes and a scoff in response.

"Hell if I know where that lazy bastard is, probably chasing after that slacker pipe dream like the irresponsible fuck he is." Cale would bite out, his teeth almost audibly grinding as his face wrinkled with disgust.

"It doesn't matter where that drunk piece of shit is. Could be dead in a ditch for all I care," Roksoo breathes out, not even bothering to look up from the novel in his hand.

-

Cale despised the useless "aspirations" that his brother would spew. There was a war brewing on the horizons, looming over them like the shadow of the grim reaper themself, yet Roksoo wanted nothing more than to lay around. The very sight of his brother lazing around in bed served as fuel to Cale's ire, bubbling and licking up to his throat with a rumbling growl.

To make things worse? Nothing seems to deter Roksoo from his stupid goals.

"Oops," Cale lilted, eyebrows raised in mock sympathy as he knocked his bottle of wine into Roksoo's lap, startling him awake from his nap.

His brother sat up on his bed, the merlot wine sticky against his skin as he turned a heated glare towards Cale. This. That blank stare that barely did anything to conceal the displeasure in Roksoo's eyes was yet another thing Cale hated.

He hated liars, but he hated those who refused to speak their minds just as much. To him, they were just as bad with the way they would spin people in circles with their sugar coated words and glib tongues.

"My apologies, brother," Cale spoke with a smile, sitting at the edge of Roksoo's stained bed. He was satisfied with pushing every single one of Roksoo's buttons in hopes of seeing the other explode one day.

"...the alcohol must have rotted your liver as well as your brain," Roksoo said through gritted teeth.

Before he could get up to leave, a hand had reached up to yank at his hair, the other one still wet with alcohol, wiping against the collar of his shirt.

It devolves into a jumble of wrinkled clothing and petty smacks or kicks, only ending when Ron enters the room. His benign smile looking... menacing.

-

Roksoo watches as his brother scoops up the soup with the elegance of a noble. The same elegance that had technically been trained into him, but he was too lazy to show. He had to hide how the corners of his mouth threatened to curl up with a slow sip of water.

"AASHGHJGSFDK," Cale sputtered, soup spraying out of his mouth in a panic.

It took so much convincing for the chef to finally give in to Roksoo's schemes. If anything, it was probably Ron who ended up convincing his own son, who looked scornful as he dumped spices into Cale's bowl.

Roksoo continued to watch with a raised eyebrow as though he had nothing to do with it.

His brother reached for his glass of water in hopes of saving his dying tastebuds, snot and tears already starting to dribble down his face as he took a massive gulp.

"PFFFFFFFFFF-" Cale spat this out, too.

Roksoo personally dumped salt into his brother's water, making sure it dissolved completely. Cale turned to him with a messy face, coughing as he tried to find words to curse Roksoo with.

"You.. YOU FUCKING BASTARD," he screeched, launching himself at Roksoo, whose face split into a wolfish grin.

-

Roksoo had been minding his own business at the tea house when he overheard a pair of women flapping their mouths and spouting worthless shit.

"Ugh, the older twin, is such a piece of garbage!"

"I know! Why does the count even bother to keep him! The second son, Roksoo Henituse, is an angel compared to that--" The woman's voice cut off with a shrill scream.

Roksoo leaned against the ledge of the window, cheek resting against his palm as the porcelain cup dangled from his fingers, "Better watch your mouth before I accidentally drop this cup, too."

Their faces paled at the sight of him, their mouths failing to form words to defend themselves before they scurried off.

"fucking roaches."

-

"isn't the second young master... kinda lazy?" A man voiced, almost drowned out amongst the rowdy crowd of the bar, "It's like the war doesn't exist to him or something.."

Cale felt his veins pop at the slander, his grip around the neck of the wine bottle tightening until his knuckles were white.

The tavern goes deathly silent at the sound of the bottle shattering on the wall next to the stranger's head.

-

No matter how they act as though they hate each other and continue to slander one another... their true thoughts and feelings towards each other are revealed when the war surges through their territory. Surrounded by the stench of blood in the air around them and the clanging of swords ringing through the battlefield, they cover each other's backs while tearing down enemy after enemy.

[writezeel]

A Kindling of Sorts - SBI OneShot

A Kindling of Sorts (12035 words) - A OneShot I wrote for the @dsmp-bigbang 2021 Accompanied by this beautiful art from @theslyvoid9 please check him out!! 

Tags:  Temporary Character Death, Amnesia, Grief/Mourning, Alternative Universe - Tommy Died, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Alternate Universe - Wings

Summary: 

"There was a ghost on the porch. Because that person in front of him, that child, the lost piece of his heavy, guilty heart, his little brother, was dead."

After a year of grief and hurt spent tucked away in the safety of their childhood home, the rug get's pulled out from underneath them. Because Tommy is back, whole, healthy and alive. Wilbur is overjoyed, Phil is tired and Techno for once does not want to fight. A night spent in the snowbound family home brings up all the things that they had done their best to avoid.

Excerpt: 

There was a ghost on the porch. Thanks to him, that person in front of him, that child, the lost piece of his guilty heart, his little brother, was dead .

~*~

The knock came when he was listlessly looking through the bookshelf near the ever-burning fireplace. The dark furniture, much older than he was himself, was filled with books and curiosities from far away servers, places his family could only try to describe.

While they had persevered, prospered, lived , he had done the opposite. The suspended purple crystal and the always flourishing chrysanthemum shoving this fact into his face every time he allowed himself to look at them.

He almost welcomed the sound, something to occupy his mind and for a moment he expected a curse or at least a sigh to follow it. He had figured it must have come from his father knocking something over in the kitchen. Teasing his dad about it would give him something to do other than sitting around and watching the flames.

He had always hated dormancy, even though the only thing he seemed to be doing the last year was being idle. Stagnant.

But no further sound came from the kitchen, it left only one other source.

Slowly he limped his way over to the thick, wooden doors, his stride - step, drag, repeat - essentially silent on the rugs he had played on as a child. In the right light, he could almost see his younger self chasing his little brother around and stumbling over the raised edges. His brown wings, as much a steady companion as his twin, showed his uneasiness, hiding behind his back. Dread was rising in his stomach, making him nauseous. Talking to others was getting harder and harder with every interaction.

He sighed quietly, his chest rattling with a deep breath. He had been good at talking once.

~*~

“Power isn't gained from diplomacy and bureaucracy, and giant courthouses suspended in the sky,” His voice was sure, smooth, confidence oozing from his words, wings spread wide, “It's gained from swords, Quackity; it's gained from blades, it's gained from steel, iron.”

~*~

Stilling in front of the door he thought about who could be outside, there weren’t many faces that still showed themselves in these parts. As a child he had hated how far away the house was from any other kind of civilization, now he enjoyed the quiet, as unnatural as it still seemed.

His old friend, family at this point, would look at him with pity in her eyes, trying to empathize with his regrets. Her own woes were being pushed away, always prioritizing others over herself. The little ram, looking more and more like his old friend - enemy - would be far worse. The grief and resentment making them both cruel and callous. Their talks, few and far between as they were nowadays, ending in an even deeper chasm between them. To think they were as close as family once. The enderman hybrid, an outsider, had no real connection to his past. He didn’t see what sins he committed. Maybe the child’s naivete was why his twin had taken a liking to that one. He was sure the bright eyes and big smile reminded his twin of their younger brother. The fox would break him, even more than he already was. Someone who used to look at him like he hung the stars in the sky once, now glaring at him with the same disgust he felt for himself. Anyone else, just a speck of dark grey on his periphery.

Even though he was almost ready to call for his father to let him handle the visitor he started leaning on the cumbersome door handle, a leftover remnant from the time he was still a child.

Heavy doors kept children inside. At least that had been his father’s plan, once upon a time. It had never worked when he was small. It worked now, ever-present fatigue making him feel weak and useless. A burden more than anything, no matter what his family told him.

With a deep sigh, one he wanted to join, the door opened up to the cold air of the plains and trees that surrounded the house. The spruce trees were covered in snow with no color showing through the frost. The porch had been taken over by snow again, it coming up to his knee. The need for an awning was something he would have to bring up with the rest of the house. The cold pressed deep into his lungs. In between the piles of white was a flash of red, an odd sight in this color scheme. For the first time in months, his eyes focused on a set point.

“Tommy ?” The name was like a prayer on his lips.

[chaoscrawls]

@phantasmaw continued from [here]

〈 ♕ * 〉 ┊  A shiver runs down the prince’s spine as ebony teeth brush against prickling skin. How traitorous his mind is, to conjure up sensations that prey on his yearning for something aside his own company. His body, though, is even more traitorous, with how it leans in, unbidden, to chase the infinitesimal contact. The frown on his lips deepens.       “On my mind…” he repeats, a whisper almost lost to the crackling of the fire in the hearth across the room– fire that does nothing to stave off the chill that’s been draped over his shoulders ever since he had acknowledged this most insistent hallucination. A humorless chuckle falls from his lips. “Wouldn’t you already know?” 

      With this, he turns in his chair to fully face the apparition. Long lashes hang low over half-closed eyes, giving off a sleepy, perhaps even bored countenance. But inside Visal’s chest, his heart trips and falls somewhere down into the very dredges of his ribcage. What a monstrous thing. All dark coils and smoky edges, he’s not entirely sure where they begin and where the smudged shadows of the study end. His gaze flicks up towards the the twin flames of violet sitting far back in the skull’s eye sockets. Once long ago, during the earliest days following his conception, an elder of the Qwythaerian courts had told him stories about the long-lost sun. Her words had painted a vivid picture of a light so bright it would burn its image into the eyes of whoever looked directly into it. At the time, he hadn’t understood. After all, he had nothing to draw comparison to in this dying world swaddled by eternal dusk. But now? Now he thinks, as he stares into the violet light, he might finally understand what that long-dead elder was talking about. 

       The longer he stares, the more his eyes sting. The corners of his vision waver. Another voice murmurs urgently into his ear, begging the chimerical prince to be cautious and clever. His jaw tightens.“I won’t believe a word of it. I can’t believe a word of it.” Visal sets the pen down on the now-forgotten diagram he had been in the middle of inking in. He pushes the chair back, stands, and steps forward. Just one step, and it’s still far closer than he’s ever willingly gotten to the being. He redirects his heavy-lidded gaze to the creature’s row of teeth. “…How about this, then. I’ll tell you something, you tell me something. Anything. Frankly, I’m tired of what I already know.”

Well, well, well weren't they being thoroughly spoilt tonight. Not only was the prince speaking to the god, but now they were getting full-on acknowledgement, with eye contact! Even the usual fight he had in him seemed to be dwindling. It amused the entity greatly.

"Ah, you humour me."

If their skull had allowed them to smile, they would have been positively beaming, instead those glowing orbs scrunched up into crescents, showing their companion just how pleased they were at this turn of events.

"Alright, tell me one of your secrets and in return, I will tell you one of my own. It is a good, fair trade."

With the man now closer than he had ever been before the creature finds themselves gravitating towards him, their clawed hands reaching out to cup his cheek. Instead of a kind gesture though it comes off much more alarming. Their flesh not meeting his own but their claws curling around him like harsh bars on a cage.

"In fact, if you tell me something I deem interesting I shall tell you a story, doesn't that sweeten things?"

[thebrownssociety]

The Coyote Bites The Dust

Hey! My name's Roxy Goth, this idea came to me when I read a WMG on Wile.E and The Roadrunners Tv Tropes page. I thought it was a brilliant WMG and wanted to make a fanfic about it. So for anyone who's read my other LT story's - this does NOT take place in that universe. Wile.E and Roadrunner are not twins in this fic.

Hope you enjoy. I do not own any Looney Tunes whatsoever.

The coyote was waiting behind a rock clutching an ACME rocket-launcher. As indicated by the name, when activated the rocket should launch out of the package and head straight towards the nearest heat-emitting thing is senses. In this case the roadrunner.

The coyote grinned as he saw the familiar blur of dust in the distance. Perfect timing, he thought as his stomach growled horribly. Perfect timing...

He knelt down and lit the fuse that was sticking out the package ad had a note on it saying 'Keep Dry!'. Once he'd done that he took hold of the steering wheel that was attached to a rope coming out the package and waited.

Exactly two seconds later the rocket launched into action and the coyote thanked ACME it worked. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel - fingers being looped through the specially designed holes put in it for stability - and licked his lips as he saw the blue bird in his sights. He angled the rocket downwards so he was just above the roadrunner and reached out a hand.

Well. He tried to reach out a hand.

With a terrible sinking feeling, the coyote realised his fingers were stuck in the holes in the steering wheel and he couldn't pull them out. He tried, managing to flip himself up so he had his feet on the wheel and tried to pull himself free, but to no avail. He felt two of his fingers crack and his eyes went wide with pain, a shudder running through his whole body. By now he'd missed the Roadrunner, who had stopped at the edge of the cliff and was looking ahead of him with interest.

With a growing feeling of dread the coyote looked to where the roadrunner was staring, only to see a cliff face. The coyote tried to scream but no sounds would come, so he settled for desperately trying to rip himself free. He felt his wrists break at the exact same moment he hit the cliff and all went black.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Roadrunner watched the rocket explode and the body hit the floor with the detachment of a soldier. He sighed. Another one hit the dust, almost literally he reflected, seeing the dust cloud coming from the desert sands.

He sped over to the rocket, wincing when he saw the coyote's arms and legs sticking out from under it. No way he'd survived that, but he needed to check and so he carefully pushed the rocket to the side to examine the coyote better. Roadie had to steady himself. Even for him this was bad, the coyote was black as lava and dead as a doornail, and unlike normal toons this couldn't simply be washed off so the toon could carry on.

With a small shake of his head, Roadie knelt down and took a ACME Pulse Oximetre out his hammerspace, attaching it with practiced efficiency to the coyote even though he knew he was already dead. Once it was confirmed Roadie quickly buried the coyote and stuck a ACME headstone just behind the body to mark the spot. It'd be fine, the grave-stones were water-activated and this being a desert there was no water. The only way these were getting activated is if the boss decided to activate them and Roadie couldn't see that happening.

Talking of which, Roadie quickly note down the date, time and invention before heading back. It wasn't long until the soft sands of the desert gave way to the tarmacs of ToonTown. Technically he wasn't meant to run on the roads, but the ToonTown police couldn't catch him anyway, so why bother? As Roadie got closer to the centre of ToonTown he saw the glowing neon sign saying 'ACME' on it and skidded to a stop.

With one swoop he clocked in and swanned down the corridor towards the boss's office. A few other toons saw him and whispered to each other.

'That's Roadrunner, I love him, he's great in the shorts.'

'How much do you think he eats to run that fast?'

'You know he's the boss's right-hand man?"

'Annoy Roadrunner, and suddenly you find yourself fired.'

Roadie bit back a chuckle. He loved the rumours that had been created about him and Wile.E. Talking of-

He got to the boss's door and knocked in a certain pattern that was unique to him and the boss.

"One moment!"

Roadie waited and two seconds later the door was opened by a disappointed looking Wile.E. "That was quick." He said, bluntly.

Roadie smiled. "What can I say? It was a horrible display. The coyote couldn't get his hands out the rocket, so he hit the bucket."

Wile.E groaned and stepped aside, allowing Roadie to come in. "What was wrong with it this time?"

"He couldn't get his fingers out the holes."

"You're kidding me."

"Unfortunately not, it wasn't pretty."

"I can imagine. Let's look at the footage."

So look at the footage they did, with Wile.E making notes and pausing it at times to zoom in and examine things closer.

"That's ridiculous." Wile.E said, once he'd paused it on the image of the coyote flying above the roadrunner and zoomed in. "There's no way that should trap his fingers like that. Roadie, can you pass me the dud?"

The 'dud' was a rocket without a fuse. Made primarily to work on the build of the rocket and handy for moments like this. Wile.E donned a lab-coat and a pair of glasses and looped his fingers through the holes in the same way the coyote had. He tried to remove them and found - not surprisingly - that he couldn't. It didn't take a genius to work out why. "Note to self." He muttered. "Drill bigger holes. This thing is meant to be going out everywhere, if my skinny fingers can't fit through it how can someone like Bugs's?"

Reconising a rhetorical question when he heard one, Roadie patiently waited for instructions. Sure enough...

"Roadie, can you help me out of this thing, please? I actually can't get it off."

Giving a laugh, the bird stepped forward and helped Wile.E remove the rocket. Once it was off he carefully placed it back where he came from before getting a first-aid kit for treating Wile.E's heavily bruised knuckles.

While he was treating them his counterpart sighed. "At least we've got another episode for Warner Bros." He said, glumly.

"Hey." Roadie said. "Trust me, bro, I know how it goes. We'll figure this out, have no doubt, cos you're a genius that much is obvious and if anyone can do it I know it's you."

Wile.E gave a soft smile. "Thanks bro. Means a lot." He cradled his head in his hands. "Better get ready for tomorrow. Here-" The coyote reached into his hammerspace and pulled out a small square. "Can you start at 11 tomorrow? We may need a bit of time to get the flame thrower out."

Roadie nodded. "No issue, anything you want me to review?"

"The flames need to go forward even when the person is travelling at speed. It's hopefully going to be used in some Warner Bro shorts, so it needs to work quickly and be able to be turned of easily. And obviously no singeing the person completely."

"And what do I do if he sets me on fire?"

"Race back here and shower. He'll never catch you, so you'll be safe. Then take the rest of the day off and we'll worry about the incident the next day."

Roadie nodded.

"Here." Wile.E reached into his hammerspace and pulled out a cheque. "This is your bonus. Can't believe you tested the product in 3 hours instead of 4. Congratulations." He said, warmly.

Roadie laughed. He saw the 4-hour limit as a challenge and delighted in beating it, and tomorrow he'd get to do it again.

With a smile Roadie excused himself and left, eager to start the next day.

[casspurrjoybell-24]

My Unwanted Mate - Chapter 14 - Part 4

*Warning Adult Content*

Nathan Briar

Tatum kneeled in front of me, his hands gentle as he replaced my bandage that had gotten wet from my shower.

I could feel the healing skin pulling even as I stood still.

My twin was quiet.

He barely spoke to me and I did not know what I could say to make him understand, to make him forgive me.

So, I stayed just as quiet.

He can hate me all he wants.

I will not apologize for doing it, I will never regret it.

"I want to speak to Calvin."

Tatum's head jerked up, his hands freezing in their task.

"Why?"

"Why not?" I challenged.

Tatum did not know.

I never told him about seeing our mate.

He did not know about how the male had pleaded on his knees, how he submitted and begged for a way to make it up to us.

At the time I had thought they were impossible tasks for the male to complete.

I wanted to hate him forever, so I gave him something I thought he would never be able to see through.

Tatum watched me with questioning eyes before shaking his head.

"You can't. The council is holding him in the Surez pack jail."

"You can take me there."

"No."

My twin shook his head, laying down the last piece of medical tape.

"You don't have to keep me safe anymore," the words were harsher than I intended but I could not help it.

It was hard to forget the words he had spoken, muffled by the locked door between us.

I had never felt the need to guard myself against my twin.

He was always my safe place or he had been.

I did not feel safe anywhere anymore.

Tatum stood up from the floor, his eyes shifty again.

He looked ready to cry and I immediately felt bad.

"Sorry."

I ran my hand over my freshly bandaged stomach.

The pain was a good enough distraction.

It was better than watching how he fought back tears my words had caused.

"They're not just discussing Calvin's punishment, they don't know what to do with us. Our pack is without Alpha or heir."

Tatum folded up the towel I had used.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

The new room smelt like a lemon-scented cleaner.

It was smaller than the one we had shared with Alpha Malore.

Just a bed and a wooden dresser pushed under the window.

I liked it.

The Alpha's scent was not here.

There was no walk-in closet.

"I want to see Calvin."

Tatum scoffed, tossing the towel on the floor.

"Why? Why do you want to see him?"

His blue eyes pinned me in place, trying to find his answer on my blank face.

I turned away from him, looking out the window at the cloudless sky.

"When did we start keeping things from each other?" his voice cracked but I did not look at him.

He sighed in defeat, the bedroom door shutting softly behind him.

It was worse than if he had slammed it.

His anger would have been easier to swallow.

Instead, he walked around me as if I would break apart at any moment.

He pities me but I know he hates me for what I did too.

He would hate me more if he knew I would do it again in a heartbeat.

If he knew I didn't regret doing it but regretted not doing it sooner.

********

"Your Daddy is trying to get them to give you back to us, so you can come home."

Momma looked hopeful, a small smile on her lips.

It fell away when I pushed her hand away and stood to move across the room.

I kept my back turned to the others in the room, my hands gripping the edge of the dresser as I stared unseeingly out of the window.

She was out of her fucking mind if she thought I would go back to my birth pack.

If I would go back with them.

I did not want to be another kept Omega again.

I wanted freedom.

I thought Tatum and I would have that with Alpha Malore dead.

I was wrong but I would not stop fighting for it, not now, not after everything.

"Why does he want us? Does he plan on selling us to another Alpha?"

It was a valid question.

At least I thought so.

"Well, I'm not worth shit anymore," I laughed but my family did not see the humor in it.

I turned around to face them again, leaning back against the dresser with my arms crossed over my chest.

Tatum sat quietly on the edge of the bed with his eyes glued to the floor.

Our Momma sat close to Tatum, our older brother stood alone in the middle of the room.

Mathais looked uncomfortable.

He had not been there when our father had Malore take us.

I wondered what our older brother would have done.

Would he have stopped it?

Or was he just another weak Alpha?

"That won't happen," Momma rushed to say.

"Like you could stop him if he did," I laughed again, this time bitterly.

"What was it he got the first time? How much were his twin Omegas worth?"

Momma looked away from me.

She could not even handle the truth of my words.

"You stayed with a male who sold your pups."

"Nathan," Tatum stood up, eyes pleading with me.

"What? It's the truth."

"They're mates."

"Yeah and ours rejected us for less."

Tatum had nothing to say to that.

He dropped back onto the bed in defeat.

"You would rather become a rogue than come home?" Mathais spoke up for the first time.

"Calvin refused to take Malore's title as Alpha, he would rather be judged. With no Alpha or heir, the pack is going to be disbanded."

"Yes," I said, raising my chin defiantly.

There was more freedom in being a Rogue than a pack Omega.

"Don't pretend to care now. Neither of you tried to even reach out to either of us. We... we spent two whole years with that monster of a male. Two years with no one for comfort but each other."

Our Momma started crying then and Tatum followed her silently, tears running down his cheeks.

"I am sorry for that, Nathan," Mathais met my eyes, forcing me to see his sincerity even though I wanted to ignore it for guilt.

"If you're truly sorry, take me to see Calvin."

[buzzcharacters]

Whiskey - Thistle in the Weeds

Non-Binary (they/them) - 86 moons - Pansexual - Taken

Massive and impassive, Whiskey is hardly the picture of friendliness. They have the blood of numerous cats on their claws, and show no signs of slowing down. They were raised in the tough life of a feral gang of cats, and after the untimely death of all of their family, has sworn revenge on the cat responsible. Through their partner Alexander (who they love just as much as they loathe), they have gained another group of enemies in the Swamp Clan Cats. They will not rest until both the Clan and Klaus' gang are wiped out.

Personality

stoic, unpredictable, cold, driven, combat-oriented, scrappy, loyal

More than once in their lifetime, Whiskey has been likened to a mountain. Not just in stature, but in expression. The large tabby takes inexpressiveness to a whole new level, a look of resting neutrality often all that dawns their face. It’s not just that, they’re as cold as a mountain’s peak, too. Where anger may make others hot and fiery, Whiskey simply simmers, rarely raising their voice and instead looking down on those who would lose their cool over something as simple as words. Their words can be frigid, and one might catch frostbite by wounds inflicted by his claws. Of course, no one is simply one thing at all times. Whiskey’s anger can be unpredictable if pushed to the edge. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes that coldness in them shifts into that cold feeling just before you’re burnt alive, before your body can process the extreme temperature it’s facing. Whiskey can explode if their limit is found, and if you’re on the wrong side of such an event, watch out. You’ll be lucky to escape with your life. If Whiskey wants you dead, oftentimes you don’t make it off the block before they’ve found you. Luckily, their attention seems to be currently occupied… though for how long that’ll last is another unpredictability. Whiskey is incredibly combat oriented. They leave the talking to Alexander, and instead prefers their actions speak for them. Talking never does them any good, anyway - their meaning never manages to come across well in their tone. No – Whiskey would sooner have you bloodied on the ground than a posturing of wits and words. They’re incredibly scrappy in a fight, too, relying on many different styles and varying levels of ‘nobility’ in their strikes. Whiskey isn’t afraid to use an underhanded tactic or two to make sure their point is made, and their opponent won’t be able or willing to make the mistake of attacking them twice. Much like their partner, Whiskey is seeking revenge for a perceived wrongdoing. While they themself have no real issue with the Clans, Klaus and his gang is high on Whiskey’s hit list. Their need for vengeance doesn’t quite blind them, but Whiskey tends to be more likely to run hot-tempered when Klaus’s bloodline is in their sights. When their group was disbanded due to the claws of Elias, Whiskey vowed they’d see the end of that particular branch of the family tree, something they still intend on seeing out. While you might not think it, Whiskey tends to be quite loyal after you’ve gotten them on your side. It takes a lot to get to that point, don’t get me wrong, but once you’ve managed to worm your way into their stony heart, you have an attack dog on retainer. There aren’t many on the list, but Whiskey does have cats they’re willing to die for, Alexander and Gem among them. And if you hurt them… Well. You better start running.

Family

Father - Pascal - Deceased Mother - Anila - Deceased Twin Brother - Rye - Deceased

Partner - Alexander - Played by Uchuuji Daughter - Gem - Played by Rumor

Timeline

0 MOONS: Born to Anila and Pascal alongside a twin brother. Pascal, leader of a gang of cats taking residence in the city, welcomes this fortune and claims that they will be strong additions to their ranks.

2 MOONS: The twins are often together more by circumstance than by choice. They’re difficult to distinguish, and cats take to calling the two of them “Whiskey ‘n Rye”. Whiskey hates this, mourning the loss of individuality.

4 MOONS: Combat training begins with a boom, the two of them thrown into relatively simple scraps and told to figure it out. Whiskey excels, while Rye begins to fall behind. A bitter rivalry begins to form between them.

7 MOONS: The rivalry is only made worse when Pascal begins favouring Whiskey to Rye, noticing the former’s progression. Whiskey preens at the praise and attention from their father, while Rye simmers and gets in more fights to prove that he can be strong too.

8 MOONS: Whiskey and Rye begin getting into physical fights - often caused by Rye baiting Whiskey to attack. While the injuries are never severe, there are injuries, and it’s enough for them to be separated. Whiskey celebrates this as a reward, and they begin to see their brother less.

11 MOONS: As Pascal attempts to expand the borders of their gang’s turf, it brings them into conflict with a few other gangs of cats. The most notable being Elias’ gang. Suddenly, there are a lot more battles and skirmishes taking place within the city, and Whiskey proves their usefulness with their inability to back down, even after receiving injury after injury. They claim they don’t feel the pain when questioned.

13 MOONS: By pure (bad) luck, Whiskey and Rye are patrolling the same area of territory when they’re ambushed by some of Elias’ cats. Whiskey dispatches their attackers easily, but not before Rye is severely wounded. Whiskey, seeing this as an opportunity, slits Rye’s throat, claiming that they’re putting him out of his misery. The gang is heartbroken when they return home, and Pascal vows revenge on Elias.

17 MOONS: With both gangs growing and expanding, more careful planning is put into place among Pascal’s cats. He refuses to lose any of his own offspring, and promises to do the same for his gang’s members. Whiskey, who cares little for anything except for the praise from their father, soaks this mindset in. It’s Elias’ fault that they are losing cats. So Elias must be dealt with.

25 MOONS: Pascal loses his sister during another battle with Elias’ cats. This seems to be the last straw, and Pascal appoints Whiskey as his chief executor, directing them to kill any of Elias’ cats they come across as they expand their borders.

28 MOONS: Intending on claiming the park, Whiskey takes two other cats from their gang and sets out. When they arrive, it’s apparent that Elias posted guards on the park, but that is of little consequence to Whiskey, and the two groups engage in battle. It’s hardly much of one, though. Whiskey leaves the larger of their companions to deal with the larger of these two (Klaus), while they aid the smaller of their own cats to take out the other (Challe). It’s not long, though, before Klaus puts himself in between Whiskey and his brother. However, the battle is hardly much of one. The attack that had been intended for Challe instead scores Klaus’ pelt, and Whiskey dispatches the larger cat easily, pressing his skull into the pavement before turning on Challe. The other cat they’d brought similarly wounds the smaller brother, but he manages to slip from their grasp and pelt away. Whiskey wants to follow, but their companion insists they return to Pascal… so they begrudgingly agree.

30-39 MOONS: Things continue like this between the groups for a while. The two cats that Whiskey had taken to claim the park are found dead, making Whiskey realize that their job wasn’t as finished as they’d thought. They keep an eye out for one of the two cats, but never come across them.

40 MOONS: Everything comes to a head, and Elias’ group fully clashes with Pascal’s group for the final time. It seems that Pascal had underestimated the size of Elias’ gang, and Whiskey’s group is very quickly overwhelmed by sheer number. Cats begin falling like flies, and Whiskey takes the brunt of an attack from a cat almost twice his size. Moments before he’s knocked unconscious, they see the pelt of a cat they’re sure they killed and realizes that Klaus is Elias’ son. They can’t process much more of the information before the entire world goes black.

When they awaken, their entire family is dead. It seems that they’d been thought to be the same - unsurprising with the amount of blood covering their body from wounds they can’t feel. Whiskey turns faces and closes eyes of cats they’ve known for their entire life. When they get to their father… they vow that they will be the wrecking ball that takes out Elias and the rest of his bloodline.

43 MOONS: They wander for a long time, unsure of what their place is, now. They’d only ever followed commands given to them, taken out threats and defended Pascal’s land. Now though… now it’s just them, and they’re uncertain. It’s maybe fate, or maybe just rotten luck, that they happen upon a cat getting the shit beat out of him by a large group of cats. Likening it to the way their gang was outnumbered, Whiskey sees red and erupts into the group, defending this stranger and fighting off the cats who stink of swamp and garbage.

Neither of them tell the story the same way - but one thing they both remember clearly is how, when the last of those Clan cats were gone, Alexander smiled up at Whiskey and Whiskey, despite themself, stayed.

44 - 80 MOONS: Whiskey isn’t sure why they stick around with Alexander. The two of them fight constantly, diametrically opposed in most ways. Alexander enjoys poking and prodding, seeing how far he can go until Whiskey snaps. And Whiskey is not above using force and their size advantage to cow Alexander until he stops. More than once, after a verbal fight has turned to a physical spar, Alexander leaves and vows never to return. And, every time, Alexander returns, and Whiskey welcomes him back.

Despite their differences, Whiskey isn’t too big to admit that they work well together. Alexander has the charm and social graces that Whiskey lacks. Whiskey can back up any threat made with muscle - even though Alexander can hold his own, it’s clear that Whiskey is brawnier than he is.

They both, also, had a directive. Whiskey intended on ending Klaus’ bloodline, one way or another, and Alexander wanted to pay revenge to the Clan cats who had wiped out his own group of cats. Whiskey could respect that, and so long as his own goal wasn’t pushed away for the rest of his life, he saw no harm in helping Alexander take vengeance for the destruction of his family.

The thing is… Whiskey had never. Liked. A cat. It was difficult for them to identify such a feeling - all they'd ever had to do was focus on being the best, so they remained in their father’s sights and continued receiving praise. Now that need is gone. They had met cats during their stint of time alone, sure, but there had never been. Love. There had been passion, sure whatever, but they’d never really wanted to stick around.

And, similarly, it takes a long time for that warm feeling to bubble up in their chest regarding Alexander, too. But bubble up it does. Alexander stops being just a partner, and becomes someone that Whiskey would lay down his life for, if it meant that Alexander would keep on living.

Whiskey doesn’t fold easily, though. They are unwilling to make a fool out of themself, and Alexander had always spoken familiarly about them, even before they’d started working together. They have to be sure feelings are reciprocated before they put themself out there - and even then they wait a little longer. It comes to a head when Alexander makes a smart comment about Whiskey’s lack of ‘game’, and Whiskey turns it back around on the pretty ginger tabby.

They suppose that’s when they became ‘official’. Though not much changed, not really. They still had their moments, but those moments were peppered between nights wrapped around each other as they slept. Whiskey knew, deep down, that what they had probably wasn’t the healthiest. When Alexander would take absences after a fight, Whiskey would pace. Whiskey would get into fights with any passing stranger. And then Alexander would return, and things would fall back into normalcy.

It wasn’t healthy. But damn if Whiskey didn’t love this cat as much as they were capable of the feeling.

81 MOONS: Parenthood happens suddenly. Whiskey was just doing what they’d always done, following Alexander as he prattled on about their next score - some old human who handed out tuna like it was going out of style - when they took a wrong turn and ended up facing a box. A box with a kitten in it. Now, Whiskey had no illusions about being a good parent, nor did he think Alexander would be either. But… well. You try to stay neutral when staring down those big eyes, looking half starved and pathetic. Whiskey said nothing as Alexander picked up the kitten and they ended up taking her back to their home.

At first, the plan was to dump her off with the nearest parental-looking animal they could find. But… well what if Whiskey taught her how to defend herself first? And what if Alexander showed her the best way to score food from a soft-hearted human? And what if, what if, what if,

Gem didn’t end up going anywhere. And Whiskey couldn’t find it in themself to be upset about it.

Extras

Whiskey is a Thistle in the Weeds Site Adopt with the purpose of stirring up trouble with both the rogues occupying ThunderClan, and ShadowClan, alongside their partner and daughter.

Whiskey's perk (a boon system used by Thistle in the Weeds) is as follows: The Dreadful Maybe it's the look in their eyes or the power in their claws, but Whiskey strikes fear into the hearts of those who interact with them -- predator and cat alike. Everyone in their presence, who they do not share a strong bond with, receives a -1 penalty to all stats, including Staff NPC accounts.

Other Iterations

N/A

[cleoenfaserum]

Dead Ringers

Season 1 Episode 3 Recap & Review

Video of S1E3 not available.

Pushed to the Brink

LISTEN or READ or LISTEN&READ

When Beverly and Genevieve are asleep in bed together, episode 3 of Dead Ringers sees Elliot come in and whisper to Beverly, asking what Genevieve’s like.

We then see something that looks like a small pink embryo growing into a foetus. Elliot looks at something through a microscope and curses out loud.

Tom and Elliot arrive at the party for the opening of their clinic and Tom realises she’s on edge. It’s the opening of the twins’ clinic and everyone is there including Rebecca and Susan.

While they have drugs, Elliot remarks to Genevieve that her relationship with Beverly is going well.Later, Elliot keeps eyeing the couple while Tom speaks to Joseph. Joseph feels that Tom’s work with the clinic should be kept quiet because of his unemployability.

While Beverly’s brushing her teeth, Elliot asks Beverly if she wants something new (she means someone new). She then says Beverly hasn’t really had Genevieve until Elliot’s had her too.

At their glossy new clinic, Joseph tells Beverly she has guests booked for the whole day. The board and trustees will be watching them for a few days, so he tells the Mantles to keep that in mind.

Elliot mans the embryology research floor while Rebecca watches. Beverly does a c-section for a woman while an audience watches. Both, research and birthing work goes on. Elliot introduces the menopause delaying surgery that she will be conducting on a 24-year-old girl. One of the audience, a middle aged woman, asks if a 20-year-old’s tissue can be put into her. That’s exactly the kind of idea Elliot wants to explore.

One of Beverly’s patients suffers yet another miscarriage. While going to take a break, a staff member throws a bucket of blood on Beverly accusing her of working with a murderer. She goes to have a smoke anyway. Later, Rebecca talks about this group of people that keeps attacking any organisation attached to the Parker name. Beverly’s not happy about the incident but Rebecca believes there’s not much moral difference between those people and herself. Everyone plays their role in the system.

On their own, Beverly admits to Elliot that she’s struggling. Beverly’s patient from earlier is there and she introduces Elliot to her. When she mentions Elliot’s research, the woman offers up herself for research on miscarriage.

Beverly finds one of her patients, Zhu Ye, on the floor, in pain. She refuses to get on the bed or let Beverly near to check the baby’s heart. Beverly gives her the gel and apparatus and stands looking the other way. She instructs the woman on how to use the instrument and find the heartbeat.

While the twins get ready, Elliot says she wants them to go out to celebrate together but Beverly has a thing with Genevieve. When she agrees she’s shit at parties, Elliot offers to go as her. They swap places and Elliot makes Beverly seem friendly and witty. They even get into an argument about what ‘Elliot’ thinks about Genevieve. Genevieve arrives and automatically reaches for the real Beverly, which makes her friends laugh as they think it’s the other way around. She catches on and later tells Elliot not to ambush her with this swapping. The twins then have to go deliver a baby and Elliot’s annoyed that Genevieve is accompanying them.

While Beverly guides Zhu Ye into giving birth without them touching her, Genevieve watches from outside. Elliot watches Beverly with Genevieve again. Later, the couple go to Genevieve’s place where Beverly sees Sammy, who Genevieve calls her baby brother. He comes over when he’s had his heart broken. After they have sex, Genevieve tells Beverly they should have a baby. Later, Sammy tells Genevieve she looks happy.

At home, Greta makes Elliot some food and then packs a bag for Beverly. Apparently, Genevieve called her and has a surprise planned for Beverly. Elliot empties the bag out in anger.

Elliot calls Beverly and pretends to be empathetic about her needs. She asks Beverly about trying for another baby but Beverly doesn’t want to do it like that anymore. When Elliot suggests they spend the weekend figuring it out, Beverly says she can’t.

Beverly finds Genevieve’s surprise really sweet but worries about Elliot as they’ve never been in different cities. Genevieve tries to make Elliot understand and draws a strict boundary with her when she keeps acting out. Elliot tells Beverly not to go but she does anyway.

At the research centre, Elliot takes out her anger on an employee who’s speaking with Tom. She takes Tom, blindfolded, into a dark room and tells him to produce semen. She then puts his sperm into Beverly’s eggs. She hooks up with a man at a club and then brings everyone to her apartment for a party. She tries having sex with him in Beverly’s room but it doesn’t do it for her and she resorts to drinking and doing drugs.

When she starts throwing out Beverly’s things, a woman nearly gets hit by it on the street. She comes upstairs and begins to break things in the home. Elliot enjoys it and eggs her on. They end up doing drugs together on Elliot’s balcony. The woman disses them for being bad quality. The woman says having a twin means getting half an experience while Elliot insists she gets double.

As the woman keeps taunting Elliot about being nothing without her sister, she pushes her off the edge of her balcony. She runs down to help but can’t find her. She gets back to her apartment, hysterical, and calls Beverly.

Elliot wakes up to find Beverly right there next to her. She says Greta’s made breakfast.

The Episode Review

Dead Ringers delivers a great episode with some stunning visuals of the new birthing centre. Story-wise, the episode takes us through Beverly’s growing feelings for Genevieve and Elliot’s growing frustration about the same thing. The end of the episode is a mark of the transformation with Elliot basically committing murder — a good midway point for the series as well.

A couple of things stand out. Jennifer Ehle does a great job as Rebecca particularly in the scene with her monologue about the activist and the system they live in. Her delivery is brilliant and it has a powerful impact. Another is the scene with the patient Zhu Ye and how Beverly deals with her refusal to be touched and handles her with care. Rachel Weisz continues to give two fantastic performances to the point where I often forget it’s one person.

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[justaself-shipper]

Yandere!Golden Guard x Reader x Yandere! Edric Blight- Golden Psychopathic Lovers

Request by @fLoweRcaSe00 on Wattpad It was a new year at Hexside. Another year of school for Y/N. Clutching her books tightly, her nervous mind fluttered to all the terrible things that could happen on her first day back. She jumped as she felt a hand tap her shoulder. “Hey kitten. Been a while, hasn’t it?” A smooth voice whispered into her ear. Turning around, Y/N lets out a sigh of relief when she realised who it was. “Oh, hi Edric! Has been a while, hasn’t it? About two weeks?” Edric smiled at the H/C girl in front of him, humming in response. As the two chatted, a certain human walked up behind Y/N, covering her eyes. “Guess who?” She giggled. Y/N gasped. “The Grim Reaper! You’ve finally come for me!” The two girls giggled, as Luz removed her hands from her eyes. “Close!” While they interacted, Luz glanced over her shoulder to see Edric glaring darkly at her. A little unnerved, she waves as she gave an awkward smile. “Hey Edric! How’ve you been? C’mon, give me a high-five!” Holding up her hand, she chuckled nervously when Edric refused, simply staring at her with an evil glare. “Don’t leave me hanging??” Y/N took it upon herself to high-five the human. “Ok! Luz and I gotta be getting to class Edric. See you after school?” The green-haired witch finally smiled, his dark attitude disappearing for a moment as he talked to Y/N. “Of course kitten! See you then!” Y/N waved goodbye, grabbing Luz’s hand as they headed to class. Luz felt her face heat up when her witch crush did so. Yes, Y/N was Luz’s crush. She tried covering her face as they walked. This didn’t go unnoticed by the Blight twin, though. Watching them go, he growled to himself. “You won’t get a chance to be with Y/N, Luz. I’ll make sure of that.” Luz and Y/N had just finished their first two classes, and were making their way to the cafeteria. Edric watched them enter, observing how Luz blushed whenever Y/N smiled, or laughed aloud. Eyes narrowing, he felt his sister place a hand on his shoulder. “Hey Ed, you ok? You’re spacing out again.” Smiling at his sister, he replied that he was fine, probably just sick. Emira didn’t really believe him, but let him be. Back with Luz and Y/N, they had sat down with Willow, Gus and Amity. As the gang laughed and chatted, Y/N felt something land in her hair. Another table erupted into laughter as Boscha threw more of her lunch, this time hitting Willow. “Oops, sorry weirdos! Just practising for Grudgby! And you happen to be my target!” Throwing another part of her lunch, Luz huffed angrily. “Didn’t she learn her lesson last time?!” The bell went off, signifying the end of lunch. Sighing, Y/N got up. “I’m just gonna go clean myself up. You guys can just go ahead to class. Willow, do you wanna come with?” Willow nodded shyly, still glancing over to the pink-haired demon witchling. Boscha glared back at her, smirking. Luz stood up as well. “I’ll come too! I can help!” She yelled eagerly. Laughing, Y/N and Willow let her come. After leaving the bathroom, Y/N let Luz and Willow head back to class while she went for her lockers. Upon arriving, Boscha was leaning against it, throwing a rock up and down in one hand. “Heya nerd, thought you needed some company.” She smirked, throwing the rock at the H/C-coloured witch. Y/N lifted her arms for protection, dropping her belongings. Boscha let out a laugh. “Here, let me help you with that-“ “Boscha, Principal Bump wants to talk to you immediately.” The two female witched looked up to see Edric. Y/N was relieved. Boscha scoffed. “What does he want me for? What did I do?” Edric only smiled. “He says it’s important. Now, would you please follow me?” He says kindly, walking away. Boscha shrugs, following the Blight. Y/N picked up the rest of her books, rushing away to her class. “So, what does Bump want me for? And where are we going?” Boscha says. Edric smirked. All was going according to plan. “Just in this room right here.” He says, stopping as he held open a door. Boscha looked inside, scrunching her nose at the smell. “Why this room? And where’s-“ She was cut off as Edric pushed her in. She let out a yelp as she stumbled, catching herself in time as she turned angrily towards the Blight twin. “What the hell?! Who do you thi-“ “Just someone who’s gonna make you pay for hurting my kitten.” Edric smirked darkly, producing a flame in one hand. Boscha gasped, backing up. “Th-that’s not real! You’re an illusionist! It can’t hurt me!” She shrieked. Edric’s smirk didn’t falter, advancing on the witchling he brought it closer to her face. Boscha’s face paled as she felt the heat come closer and closer. “Does it feel like an illusion to you?~” After school was finished, Y/N was on her way back home. She glanced around nervously. Boscha was no where to be seen, but seeing as she’d pretty much harassed her a few hours before…it kinda put her on edge. Watching all the students walk by, she waited patiently for Edric. After seeing he wasn’t coming, she let out a sigh. Maybe he was busy? It didn’t matter. I’ll just head home by myself. Walking along the streets of Bones Marrow, she glanced around at the residents. Busy marketers yelled out their products to passerby’s, while demon and bounty hunters wondered the streets, glaring at anyone stupid enough to get in their way. As she walked by a dark alley way, Y/N felt someone grab her arm roughly, pulling her into the darkness. She tried to scream, but a hand covering her mouth prevented her from doing that. Kicking and screaming into the hand, the monster hauled her away to an unknown location. She tried making a circle in the dirt underneath her, but failed miserably. “Hey!” Someone shouted off to the side, and Y/N only saw a golden mask before the monster holding her let out a grunt of pain, dropping her. Falling on her knees, Y/N scrambled to her feet, facing the monster and her saviour. The monster was lying on the ground, and her saviour was walking over to her. “Are you ok ma’am?” He asked kindly. Y/N immediately knew who he was, bowing down on one knee. “Th-thank you, Golden guard! How can I repay you?” She stuttered. The Golden guard was silent for a while, looking down curiously at the witchling at his feet. Smirking under his mask, he held out his hand. “Well, you can start by calling me Hunter Darl.” He said. Y/N took his hand shakily, blushing a bit at the nickname. “And may I know your name, m’lady?” “I-i’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.” She replied back, feeling a little more comfortable in the mans presence. Hunter looked around for a bit. “You on your way back home? Maybe I could assist you? Make sure you get back safe and sound.” He offered. Y/N nodded her head eagerly, not wanting to be left alone again. The two headed off, leaving the dead body behind them. “Thank you for walking back, Hunter.” Y/N said shyly. The two had just arrived back at the L/N manor, and were about to part ways. Hunter waved his hand about. “No problem. Anything for a cutie like you.” Y/N felt a flush on her cheeks, and she smiled. Leaning forward, she placed a hand on Hunter’s mask. “May I?” After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. Taking off the mask, Y/N gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Nice to finally see my saviour’s face.” She giggled, running off up the steps and inside the house. Hunter felt his heart flutter, his eyes widening in adoration as he watched the female witchling run up the steps and out of view. “So, you helped my kitten get home safely. Well done. You can go now.” Hunter turned to see a green-haired male witch walk out of the shadows, glaring daggers into him. A little taken aback, Hunter smirked at the newcomer. “And you’d be?” “Edric Blight. Now run along Golden guard. You wouldn’t want to become a part of my list.” He smiled maliciously. Hunter wasn’t scared so easily. Walking away, he smirked at the Blight. “See you tomorrow Blight.” Watching the guard go, Edric scowled. Guess there’ll be another body to bury later. The next morning… Y/N walked out of the her home, smiling widely at the boy waiting out front for her. “Edric! I’m so glad you’re here! Where were you last night? I waited outside Hexside for you, but you didn’t show!” Edric placed an arm around the female witchling’s waist. “Sorry kitten, I was…busy.” He said. Y/N blushed a little at the nickname, but kept her composure. “Oh, it’s fine! Just tell me next time, please?” Edric smiled. “Alright kitten." They finally reached school, and Y/N noticed a familiar blonde-haired witchling walking around Hexside, wearing a yellow uniform. He seemed to be glancing around for someone. She started frantically waving her arms, causing Edric to glance at her in concern. “HUNTER! HI!” The blonde witchling looked up, his face brightening as he spotted Y/N. Jogging over, he almost tripped as Y/N hugged him. “I can’t believe you’re here! I didn’t know you went to Hexside!” She exclaimed excitedly. Hunter blushed, scratching his neck for a minute. “Yeah uh, I just transferred from Glandus. So how are you this fine day, m’lady?” He questioned, as the H/C pulled away. Hunter glanced up to see Edric glaring at him. Edric leaned forward. “Well, sorry to interrupt kitten, but we gotta head to class-“ he said in the most innocent voice he could muster. Y/N shrugged, looking at the clock in front of the school. “Well, we still have 10 minutes. There’s no need to rush Edric! We have plenty of time!” She said. Before Edric could say anything else, Luz came up to the group. “Hey guys! Y/N! You’ll never guess what I found on my way to school!” She shrieked, jumping up and down in excitement. Y/N tilted her head curiously, walking over to the human. “What is it? A new demon? Ooh! Another hide-out?!” Luz blushed, grinning widely. “It’s a surprise! I’ll show you tonight after school! Meet me here after last period?” She asked. Y/N nodded her head excitedly. “Of course!” The bell went off, and Y/N gasped. “Oh shoot! We gotta go! See you after school Edric! See ya Hunter!” Y/N rushed, grabbing onto Luz’s hand as they ran off to class together. The two boys watched them go, filled with jealousy and hatred. “I see that there’s another rival.” Hunter muttered, and Edric hummed in agreement. Turning to the guard, he eyed him down. “Well, I guess I won’t be able to get rid of you. But maybe together, we can get rid of the human. That way, she won’t get in between us.” Hunter smirked. “Are you proposing we work together to win Y/N’s affection? Instead of against each other?” “Exactly. So?” “You’ve got yourself a deal, friend.” At lunch, Y/N, Luz, Gus, Willow and Amity were sitting together. Hunter came up to their table, glancing around nervously as he carried a notepad and pen. Reaching the table, he tapped Luz on the shoulder. “E-excuse me.” The human turned to him, smiling brightly. “Oh, hi! What can I do for you?” She asked. Hunter almost smiled at her innocent aura, but kept himself under control. “I-uh, I’m doing an assignment on heroic figures, and since you’re the one who saved Eda the Owl lady at the petrification ceremony, i wanted to ask if I could interview you?” He asked nervously, giving a small, hopeful smile to Luz. Luz was thrilled with the idea. “Of course! When would you like to do it!” “W-would right now be too much?” “Of course not!” Standing up, Luz announced that she’d be back soon. Walking out of the cafeteria with Hunter, Edric followed a few minutes later, making sure no one saw as he left.

Y/N was waiting outside of Hexside once again. She sighed, watching all the students once again walk by. Yet, there was no human amongst them. Where was Luz? She said she’d be here! Two pairs of hands landed on Y/N’s shoulders. “What’s wrong kitten?” “You look upset Darl.” Y/N turned to the male witches. “Luz said she was going to show me something, but I guess she forgot all about me.” She said, hurt filling her voice. Edric wrapped a comforting arm around her. “Hey, it’s ok Kitten. If you want, we can show you our special place!” He said. Hunter looped his arm through hers. “Yeah! We found it together! How does that sound?” Y/N smiled gratefully at the two male witches. “Thank you Hunter. Thank you Edric. I would love to see it.” Walking along a forest path, Hunter and Edric kept the directions in mind as they made their way to “their” secret place. “Not far to go kitten.” Edric said. Entering a clearing, Y/N gasped at the sight of a small creek running through a cove. “It’s beautiful! Thank you guys!” She exclaimed, giving both boys a kiss on the cheek. Sitting by the creek, they peered up at the night sky. Edric and Hunter smirked to each other. Luz the human was very helpful. Getting the information out of the human was easy. Disposing of the body was the hard part.

A/N: OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO FREAKING CHEESY AND BAD AT THE SAME TIME I’M SORRY-

[flashflashhundredyarddash]

batkids and their relationships with their siblings headcanons. under read more because this got fucking LONGGG

dick

dick is the eldest so he doesnt want to bog down his younger siblings with his problems, but if he DOES, he tends to talk to jason about it

dick and cass start to really begin to bond when Cass shows up to dicks gymnastics class for 3rd-6th graders and then cass shows up all the sixth graders and they get frozen yogurt after lmao

dick and tim are Very much thick as thieves. tim is very much like bruce on the Emotional Suppression scale, so dick just really wants to make sure his little brother is safe and happy ALL the time

Duke and Damian are the only two really permanently at the manor anymore, so when dick drops by he tries to do something with both of them. duke frantically zoom calls dick every other week to help him with his his trig homework. dick shows up to dukes high school graduation with literally the BIGGEST SIGN

everyone insists damian is dicks favorite but he does actually genuinely love all his siblings equally, his relationship with damian is just Very different from the others because of the age gap and being dami's primary caretaker for a year. dick babies dami every chance he gets

jason

would sell Dick to satan for One corn chip

him and cass don't have the greatest start to their relationship because cass is very much Against Killing so it takes a while for jason to warm up to her and earn her trust. now, though, jason is competing with steph by showing cass all the classic American Teenager things she missed out on. steph is currently winning but jason is like 98% positive a crunch wrap from taco bell is going to push him over the edge

tim and jason are currently competing over who can solve the most cases in a month. tim is winning. that won't last long.

jason Loves to Big Brother duke its so embarrassing. duke will get out of school and go to his car and jason is SITTING IN THE FRONT SEAT FRANTICALLY WAVING TO GET DUKES ATTENTION. JASON THAT IS MY CAR. signal has one (1) mission with arsenal and arsenal goes hey did you ask that girl to homecoming yet and duke is like I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU.

Damian is proof that Actually, Little Brothers are Pests. Jason fully believes that he was brought back from the dead PURELY to torment damian and he will fulfill this mission at any cost

cassandra

it actually really upset her when Dick didn't accept her at first. she knows her other siblings really adore dick so his lack of trust was really disheartening. it takes dick a while but once he Actually Accepts that cass is going to be a permanent part of their life and oh, wow, dick you really hurt her feelings he really hyperfocuses on bonding with cass for a couple of months which definitely improves their relationship

she really likes jason!! their relationship doesn't start well but because he's close with steph and tim who are cass's top two favorite people to exist ever, cass is like well i GUESS ill hang out with him more. jason is fun to talk to because he always tries his best to explain jokes and give context to what people are talking about (also tim took her to taco bell already but she didn't tell jason she just wanted to hang out)

cass LOVES tim. they just click okay. tim always seems to know when to give her space and when to push and come closer. Tim's "guest room" is just her room lets be real. tim and cass occasionally get mistaken for twins and Cass Loves it.

duke makes cass listen to metal once and cass loses. her. damn. mind. they bond over music a lot because they both Love Music to a degree the others in their family don't.

damian!! damian is her little brother!!! dami isn't As Hostile to cass at first because he is 100% aware cass has the edge in fighting and respects her. cass likes all of his instagram posts and they have a snapchat streak going

tim

tim Loves dick, dick was his first sibling!! he had Very strong hero worship when he first met dick but it mellowed out when tim got older because wow 17 is really not that cool and mature lol. tim has an open invitation to dick's apartment which he does occasionally take advantage of. tim has more than once scared the shit out of wally when wally comes over and wally is convinced they're being robbed (HA) for half a second. i mean. he's not wrong.

listen. tim understands that forgiving the guy who tried to kill you would be a Struggle for some people and it was! definitely! but also at least he can trust jason to, uh, be open about if he doesn't like tim. which is not an assurance he has with other people. so if the guy who tried to kill him tells him tim is cool now then like. maybe tim isn't that bad or annoying a person? also jason arrested a whole gang and won the cases competition but then it created a power vacuum that the whole batfam had to clean up the rest of the month. thanks, jason.

tim LOVES cass. you know how most of the time theres this empty feeling inside you and you just kind of ignore it because you don't know what will fix it or if you do, you know you can't fix it? cass makes that empty feeling feel a little less empty. they just click. tim always tries to travel with cass whenever she leaves gotham.

tim and duke. Tim is actually the sibling who duke goes to whenever he has questions he doesn't want to ask bruce or alfred about, like, life or vigilante-ing or school or college or whatever and Tim is always like yes!! i love Giving Advice and Solving Problems!! tim and duke and jason fill out their college applications together.

tim and damian. LMAO. ROUGH START THAT'S ALL ILL SAY. at some point alfred goes like fuck it. family therapy. and tim and dami are PISSED. tim and damian get along best when they have a common enemy to work against. their relationship gets much better when damian is older and they actually talk about their feelings like emotionally stunted bats. despite how bad their relationship was, tim will ALWAYS protect damian

duke

very much intimidated by dick at first. dick is so much older and has his own job and friends and life and is very much AN ADULT. dick likes to take duke out to do lots of cool stuff (paintball, lasertag, tech exhibitions, concerts, etc). also, dick PERSONALLY introduced duke to superman and is dating THE FLASH. 10/10 awesome big brother.

was intimidated by jason for 0.5 seconds before jason actually opened his mouth and started speaking. jason is literally. So Embarrassing. which is weird because nobody else really seems to feel that way about jason but duke knows he's 100% in the right here. like yeah jason is also An Adult and does Adult Stuff but he's also at the manor like every other weekend???? and he always complains about bruce but always seems to be in the same room bruce is in????? like okay jason. they bond over literature!! jason and duke and alfred will spend literal hours talking about books and duke loves it. duke is the only one who doesn't think jason is funny and jason gets so upset about it lmao.

cass has this one week where she gets really into photography and by virtue of being nearby (and also not nocturnal), duke becomes her victim subject. duke prints out all the pictures and hangs them up in his room (his favorite is one he took when he stole the camera and took a really bad selfie of them together).

tim is closest in age to duke so duke tends to hang around with him a lot. tim introduced duke to his young justice friends and duke is like yes!!! meta-friends!!!! tim really helps duke out with his powers because tim is always like wow i wonder if your powers would work if we did This? can you see farther than other people? is your visible spectrum of light different than other humans? Bruce does the same thing but bruce is boring about it lol.

damian and duke live in the same house and will be in the same room and just send each other social media posts back and forth. they follow each other on instagram and will, OCCASIONALLY, make tik toks together because they're tik tok fiends. each of his siblings have visited his parents once or twice but damian routinely comes with him.

damian

damian gets a special bullet point to say that it took him. forever to come around to the idea of having siblings. he very much believed that he was Bruce's Blood Son and everyone else were just tagalongs or allies. it took him ages to acknowledge that dick, jason, tim, and cass were his siblings, so when duke came and like a week later damian was like Ah, Yes, this is my brother Thomas everyone else was like dude wtf

listen. LISTEN. Obviously. Richard is very highly skilled. and also Father values him highly. and also Richard will listen to Damian complain about his schoolmates. and also Richard is much more patient with Damian than other members of his family. listen....,,, (all this to say damian kind of fucking adores dick lmaooooo this kid).

Todd is kind of unbearable but damian has been informed this is both a normal feeling when it comes to Todd and also big brothers. damian was an only child for ten years so yes, Father, if Todd attempts to tickle me I WILL break his fucking nose. yes i WILL put money in the swear jar but I want you to know i don't regret it. they always try to sneak up on each other but mostly fail.

DRAKE!!! but no lol once damian grows up and is like I Apologize for attempting to murder you it was wrong and you are just as much a son to Father as I am tim is like UGH i guess its cool since ur being so emotionally mature and all. also im 2 for 5 on siblings trying to murder me so im definitely going to win trauma bingo and damian is like i take it back you are insufferable. When Will My Older Siblings Stop Joking About Their Trauma.

CASS!!! listen. cass is cool. Cass Gets It. They have a special Bond. also damian really likes it whenever cass is home because 1) he gets to hang out and do something cool with cass and 2) he feels significantly safer with cass in the house because Nobody will be able to hurt any of their family if Cass is there. ALSO he tries to call her cain but everyone is like DONT DO THAT and he doesn't want to call her wayne bcus theyre ALL wayne (dick adds it on as a middle name but also Richard John Wayne West-Grayson is just. the lamest name ever so dick needs to reconsider it before his upcoming nuptials)((dick will not reconsider it except maybe whether grayson-west would work better)) and so he tries cassandra but cass is like :) call me cass and damian is like cassandra is more formal and respectful and cass is like :) and finally damian just has to give in.

Duke! him and duke actually live together so they get the Most Bonding Time and have a bunch of inside jokes as a result. (is it bad i wanted to laugh because inside jokes... joker... i'll see myself out). they're eating breakfast together (and also alfred sits with them IM NOT A MONSTER ALFIE'S LIKE 70 NOW OKAY) and duke laughs and bruce is like what are you laughing at, son? and duke is like oh damian just showed me this funny meme and then he shows the phone to bruce and bruce grabs it (both the boys groan) and after WAY TOO LONG is like "i don't get it" and so now duke and damian have to try and explain the comedic intricacy of bob's burgers

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[the-devils-girl94]

How The Demon Bros React To Hearing That MC Has Been Injured/Wounded?

Obey Me Headcanon

To answer this as a whole, if your injuries were caused by someone....that person is dead. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, that person is in for a brutal beatdown that won't stop until they are no longer in this world. Diavolo would probably be watching it go down with some popcorn and Barbatos serving him some homemade demon lemonade. That's just the reality when you have a bunch of demons who will back you up no matter what. Hell, you probably wouldn't even be injured because before anyone could even put their hands on you, mysteriously, they have already been decimated.

But if it was no one's fault that you ended up injured or wounded badly enough to be cared for and it was a freak accident, then this is how they would react:

Lucifer:

He would feel devastated and blame himself for not being there to save or protect you. He would stay by your side every night as you slept and would bring you everything you need or requested when you were awake. Seeing the extent of your injuries really hurt him to see, and when you slept, he would always place a kiss on your forehead with a sad smile on his face.

Mammon:

Oh he would feel the most guilt out of anyone and it shocks him because he still hasn't come around to confessing his feelings to you. He had always promised you that since he is your first demon to make a pact with, he will always be the one to protect you. The first one to be there to protect you and now you're like this in front of him. It broke his heart. Now he tends to your every need. Still annoying and pushy, but he does his best to tend to your every need and care.

Leviathan:

When he first heard you were in a bad accident, he automatically assumed the worst had happened and locked himself away in his room. Even when he is told that you are fine and just have some bad injuries, he just can't bring himself to get out and go see you. He feared that seeing the extent of your wounds would drive him over the edge of just breaking down and crying from almost losing you. And he wanted to be selfish and not show that side of him.

Satan:

He would be looking for someone to blame. I can't put my finger on why, but something tells me he would. He wants to be angry because it's a combination of sadness, regret, and uneasiness during the first few hours of hearing that you were injured and have not woken up yet. But when there is no one to blame for this travesty, he will find himself in his room on the verge of breaking down with a slim glimmer of hope that you pull through. And when you do, he will be the first one there with flowers, cards, and the desire to never leave your side for the rest of your life. He does not want to go on that rollercoaster of emotions again.

Asmodeus:

Tears will be streaming down his face when he hears the news. He will cry everyday until you wake up, and he will want to stay beside you and tell you everyday how much he loves you. You getting wounded awoke how much he loved you and how much he didn't want to lose you until this tragedy happened. Asmo had always loved you, of course, but his narcissism has always pushed that notion into the back of his head. And now knowing that you could be gone in any instance, due to any circumstance, he really wants you to know how much you really mean to him and he will continue to bombard you with his love even after you are all healed up.

Beelzebub & Belphegor:

These twins will not eat or sleep until they know you will be okay. They are not going to leave your side until you are able to walk out of that bed and do all the things that the three of you used to do. There isn't a single day where you are alone. At least one of them is always by your side until the other joins in and both spend the rest of the day with you. Every single night is a sleepover with all things to keep you comfortable and fed.

[howtosingit]

Fic: The Nightmare That I Call Myself

His t-shirt is sweat-soaked and twisted around him, refusing to allow his chest to fully expand the way he desperately needs it to. He tears away at it, trying to get it off, and a sob climbs up his throat and out of his mouth when it starts to feel hopeless. Finally, after an hour or a day or maybe even a year, it comes off. TK throws it across the room with a yell before he wraps his arms around himself, his fingernails digging into his sides.

He just wants to feel something. 

But that’s not really his problem right now. He’s feeling too much, all at once. It’s a stark contrast from the nightmare that he found himself trapped in moments ago; a nightmare where he felt absolutely nothing. Because he was absolutely nothing. 

Because he was dead. 

+

Or, five times TK wakes up disoriented and confused, and one time he wakes up knowing he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Mature | 5.1K | Also on AO3

A/N: Haven’t written a word in two months, got this idea when I woke up this morning and now here we are, 10 hours later. The muse does what the muse wants. Hope you like it!

------

Someone’s screaming.

TK’s eyes fly open, the red and blue lights from his lamp in the corner adding to the confusion that he’s currently feeling. It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest, and when he closes his eyes again to try to make it all disappear, all he sees is smoke and dust and collapsing buildings on fire.

It’s the same thing he’s been seeing on TV for the past few days, even though his mom changes the channel as quickly as possible whenever he’s in the room.

“TK!”

His eyes open again, finally focusing on his mom as rushes into his bedroom, the sudden lights causing him to blink against their harsh brightness. Before he knows it, there are arms wrapped around him, firm hands on his back, and a soft voice in his ear.

“It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay. You’re okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

That’s when he finally realizes that the screams are coming from his own mouth.

He stops instantly, his throat raw, but he can’t quiet the sob rising in his chest. He buries his face in his mom’s shirt, pressing against her, kind of hoping that he can disappear into her, where he knows he’ll be safe. 

He closes his eyes again, and a new image appears behind his eyelids:

His dad. Covered in dirt and dust and blood, his firefighter’s helmet falling from his head, his eyes dark and empty and so different from their normal blue.

“Dad,” he croaks, his voice weak and full of pain. His heart hammers in his chest, thud thud thud. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?”

“Oh, honey, he’s okay,” his mom says, her fingers running through his hair and scratching his scalp gently, a shiver running through him. It helps to pull him out of his head, the fear disappearing at her touch. “He’s just in the other room, he’s okay.”

“Can I go see him?” he cries, the words getting lost in another sob. She understands him, though, like she always does. She’s his mom, so she always understands him.

“Of course, sweetie,” she says, holding him closer. “Let’s calm down a little bit though, before we go see him. We don’t want to scare him, do we?”

TK shakes his head, following along as she shows him how to breathe deeper. He can still feel his heart pounding in his chest, but it doesn’t feel as heavy now. The elephant has been replaced by something smaller. A gorilla, maybe, or something like that. He gets so distracted thinking about all the different animals that he’s seen at the zoo, that he almost doesn’t notice when a different pair of arms find their way around him. 

He does recognize the smell, though. His dad’s soap has a really special smell.

“Daddy,” he cries, more tears finding their way to his eyes as he pulls his head back to see those familiar blue ones. They aren’t as bright as they were before, but they’re more alive than they were in his nightmare. His dad gives him a small smile, pulling him into his arms and against his chest. 

“I got you, buddy. I got you. I’m right here.”

He focuses on the sound of his dad’s heartbeat, hears the way the soft words rumble through his chest. His mom is still there, too, her own fingers crawling up and down his back. 

Eventually, they all lay back down, his body tucked between the two of them. He reaches out, grabbing on to each of them, pulling them even closer. 

He hears them whispering above him, but their voices sound like they’re at the far end of the big, long tunnel, so he doesn’t really know what they’re saying. He watches the lights from his lamp slowly dance across his ceiling, watches as they catch on the corner of the twin-sized firetruck bed that surrounds them on all sides.

The next morning when he wakes up, he tells his dad that he wants to change his room. There’s a sad look in his eyes, but he just gives him a hug and helps him pack some things away.

-----

Someone’s knocking on the door.

TK lets out a groan, his stomach rolling. Even through his eyelids, he can see that the sun is up and pouring in through his bedroom windows, his mother’s sheer curtains doing little to keep the daylight at bay. The air around him is stale, sweaty, and smells like sex and weed. He scrunches his face, trying to stave off the nausea. 

The knocking gets louder, and that’s when he realizes that it’s not at his bedroom door, but further away. Probably on his mom’s front door. Fuck. He’s going to have to get up and answer it before the neighbors complain. He really doesn’t want to have to deal with his mother when she gets home. 

He throws the thin sheet off of himself, the blast of cool air making him aware of his nakedness. The back of his hand comes in contact with something solid to his left and he opens one eye to see tanned skin covered in various back tattoos under a head of shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. His gaze moves lower to take in the bare ass resting on top of his mother’s 800-thread count sheets, the outline of a handprint barely visible on one cheek. With a disgusted scoff, he pushes himself up to sit at the edge of his bed, the stranger now behind him and out of sight.

He instantly realizes his mistake as his stomach somersaults and he barely has time to notice the empty vodka bottle on his nightstand next to a little bag of white pills before he empties it onto his rug-covered floor.

He’s stumbling naked down the hallway towards the bathroom to stand under the water for the next hour or so when his brain refocuses on the knocking on the door. Now that he’s out of his room, he can hear his phone vibrating incessantly from the pocket of his jeans where they lay on the floor by the couch. He can now also hear a familiar voice yelling through the door to accompany the knocking. 

“TK! I know you’re in there, I tracked your phone,” his dad yells, his knocking turning into an intense pounding. “Open the damn door!”

With a “Calm the fuck down, Dad,” TK stomps towards the door, throwing it open. He can’t help the satisfaction that crawls through him at his dad’s shocked face as he takes him in. TK doesn’t know why he’s so surprised; it’s not like this beats the time his dad accidentally walked in on him having sex with his high school boyfriend a few years ago. 

“Jesus Christ, TK,” his dad huffs, pushing him back into the apartment and slamming the door behind him, obviously trying to maintain some sense of privacy. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

TK doesn’t reply, just stands before him with his eyebrows raised and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well? You gonna say something?”

“What are you doing here, Dad?” TK scoffs, rolling his eyes. He immediately regrets it, as the action causes a sharp pain to flare up behind his eyes. Remembering his previous goal of drowning himself in the shower, he turns to walk back down the hallway. “Mom’s out of town, you don’t have to pretend like you give a fuck about me. There’s no one around to impress.”

“Yeah, I know your mom’s out of town, that’s why I’m here,” his dad says, and TK can tell from the consistent volume of his voice that he’s following him towards the bathroom. “You obviously can’t be trusted by yourself for more than a day.”

“Oh, fuck off,” TK yells, rounding on him. “I’m right here, aren’t I? It’s not like I’ve gone missing and you’ve found me dead in an alley or something.”

His dad glares at him for a moment. Then, with a raise of his eyebrow, he points a finger at TK’s face. “You’ve got some vomit on your chin.”

TK feels a blush crawl up his neck, but before he can say anything, his dad turns towards his room, pushing open the door and walking in like he’s been invited to do so.

“Dad, wait!” 

It’s too late. His dad has already stepped inside, taking in the scene. TK cringes as the smell of vomit hits his nostrils. 

“This a new boyfriend of yours?” his dad asks, gesturing to the naked guy still passed out in his bed. TK says nothing, having no desire to share that he has no idea who the guy is, or that he can’t even remember his name. 

His dad circles around the bed, his hand coming up to cover his nose as he spies the puddle of puke on the floor. 

“You’re paying to have that rug cleaned,” he says, turning towards the large bay window and throwing it open. 

“Where do you get off telling me what to do? This isn’t your house anymore, Dad,” TK spits out, but it comes out with less fire than he had hoped. The smell is really strong here, and the room has started to spin again. He starts backing away towards the bathroom, knowing he’s going to need the toilet in just a minute.

“Not a boyfriend then,” his dad says, ignoring his question. He’s made it over to the TK’s side table, where the evidence of his drug-induced evening sits. He watches as his dad grabs the bag of Oxy, waving it around before pocketing it. “Your mother is going to kill you when she finds out you brought your drug dealer into her house.”

“That’s mine, I paid for that,” TK says weakly, his heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t want to be here right now, he doesn’t want to be anywhere right now. He wants the room to stop spinning, he wants the stranger in his bed - the one he let touch him in ways that make him suddenly feel incredibly unclean - to disappear, and he wants his dad to stop looking at him like he’s regretting the day he was born.

(But hey, TK thinks, the familiar nasty voice in his head taking center stage, at least you finally got his attention.)

His dad is across the room and standing in front of him by the time he mentally checks back into the present moment. Before TK can say another word, he’s shoving a pair of clean boxers into his hands, a look of intense disappointment on his face.

“Take a shower, son. You stink.”

And with that, he steps out of the room, leaving TK to stare at his vomit-soaked carpet, his unwanted hookup, and every other regret he doesn’t have it in him to name.

------

Someone’s pounding on the wall behind his bed.

He comes to with a gasp, lurching forward in his bed. His breathing is out of control and he claws at his chest, trying to get a grip on his lungs, to squeeze them until they burst. It’s not like they’re working correctly anyway, he thinks as he struggles to breathe through an airway that he swears can’t be any wider than a coffee stirrer, so what’s the point of having them at all.

His t-shirt is sweat-soaked and twisted around him, refusing to allow his chest to fully expand the way he desperately needs it to. He tears away at it, trying to get it off, and a sob climbs up his throat and out of his mouth when it starts to feel hopeless. Finally, after an hour or a day or maybe even a year, it comes off. TK throws it across the room with a yell before he wraps his arms around himself, his fingernails digging into his sides.

He just wants to feel something. 

But that’s not really his problem right now. He’s feeling too much, all at once. It’s a stark contrast from the nightmare that he found himself trapped in moments ago; a nightmare where he felt absolutely nothing. Because he was absolutely nothing. 

Because he was dead. 

The image of his prone body on the floor, unmoving, just a mass of useless limbs and wasted potential, flashes through his mind, unbidden. He chokes out another sob, reaching up to fist his hands in his short hair, his nails scratching at his scalp. He recalls a time in his life when his mother would run her fingers through his hair, grounding him with love-laced scratches. How it would settle him, how it would focus him, how it would remind him that he wasn’t alone.

He’s alone now. She’s not here. It’s just him, and the addict screaming and pounding on the wall in the room next door. 

Her face comes to him, the one she wore the last time she saw him, the lines of graceful aging marred by fear and hurt and hopelessness. All for him. All because of him. All because he couldn’t get his shit together. All because he couldn’t handle his cushy, privileged existence, with his middle-to-upper class accepting parents. 

All because he didn’t want to do it anymore. 

Except, he does. He really fucking does. He’s felt that high of life, the one that he can get without the help of pills. He’s loved before, he’s given his all to love, and sure, it didn’t last, but it was good. It was freeing. It was worth it. 

He wants to find that again. Find the people that make it worth it again. Find his purpose. He knows it’s out there, he knows it’s waiting for him to get his shit together. 

He’s twenty years old and he’s nearly killed himself, but he’s not dead yet. He’s not done yet. 

He’s not fucking done yet.

So, yes, he’s here and he’s alone, with only thin walls and an uncomfortable mattress to call his own. But, if this is what he needs, if this is what is going to help him find out where he goes next, then it’s worth it. It’s all going to be worth it. 

He cries himself back to sleep, back into the darkness, back into the moments that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This time, though, as he gives himself over to rest, his lungs expand to fill his entire chest, his airways now clear and fulfilling their purpose, reminding him just how alive he is.

------

Someone’s shouting.

There are a lot of voices, but they all sound muddled and confused. There are hands on him, pressing down hard against his chest, and now that he’s noticed them, he also notices the most intense fucking pain that he’s ever felt in his life, right below his collarbone. It hurts so bad that he wants to scream, he even goes as far as opening his mouth to do so, but he’s not sure if anyone hears him; he’s not even sure he hears himself.

His eyes flutter open when he’s suddenly lifted into the air, the pain spiking to new heights. He sees shadows crawling across his vision, shapes that amount to nothing more than blobs of mass. There are so many of them, and they’re all moving so fast. Too fast for him to really pinpoint. 

“TK!”

Those two letters - the two letters he knows better than any others - swim through the molasses to punch him in the eardrum, and he instinctively looks towards the sound. He finds his father there, his face pinched and sweaty and terrified. It’s a familiar face, one he saw just a few months ago actually, one that he never, ever wanted to see again.

Fuck. Another overdose. 

But even that doesn’t explain the sharp pain in his shoulder. He looks around, trying to figure out his surroundings, trying to make sense of all of this. He’s clean, he knows he is. It’s been hard, but he’s in a better place now. He’s with better people now. He’s truly felt like he’s finding himself, finally, after all of these years.

There’s no way he threw that away. There’s no way.

He forces himself to focus, to figure out what the fuck is going on. He turns to see Captain Blake on his left - well, his left, her right, maybe, he doesn’t know. She’s barking orders, and he follows her arms down to find her hands pressed to his chest. He wants to shout at her, tell her that she doesn’t need to push so hard, that she’s really fucking hurting him, but he can’t speak. Just like his scream before, his voice is trapped inside of him.

He looks up to see Marjan above him, lines of tears running down her face. She doesn’t bother to wipe them away, just lets them fall as her bottom lip trembles. He focuses on it, wants to tell her that it’s going to be okay, wants to reach out and rub her shoulder gently. But, as hard as he tries, he can’t seem to do that either. 

He’s stuck in a world where he can’t do a single damn thing.

Suddenly, the blurry ceiling above him gives way to what looks like a wood-covered porch, which quickly gives way to the night sky. It’s all fuzzy, but he swears he can see stars up there; he never really got to see stars before moving to Austin, save for the inconsistent trips he would take outside of the city. 

He likes seeing the stars. He likes the open vastness of it all. It makes him feel equally too large and too small, which is honestly a really freeing, confusing feeling.

There are blue and red lights painting the trees overhead, and he’s reminded of his childhood room, with his firetruck bed and his color-changing lamp that would soothingly move from red to blue, just the way he liked. It feels so long ago, but he remembers it so clearly. It’s the only clear thing he can see right now.

He can tell he’s fading away again, his short reprieve to the land of the living coming to an end. The voices are still both loud and muted, but he no longer cares what they’re saying. The pain is reaching his maximum capacity, the edges of his vision turning white. 

It’s okay, he thinks. It’s all going to be okay.

He feels his head drift to the right, and he swears he sees a familiar face, proud nose and perfect lips under a head of soft brown curls and soulful eyes that have seen deep into the very heart of him. 

He smiles, perfectly content with Carlos being his final thought before he goes. 

------

Someone’s coughing.

It takes him no time at all to realize that it’s him, that he’s the one hacking up a lung. He feels like his chest is on fire and he can’t take a full breath. There’s heat all around him, flames painting his surroundings an unrecognizable, hazy orange. The bed is gone, the dresser is gone. It’s all vanishing, lost to the fire. 

But that’s not what causes him to panic, that’s not what stops his breath. That’s not what threatens to shatter him completely.

Carlos is among the flames.

They’re crawling up his body, latching on to his blue shirt, the one that TK thinks makes him look completely unreal. Well, truly that’s anything he wears, but blue always makes Carlos look soft. 

It makes him look like home. The greatest one that TK has ever known.

And now, TK watches as his home catches on fire, unable to move, to step forward, to pull Carlos to safety. His boyfriend watches him as the flames rise up between them, his eyes wide and full of fear, his chest heaving from the breaths that he just can’t seem to catch. TK wants to yell out, tell Carlos to come to him, that they can get out of this together if they just hurry, but every time he goes to speak, a cough climbs up his throat, burying the words inside of him. 

He knows he’d be crying if he could, but the flames have stolen his tears from him, too. The flames are going to take everything from him. Everything that matters, packaged inside one wonderful, miraculous, unexpected person.

And before he can even blink, Carlos is gone, swallowed whole, no trace of the man that TK chose to give his entire heart to. He’s gone, and TK desperately wants to follow him. 

There’s a creak above him and he has just enough time to look up before the entire ceiling comes down on top of him, granting him his final wish.

He jerks awake, the coughs relentless as he folds himself in half, trying to remove the smoke and ash from his body. It’s dark in the room now, the fire finally extinguished. Except, no, that’s not right, because as he looks around, he sees that everything is intact. Nothing burnt, nothing broken. 

He reaches out blindly, trying to find Carlos in the dark, but he’s met with only air. He turns, taking in the empty space on the mattress beside him, the untouched pillow.

“No,” he gasps, shaking his head, and finally the tears come, no longer frightened of the untamable heat. “No, Carlos, no,” he sobs, pulling at the sheets, hoping that he can find him hiding somewhere in their depths. He claws at them, desperate, unhinged. 

“TK!”

The voice is salvation, the timbre unmatched in its miraculousness. TK whips around, searching and scanning for the source. He lets out a cry when he finds him, standing in the doorway, dressed in nothing but athletic shorts, a bright white towel pressed to his curls, water still trailing down his bare chest.

Whole, untouched, safe. His home.

And TK just loses it.

In seconds, he’s in Carlos’s arms, his firm hands pressed against his back as his shoulders close around him, encasing him. His lips press to the shell of TK’s ear, his voice pouring into him like lava, filling all of his cavities and crevices left behind by the nightmare that took Carlos away from him.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m right here, it’s okay.”

TK sobs, clinging to him, his voice piercing in the quiet of his dad’s guest room. “You were there and you were surrounded by the fire and I couldn’t get to you, I couldn’t move, and I had to watch you, I just had to watch you go and then you weren’t there anymore, and it was like you were never there at all, but I couldn’t do anything, I just--”

“Hey, hey, Ty, breathe,” Carlos says, drowning out his voice with his own, pressing closer. “It was just a nightmare, we both made it out, we’re both here and we’re both okay. We’re both okay.”

“I… I can’t… I just…” 

“Baby, you’re shaking, you’ve gotta calm down, okay.”

“I don’t… I can’t…”

“Here, lay back down,” Carlos says, loosening his grip a bit. TK shrieks, holding tighter. “It’s okay, trust me. TK, I need you to trust me.”

It takes him a moment, but finally TK lets him go. He closes his eyes, feeling the way Carlos lowers him back down onto the mattress. TK can still feel himself shaking, but before he can really start to panic again, he feels a weight on him, one that presses him firmly down, grounding him, holding him steady, from head-to-toe.

His eyes flutter open to take in Carlos above him where his face is pressed into his neck. He breathes, taking stock of their bodies, the way their hips rest against each other, the way Carlos firm thighs bracket his own. He brings his arms up around him, wrapping them around Carlos’s wide back before dragging one hand to the back of his neck and burying them in the soft curls there. 

It’s a position he’s intimately familiar with, though unlike other times there is nothing remotely sexual about this situation. Carlos turns his head just enough to press his lips under TK’s jaw, dragging his nose along the light stubble there. 

All he feels, all he sees, all he hears, is Carlos.

“Just breathe, baby. I’m right here. I’m all around you. I’ll keep you safe. Just like you kept me safe in the fire, just like you kept me grounded, just like you brought me back down when I felt scared and hurt and lost. I’m here for you now. It’s you and me, keeping each other safe, just you and me.”

He nods, letting Carlos drown him in his own form of a sermon, allowing the words to wash over him like a verse. He lets each syllable piece him back together again, remade in the image of the man he’s deemed worthy of loving him. The only man he will ever trust to do so.

He doesn’t need anything else, doesn’t want anything else. This is all he needs. This is all he will ever need.

Just him and Carlos, like this, forever.

-----

Someone’s snoring.

He comes to slowly, letting the world reintroduce itself to him. He hears music first, though it sounds tinny and, if he’s being honest, kind of grating. He shifts his hips a bit, feeling how the movement pulls against some tension in his lower back. He realizes he’s on a very hard surface and not at all on the very expensive mattress that he and Carlos splurged for a few years ago, when his husband started having his own fair share of lower back problems.

He opens his eyes, watching blue and red lights dance across the ceiling from the TV in the corner. A smile pulls at his lips as he shakes his head slightly, amused for no specific reason. Blue and red, he thinks. He’ll never escape them.

He lifts his head just enough to see the children’s TV show currently playing to an audience of none. He remembers when Carlos, fully offended at Netflix asking if he was still watching the same show after a few hours, finally figured out a way to turn that setting off. TK will have to tease him about not turning off the autoplay function tomorrow morning.

He finally focuses on the snoring off to his right, a sound so familiar that he hadn’t really registered it before, his brain just accepting that it was there. He turns his head, his smile growing as he finds his husband asleep next to him, his head resting on TK’s outstretched (and now very painfully numb) arm. 

Carlos’s face is so soft, so serene, his brows slightly furrowed, his crease between his eyes just a little more pronounced. His lips are parted just barely, allowing his shallow breaths to escape and fill the living room around them. TK stares at him, overwhelmed by his beauty, overwhelmed by the feelings that are spreading throughout his chest at the sight of the man before him. 

Even in sleep, Carlos is mesmerizing.

TK glances down, his heart leaping at the sight of their little boy asleep between them, his face buried in Carlos’s shirt, his light brown curls resting against the pillow beneath him. Carlos has an arm draped over him, his fingers grazing TK’s arm. 

A memory flashes in his mind, one from when he was much younger, of his parents surrounding him in much the same way as they all lay together on his firetruck bed. He remembers how safe he felt between them; how between their bodies, he knew he could never be hurt.

He’s surprised to find that he feels that way even now, even as a father himself. He knows it’s because of the man before him; Carlos’s presence has always meant safety to him. He doesn’t see that ever stopping. He wouldn’t ever want it to.

He scoots just a little bit closer, groaning slightly at the numbness in his arm. He holds his breath as his husband shifts, his eyelids fluttering open. Brown eyes meet green, and TK feels the entire world shift into focus in that single moment.

“Hey,” Carlos whispers, dragging his fingers gently along TK’s side.

“We fell asleep on the living room floor,” TK whispers, scrunching his face as he shifts again, feeling the strain on his hips.

“Actually, you fell asleep on the floor, in the middle of Paw Patrol,” Carlos corrects, his hand leaving TK’s side to boop his nose. “We just decided that we would rather stay with you than sleep in our incredibly comfy beds.”

“Your back is going to kill you in the morning, you know that, right?”

“I could say the same thing about your hips,” Carlos replies, raising an eyebrow. TK says nothing, just nods his head and rolls his eyes. 

“Grace is taking him tomorrow night, so we can run a bath, work out each other's kinks.”

“The fact that you are saying that and it’s not about sex makes me feel so incredibly old.”

“I never said it couldn’t be about sex.”

TK feels his jaw drop, watching as Carlos’s eyes twinkle in the blue light from the TV. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his husband’s lips. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Strand-Reyes.”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t, Mr. Strand-Reyes.”

TK drags the tip of his nose along the ridge of Carlos’s before letting out a sigh. “Now that we’re awake, should we move to our beds, save ourselves from total regret and bodily mutilation?”

Carlos hums, looking down at the bundle of limbs between them. “It’s up to you. I just want to sleep next to you, wherever you are.”

TK takes him in for a moment, the way his long lashes brush against his cheeks, the peaceful smile that pulls at his lips as he looks down at their son. It’s a stunning image, powerful in its perfection.

“No, I think we can handle one night,” he says, scooting closer. He does remove his arm from under Carlos’s head, replacing it with the throw pillow laying on the ground next to them. “Besides, I think this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

Carlos hums in agreement, wiggling a little closer and smacking his lips softly as he drifts off to sleep.

TK stays awake until Carlos’s soft snores drown out all possible distractions, the feeling of absolute love and certainty filling him with a heaviness that drags him back into the darkness of sleep, all nightmares kept at bay for now.

[binniesthighs]

dakimakura | reader x jisung

Pairing: self insert, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: smut, pwp 

Tags: softsub!jisung, harddom!reader, friends to lovers, pillow humping (m), masturbation (m), cumshot, begging, piv cowgirl, praising, dirty talk, corruption kink (f & m), degredation 

Word count: 2.4k 

Inspo: i blame you @jisungsplatforms (but I also love you *mwah* hehe thank you for this inspo! the realest friends introduce you to new kinks lolll) 

When the lights turn off, or in the dead of night, Jisung can’t help himself. 

How can something that feels so good make him feel so guilty? 

It had been a gag gift from some holiday or birthday--he can’t remember at this point. Sure, he thought that it was real funny at the time--what was even funnier to him was the fact that one of his friends had actually seen the thing, thought of him, and then spent money on it. Their loss, not his. 

By comparison, it wasn’t much larger than he was. Jisung knew that the large, body sized pillow could fit him well and he could fit it smushed onto his twin sized mattress when he pushed it up against the wall. It could almost be like it wasn’t even there. 

Jisung didn’t even know the character’s name, but he had tried to look it up once. The search yielded no results and he gave up easily after that too. All that he knew was that she must have been from some sci-fi thing--the very kind of anime show that he didn’t often watch. He really was one for the softer, cuter, more romantic ones that would leave him wanting something like that. 

She had red hair and a red outfit that had been illustrated to look as if it shone. She had cute features: a thin waist, a tiny nose and a pleading brown eyes with fingers hooking into the waist of her pants suggestively. Her thighs were perfectly shaped; unrealistically so--as they often were. Naturally, her breasts were humongous: a stark contrast to the rest of her body which was thin and lithe. 

The other side of the pillow, or the the side which he kept face down, ridded her of all of her clothes. The character wore baby pink lingerie which was nearly sheer. It left little to the imagination: her perky nipples protruded the fabric, and her glistening pussy slicked wet on her thighs and between her hairless folds. On top of it all, her orange hair had strewn everywhere onto the mattress-like image she was placed on, and her tongue dripped with in saliva that dripped down her neck. 

“Real classy.” Chan had called it. 

Jisung said that he was going to throw it out after it spent one night in his room when he was too tired from the festivities. 

He had heard that these things were comfortable, so he didn’t see the harm in trying. 

Jisung wrapped his leg around the body pillow to cuddle it, and the action itself was embarrassing enough to send a blush to his cheeks. The large mass did feel comforting, like another body in his bed which had only even been home to him. In the dark of his room, he could barely see the design, but knowing that it was there was something else. To save himself even further shame, he flipped it to the side where she was clothed. Even though no one had seen him do so in his sacred single-room, he still felt a cringe creep across his mouth. 

Just once. Just once I’ll look at it. 

He promised himself before turning the pillow over. 

Sure, her breasts were gorgeous: perfectly plump looking and doughy to play with...just as he had often fantasized about. His mind wandered to even more crude thoughts: what would she taste like, how would she sound if he had fucked her: would she be loud of soft? Would she be tight? 

Between his legs, he felt the heat rising, and jerked his hips at his wandering thoughts against cushion of the pillow. 

The blankets of the bed shifted, the frame creaked, then he found himself looming over her orgasmic face and all he could do was run wild with even more questions. Perhaps she would be soft, she would squeak, she would mix his name with her moans. 

Jisung straddled with pillow in his boxers and sighed out at the pressure of his hardening erection against her waist. He rolled his hips once, twice, a third time... 

“F-fuck...” 

He pressed his full weight against the pillow as he wetted the insides of his underwear with his dripping tip. His shaking fingers clawed out at the corners to hold himself steady, and with his unstable breaths he looked down at her. Tiny and stifled moans bit at his lip where he rocked his hips, slowly growing addicted to the friction. 

“F-fuck.” He cursed to the empty room again.  

Jisung didn’t know that he would enjoy edging himself so much, but with that first night, he was learning plenty of new things. 

After all, the pillow didn’t end up in the garbage, but rather the laundry. 

~🌹~

You had known of his little secret. 

While Jisung had thought that he could keep himself quiet, the steady creak of his bed during the late hours of the night gave him up obviously. 

You thought that it was cute. 

In fact, you had often imagined what he would’ve looked like desperately grinding himself over that pillow until he could take no more, or how he would milk his cum all over fabric and let it string between his fingers. Some nights, he would even go for more than one round. He must’ve been so agitated, so untouched, that he could do something like that to himself. 

You wanted to see it. 

The floorboards betrayed your steps to his room where the thumping had started near the hours of 2 or 3 in the morning. He had even left the door cracked open a little; as careless as he was. 

From the other side of his door, his breathy little moans were unbelievable. The fact that he could do something to himself was remarkable. He could work himself up to the point of overstimulation all on his own, and he would do it multiple times. 

“Mm.” He whimpered out, and the sound of his sheets crinkling followed. 

It was undeniable that you felt a similar heat below your waist, and it wetted your panties and clit so obviously it ached for you bring a touch for relief. Your thighs rubbed together to find some kind of sensation, but you wanted to wait the longest you could. You would save it all for him. 

“Jisung? Are you still awake?” You asked softly with a knock on the door. 

He scrambled with a tiny yelp and the sound of the pillow getting thrown to the floor poofed. 

“I can’t sleep, I’m coming in.” 

He had done somewhat of a good job covering it up...if you had ignored his discarded boxers also on the floor. Jisung pulled up his blanket all the way up to his nose. The light from the hall flooded, and you could still see the rosy blush to his cheeks. 

“I-I’m awake. Come-come in.” 

“You okay?” You asked, trying not to eye the evidence on the floor. 

“Yeah! Yeah! A-HEM! Yeah. All good here.” 

Under his thin sheets, his legs wiggled and you wondered if he had been close, and if you had just ruined his orgasm. 

“What can I help you with?” He timidly asked with legs still impatiently twisting. 

“Oh...I just couldn’t sleep, so I was wondering if you could help me?” 

His eyes widened, “How so?” 

“Well, for starters, you could show me something.” 

“Show you?” Jisung’s nervous eyes flicked from you to the discarded pillow, which had embarrassingly even landed on the scantily clad side. 

“I hope that I didn’t interrupt you.” You teased him further with a growing grin. 

“I-interrupt me? I wasn’t...I wasn’t doing anything? I was sleep--” 

“--Jisungie, I think that the both of us know that you definitely weren’t sleeping.” 

Jisung stammered, and you could tell that he had tried with all his might to not look back down at the pillow. 

“Was-was not? I was sleeping.” 

You strode confidently over to the rejected pillow, not even surprised to feel that it had been lightly wet from some kind of body fluid. You waved it in his face with an even more smug grin. 

“You’re terrible at keeping secrets Sungie. You don’t have to be so shy about it. Not when I know already.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He said, becoming defensive.  

“Don’t pretend like you fuck this cute little pillow of yours and ruin it. I’m not blind Jisung. Also...there’s no shame in that...” 

“I do not!!” 

“If you don’t then would you like to explain why I can see your cute dick bouncing under this blanket?” 

Jisung yelped out even louder and threw his hands down his body to cover the obvious area, nearly hitting himself at the same time, then hissing out at his sensitivity. He shied, finally realizing that he couldn’t hide it any more. 

“...It’s embarrassing.” 

“Awww you’re so cute Sungie.” 

“Can you not tell anyone?” 

You laughed, “I think it’s a bit late for that. If I know...likely everyone else does.” 

“Ah shit.” 

“I could...help you, if you’d like?” 

Jisung appeared to crumble into a shy little ball. “What do you mean? This is embarrassing enough.” 

You asked permission to peel the sheets back, and he let you do so with a shocked little glisten to his big brown eyes. It was just as you had expected: his cock was pink and hardened furiously with his tip that flared and bubbling with precum. It was deliciously thick with a considerable length, the kind that you knew would’ve felt amazing in your throat. 

“Look at you...so worked up...you did this all yourself?” 

Jisung nodded with his face in his hands. 

“I-I can’t help it sometimes. It just feels s-so good.” 

“Can you show me baby? Show me how you grind into this pillow of yours? Wouldn’t that feel nice?” 

You brought the redheaded anime girl back to his bed which he peeked at through closed fingers. 

“When you look at her, what does it feel like? You wish that you could fuck her? Feel her warm pussy around your cock that only gets tighter and tighter...”

Jisung whimpered at your coaxing and nodded to every word. “ ‘Want to know...want to know what it feels like...” 

“Show me how you do it Sungie, cum all over your dirty pillow for me, soak it. Ruin it.” 

The adorable boy nodded, then shifted to straddle it once more now facing you. He swam in his oversized tee, and he was looked just as soft as you had expected. 

“L-like this?” He said, sinking over the cotton with his throbbing dick. 

“Just like that baby. Keep going.” 

Jisung dug his fingernails into the pillow as he thrust over it and flicked his hips nearly directly over the character’s waist and stomach. He couldn’t meet your eyes at first, but focused only on the way that he fucked it, but as soon as your praises started to fill his ears, he wanted you to watch him. It felt pathetic, but he loved it. 

“That’s it Sungie. Does it feel good? Fuck, look how cute you are. You’re that desperate that you would fuck this pillow? You want to know what it feels like?’ 

“Mm-yes.” Jisung muttered with even more broken gasps, “W-wanna know...what it feels like...inside...please--” 

“If you cum for me first, maybe you can find out.” 

Jisung looked up to you, pleading.” “R-really? You’ll let me?” 

“You want to fuck me Jisungie?” 

“Fuck--yes.”  The small boy nearly growled. 

“Cum for me first.” 

He huffed out in his focus, but nodded, while thrusting his hips harder. 

Everything about him was a sight to behold that sent your arousal straight to your clit which twitched just for him. As badly as he wanted to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him too; fuck him until he couldn’t make sense of his words, or until he had begged you to give him a break. 

Jisung continued at his face, and the longer he went, the more whiny his moans became. Pre-cum pearled at his tip which turned even redder against the fabric, and his back arched when he found an angle that he preferred. When he got closer, his eyes screwed shut, and his eyelids fluttered when he brought out his orgasm. 

“F-feels really good...” He said with a tiny euphoric smile. “C-close.” 

“Cum for me baby, just like the dirty baby that you are fucking that pillow. Is your dick that desperate to feel a cunt? This is the best that you come up with?” 

As your words turned dirtier, Jisung appeared to loose himself further, groaning out louder, and drawing his hips in deeper and collapsing over the length of the pillow. 

“M’ gonna cum, f-fuck, please wanna feel you, so, so bad.” 

“Prove it.” You challenged him further. 

With a strained little grunt that was much too cute for his own good, Jisung came over the design of the anime girl on his pillow, and he splattered her with white. His whole body shook with his high, and he shivered as he milked himself over her till his dick twitched with nothing more left to give. 

He gasped out and looked to you for approval, which you gave him overwhelmingly seeing the way that his thighs even trembled too. 

“Did I do good?” He asked while jerking himself further, not even caring that it made him flinch. 

“Of course you did babyboy.” You praised, and leaned over the sticky mess to give him a quick kiss. “I’d make you go longer, but I’m feeling impatient.” 

Jisung watched when you striped your bottom half of your sweatpants, and nearly drooled seeing you dip your hand between your folds to rub slowly at your swelling clit and swirl your fingers with your own cum. 

“See what you do to me Jisungie?” 

He nodded vehemently and threw back his beloved pillow to make more space for you. 

“Oh my god...this is really happening.” He whispered out. 

Your hand slid over to his dick lathered with his cum and you twisted around it with your own hand, then roughly toyed with his slit. After, you took your own slick to mix and rub around his length. He collapsed to his back overcome with the pressure from your hand. 

“Oh god.” He hushed with legs still trembling. “Please fuck me, I-I can’t wait...hurts...”  

“Oh I will Sungie.” You returned, and positioned your hips over his, and teased at your entrance with his pink head. “It’s my turn to ride now.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz