#drabbles am i right?

[trrickytickle]

Ten-Tickles 🛸

the punchline was “what does it take to make an alien laugh?” but then again, title would get too long. last fic i did for this franchise was so bad (it was pretty much a glorified headcanon list) so i deleted it 💀 Be warned, a lot of these drabbles have the same sort of wafer-thin setup, I just need excuses to write the situations they're in.

Self-indulgent switch Ben+Gwen drabbles I did in between prompts and such. because 1) I’m a 2000s CN kid and 2) I’m trash lmao. Props to my brother for putting up with me for asking him questions about a show I haven’t seen in years and then again it was only bits and pieces of said show. they should have had a tk scene let me live my truth. and yes i've never watched this show in years but i do have a human encyclopedia at my disposal (shoutout again to my poor brobro)

But anyways, oh my DAYS, Ben and Gwen. Still essential parts of EVERY tickle doodle sheet. They were THE ler-leaning switches ever in my day (old hag voice). DEF annoying lers, tk potential THROUGH DA ROOOOF but the shenanigans are better in small doses. footerfeet tickles in ditto + wildvine + greymatter drabbles btw (if u dont like) (OH and in the last drabble as well)

I am NOT familiar at all with any of the story stuff or like 128923 other serieses. All I know is that there's a blue furry now and what my brother tells me (a whole bunch, it's the tism) (same). This is just my brainvomit.  So yeah. These are the small shenanigan doses. 10 drabbles, 10 aliens, that’s the gist.  YEAH IM TRASH SUE ME

Putting the weird gut-wrenching feeling he got after the Omnitrix would power down again aside, Ghostfreak was a fun one. What was not to love about phasing through walls like a peeping Tom and scaring the crap out of little kids? Best part was- Gwen didn’t seem to like him.

This past summer, the Rustbucket had parked its tires down next to many, many art museums, much to Ben’s dismay. The Cleveland Art Museum was no different to him (it was in Ohio, so it was probably worse).  Marble statues and paintings filled a lifeless square with ivory walls as if to compensate for something. Like the art strung up on the walls, it was a tragic sight. Ben gave a loud groan, to which Grandpa Max shushed in response.

“Look, it’s all part of the deal-” he lectured. “We went where you wanted to go-”

“Blehh-bleh-blehh-bleh-bleh-bleh-bleeh..” Ben mocked, just barely brushing past a delicate display.

“Can’t you have some culture, mush-for-brains!?” Gwen snapped. “This place has lots of history behind it!”

They kept walking, stopping to admire piece after piece after piece, and then they just had to read the little information cards on the bottom. Boring.

“Yeah, yeah, history, schmistory. The guy who drew that’s probably dead anyway. Speaking of dead…” Slamming the dial on a spooky silhouette, Ghostfreak floated up with a chill in the frigid air. 

 "Boo!" he joked, startling Gwen (and everyone else in the museum) with a jolt. She scowled, glaring daggers into Ghostfreak's single pupil.

“What? This place is practically a ghost town already.” Another glare from the ginger. “Tough crowd, I guess.”  Ghostfreak phased through a few statues and peeled off its skin to scare onlookers, then went back to bother Gwen again.

“Heeeeeyyy…” 

"What.” Gwen snapped, turning around from her view of a sculpture. The alien dove through her torso, phasing through and quite literally getting inside her head, possessing her and stringing her hands around like a disorganized puppeteer.

"Stop tickling yourself." Ghostfreak rasped. Out of her control, Gwen's own hands danced around her tummy. Her possessed body struggled to keep from breaking out in a laughing fit, snickering, snorting and gritting her teeth.

"NGH-gh-hh-heh.." Gwen grunted, contorting her twisting smile into a grimace. Her own arms still moved unwillingly around her sides, and Ghostfreak's teasing whispers rang through her own corporal body.

"Stop tickling yourself. Stop tickling yourself. Stooop tickling yourself~" Her cousin's nagging voice surrounded Gwen's thoughts louder than usual, and if that wasn't bad enough, her own fingers involuntarily dug their way into her ribs, and along the hallowing halls reverberated her shrill, loud shriek.

'Hehehe-haha-hYIEEEEK!! Youhohou're such a dweeb!!" Through laughter, her own hands squeesed their way down her sides.

Ghostfreak phased out of her, laughing in a strange demented manner. Scowling, Gwen and Grandpa Max were dragged out of the building whilst Ben floated behind, gloating.

Well, this wasn't the first place they were kicked out of.

The Plumber base was cool at first. The secret entrance was cool. The alien ray-guns were cool. Even the prospect of plain old Grandpa kicking butt for a living was cool. As visits became more frequent, the wow-factor dulled. Grandpa Max would almost always be off discussing confidential matters, and Ben and Gwen would be left to their own devices under the vague condition of "don't touch anything", and more often than not, Ben would run into a room he wasn't allowed in while Gwen ran after him, and such was the case. A monitor twice the size of a movie screen fell before the cousins' eyes, with a keyboard thrice as wide to boot.

"Too many failed login attempts. Try again in fifteen minutes!?" Ben groaned. "You'd think we'd be allowed to test some of this stuff out.."

"What part of "don't touch anything" do you not understand, bozo?" Gwen retorted.

"Relax, it's not like he'll notice.." Ben shrugged in response, fingers wriggling over the cluttered keyboard. Before he could lay a finger on it, Gwen held him up by the back of his shirt.

"Hey! Do I look like I want Grandpa to kill us?"

Writhing, Ben looked down, turning the Omnitrix dial and slamming it, resulting in a mass of neon-streaked ferrofluid coagulating into his technological form. Upgrade slithered its way out of Gwen's reach and enveloped the screen, and Ben was interlinked to the monitor.

"Wo-ho-hoah! Look at all these! I don't even know what to name all of them!" Upgrade chirped, putty-like head popping out of the monitor. Slides of alien data files popped up in duochromatic green and black. Gwen groaned in frustration and scoured the keyboard for some sort of power down switch.

"Come on, come on! The Plumbers should know where to put a dang off button!" Disgruntled, Gwen's fingers closed as many tabs as her cousin could open. Ben felt jolts of static zapping at his mechanical form. For every press on the unnecessarily complicated contraption, the little zaps would grow increasingly inconvenient. And they tickled. Bad. Upgrade thrashed, threatening to jump out of the screen.

"-ngh- Would you stop -ugh- bothering me? I'm trying to get us- YOU out of trouble!" Gwen dodged the assault of his synthetic limbs while resuming her attempt to shut the device off.

"Hehe-heh-hey! I'm nohot trying to, you're tickling me!" Upgrade jittered. There was an eager glint in Gwen's eyes which made him regret his choice of words. Like a pianist, she cracked her knuckles, wiggling her fingers before the keys.

"Oh yeah? How's this for tickling? How about this?" Gwen pressed a crescendo of keys in a sadistic cacophony in a quick, succeeding fashion. Her fingers precisely clicked away from the top row all across the bottom. Upgrade's putty-like construct could barely constrict, only jutting outwards as each shockwave coursed through his synthetic body.

"G-gh-HA-HA-heh-HAHA-hah-heh-ha-HAHAHAHAHA! Quihihit it, lame-brain! Stohop, stohoho-hop! Ihi-hihi'm beheh-hehe-gging you!"

"Nope. Serves you right!" Gwen continued, smirking in sadistic glee at her newfound knowledge. Her hands criss-crossed across the board, aiming for certain nooks and crannies (the space bar was especially bad), laughing along with the Mechamorph.

As what was left of ten minutes ticked away, the clicking of keys grew louder and faster, and Upgrade's chippery laughter rang through the hallowed halls of the Plumber base.

It wasn’t fair. No matter how many games of license plate bingo Ben betted it on, it was always Gwen who got to sit and soak up the AC in the front seat. It was torture, seeing her kick back, a gloating grin square on her face when she looked back at the shaky, sizzling back seat- and desperate times like this called for desperate measures. Annoying ones. Wandering his way down the matted carpet of the Rustbucket on his tiptoes, Ben crept up at his cousin and goosed her in the sides with an evil glint in his eyes.

“Poke.”

A squeal! made Grandpa look back from the steering wheel and groan dejectedly. Gwen scowled, gritting her teeth.

“Rrrr!  Why do you have to be such a- EEEEE!!” A plethora of pokes followed from her sides up to her ribs, along with occasional digs at her armpits- that is if they weren’t slammed shut in preparation for imminent attack.

“Gr-Grandpa! He’s being annoying!” To no avail, Grandpa Max kept on driving, trying to shut out her high pitched laughter.

“I’m only stopping if you’ll let me sit up front..” Ben retorted obnoxiously. “Poooooke- OW!” Gwen flicked him on the index finger in response, giggling smugly. He attempted to reach in numerous times afterwards, but each one would be deflected by Gwen’s hand.

“Nice try, doofus! That won’t work on me!” she stated, hands on hips. It was desperate times like now which called for desperate measures. Knowing Ben, he wouldn’t back down from a challenge, and when Gwen heard the dial-turn of the Omnitrix, it spelled trouble.

“But this might!” Four-Arms’ booming, baritone voice growled. His massive size bent him double against the roof of the RV, which only made Gwen closer to (two) arms’ reach.

“Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”

But think about it he did. Gwen’s wrists were grasped by Ben’s single muscle-bound alien arm, lifting her up, and his other three were prodding away while she squirmed at the hands of the squatting extraterrestrial.

"Hihihehehehehe-AH-haha! Puhuhut me dohohown!" She bucked, instinctively kicking the window so hard the air freshener swung like a pendulum. Grandpa Max lifted one hand off the steering wheel to facepalm and rub his temples. Kids.

"Surrender the front seat!"

"Or whahahat, you slimeba-ha-hall!?"

"Or I'm amping it up!" Halting the stabbing jabs, Four-Arms lifted Gwen's legs up, receiving full access to her torso. Her long-sleeved tee was pulled to reveal her midsection, which his brawny lower hands then toyed with like an organ. "So, about that front seat.. Ready for it to be mine now? Huh??.." " ..Huh? Aw, MAN!" Like it was fate, the Omnitrix timed out in a flash of red, and Ben was met with a stern Grandpa-glare.

Why'd she always have to win?

"Kk-ggh-HA-HA! That's unfahair! G-Gwen, you're che-hee-HEA-ting!" 

"Hah-how is it chehe-heating if- -ngh- I'm nohot letting you cheat!?" 

The plasticine squeak of chafing against polyester was frequent as gunfire in the warzone that was the Rustbucket and laughter filled summer air like mustard gas- an all-out tickle tussle had arose in the midst of a stop for gas and supplies. Gwen had the upper hand, as Ben had slid off onto the carpet from her dirty tactic of holding up his left hand (conveniently also his cool alien watch-wielding hand) and targeting his armpit. Hypocritically, she reached over for her spellbook,  leaning over on the booth seat as her cousin floundered on the carpet, and she had let go, unaware, only to look back at a flash of neon green. Ditto emerged, splitting into one- then two- then three. 

"Uh-ooooh, looks like somebody's outnumbered!" One chatty clone piped while the other snuck up behind her back, putting its arms above Gwen's shoulders and mercilessly targeting her tummy. The other two, however, grabbed her ankles and tossed her shoes off and gave each other the same shit-eating knowing smirk, cartoonishly wiggling their free fingers. 

"Hah-hehe-HA-ha-HA! Ahaha-ha-quit it, quit it, qui-hih-hi-hit it!" Gwen repeated, giggling.

"Raspberry on three?" the Ditto at her left foot remarked, the rest nodding. 

"Three.. two.." 

"One!" Gwen yelled, squeezing the Ditto behind her's side. All three yelped in unison, and the smile on her face shifted to one involuntary to a knowing grin. Smirking, she pinned the clone down, pursing her lips and leaning in for a satisfyingly sloppy raspberry, then  another, and then another. All three laughed hysterically, swatting at air. 

"guh-HA-HAHA-AHAHAHA-HA!! Stoppit! P-puh-PLEEASE!" 

"Hah-HA-Ha-HAHA-Haha-have MERCY!!" 

"Nnnnghh-HHHAHA-HA!! It TICKLES!!" 

"Not 'till lunch, dwe- ACK!" Gwen called back as the Omnitrix timed out, only to be greeted with a pounce by her now-human cousin, his fingers threateningly spidering over her. "Don't even! B-Be-hehe-hen!"

Typically, Gwen wasn't one to boast. It was mainly Ben's antics that kept her humble during the road trip. Today seemed to be a rather obnoxious exception- she'd just grasped a spell, and used it every chance she got. Throughout this long summer day, cries of "Reanima Verdanica!" irritated Ben and to an extent, Grandpa Max to no end as flowers bloomed wherever she went.

"Alright, alright! I get it! You can make a few posies and pansies, what's the big deal!?" Ben whined. No response. Thinking the campsite they were parked at could use a little sprucing up, wildflowers sprouted from the mana on Gwen's hands onto the ground. Flowers that were tenfold their original size were visible from the sun-faded windows. Ben slumped onto the dinette table, rolling his eyes, when not long after he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"A little Wildvine'll show her who's boss!" Evergreen now surrounded the inside of the vehicle in a flash of light.  Ben, in Wildvine's form, slithered out the door and snuck up behind his cousin.

"Reanima...verdanicAAHHH! What is WITH you, freakazoid!?" 

"Hah! How's this for a plant?" Wildvine growled. "Betcha flowers can't do this!" Extending like a jumper cable, a tendril from his left hand extended, grabbing Gwen by her legs. Upside-down, the spellcaster struggled in her surprisingly strong bonds. Her spellbook fell to the floor with an underwhelming thud.

"Grrrr! Let me down, or-"

"Or what? You're gonna make me a flower crown?" He gloated. Wildvine's tuberous face shifted into a smirk, and from his sides, he conjured three sets of rakelike vines- two of which wormed into Gwen's armpits, the other pair slowly skittered against her ribs and tummy, and, to her relief, the last pair laid still against his roots. His methods were slow, but boy, were they evil.

"Ngh-hehe-gGGGGH! Reanima-haha... Verda-HA! Reanima Ver-daha-HAnicA! Ngh.. STUPID spell!" Continually, Gwen attempted to say the spell straight-faced, but humiliating giggles would slip out in between her attempt to resist. Not even weeds would grow from the ground. 

"Payback, princess!" Wildvine rasped, the last set of arms shot up and the left arm grabbed hold of her left foot, whilst the right took off her shoe and began to scribble and shuffle against her sole in quick succession. The other vines followed suit, speeding up.

"Ugh! Reanima-HA-HAHAHAHA! Eeee-ya-hehehe-HAHAHA! You are so-hoho getting it when I'm out of here!"

She'd keep that promise and keep it well.

(oh ma JESUS i had to do research (ick) to get this one to work, i'm also a dog person if you couldn't tell)

Most people associated summer with sweltering heat and running through sprinklers. Most people, however, would not associate it with a life-or-death journey to retrieve lost alien DNA samples across the galaxy on a spaceship. Half the Omnitrix's rogue's gallery had been magically corrupted in a battle with Hex, giving Ben limited access to its library. 

It wasn't as grueling as the past battle against Vilgax- the aliens scanned in the past had offered themselves up again without a fight- but Wildmutt's sample was different. Its home planet Vulpin also housed heaps of malignant radioactive waste, so Tetrax, the crystalized mercenary, took matters into his own hands and brought it onto the ship. Flighty, feral and difficult to control, it was hard to ease. 

"Now, no sudden movements.." Tetrax husked. "Just touch and scan." 

"Aw, yeah! Just one left and it's hero time!" Ben boasted. To prevent further damage, the Vulpimancer was surrounded by a ring of creeping green crystal. 

"Nice doggy.. good doggy.." Gwen attempted to reason. The alien responded, eagerly lapping her face and showering it in thick drool. "Ugh! Gross!" Sniffing the air, the canid alien inched toward the two human children. It snarled, then with a series of curious pants, leapt at Ben. 

"Yeesh. Talk about a sudden movement." Gwen chided. The Omnitrix-bearer was nervous- its sharp teeth and cud-like drool was an inch to his face. Tetrax and Gwen flinched. Ben knew Wildmutt, and he knew him well- this beast could maul him at any second. 

What came instead was much less lethal- the alien's panting changed to that of excitement, and nuzzling against the fabric of Ben's shirt, it started to sniff him, the gusts of hot air blowing against his tummy. 

"Nnghh! Gh-hh-Ahah-Hh--" 

Gritting his teeth, it didn't take long before he'd burst into loud, embarrassing laughter. 

"AH-hah-ha-ha-HAHA! Hehe-haha- Te-hetrax! Make him stohohop!" 

Tetrax stood, smiling innocently. Boyish laughter urged the Vulpimancer to lean in closer and pepper Ben with slobbering dog-kisses, much to Gwen's delight- this was perfect blackmail material. 

"Aw, who's a good boy? Whooo's a good boy? Who loves torturing my doofus cousin? You do, ooooooh, yes, you do!" Gwen cooed, teasing Ben with wriggly fingers. 

"Gaha-guh-Gwen! J-Juhust ge-heh-het Wildmutt offa mehe-hehe!" 

"What's that? The doofus says he likes it?" She chided. 

"Now, now, don't tease him too much. Scanning mode will trigger soon." Tetrax responded, ceasing playing dumb. 

Ben bucked, as the Vulpimancer's head wormed its way into his armpit, instinctively causing him to conk it on its skull with the Omnitrix. The watch glowed a dim orange as a robotic voice reverbrated-

 "Scanning mode engaged." Finally. Both Tetrax and Gwen helped the mushy, giggly puddle on the floor which was Ben Tennyson up. Panting in relief, the tingly, shaggy sensation passed. The Omnitrix was complete, and it was safe travels back from here- safe, long, travels where Gwen wouldn't let him live this down.  

(this picture looks really stupid HAHA)

Despite the wide range of useful alien heroes in the Omnitrix, it was no secret that Ben had a clear bias towards Four-Arms- what more could you want? Heck, the guy was hulked out, with four knuckle sandwiches at the ready- and his strength could fare useful for any situation.. especially annoying Gwen. The cousins were tasked to work together on setting up camp, and knowing them, things would only take a turn for the worse. Littered across the campsite were pinewood not yet built into a campfire and tents left unpitched- all because the two were too busy squabbling. 

"...What part of "pitch a tent" do you not understand, bonehead!?" Gwen nagged, hands on hips. 

"Grandpa said that was your job! Remind me who helped gather the firewood earlier?" 

"Four-Arms." she chided. "It's not fair! You get to go hero and I've gotta do everything myself!" Just as fate had intended, the Omnitrix sparked green once again, and Ben gave a mischievous grin, making the redhead want to swallow her words. 

"Oh, I'll have fun showing you what else he can do!" He wiggled his fingers, pressing the watch dial down. In a flash of quick metamorphosis, the boy emerged as- 

"CANNONBOLT!?"  

"Hah! Please. Like that thing can pitch a tent." 

Ben, disappointed with the form he had taken, looked down at his radish-like feet, then back up at his armor plated shoulders- then his fluffy claws... and a devious idea hatched in his spherical head. Grabbing Gwen, Cannonbolt curled up halfway, and though she couldn't see it through her predicament, there was a wide, fanged smirk across his face. 

"AH!! Whatever you're doing, don't even-" 

"Too late! Tickle-tickle tickle tickle-tickle.." His four-pronged claws wormed their way into Gwen's shirt, scribbling and squeezing against her sides while their unbearable fur fluffed against her midsection. Her tummy jerked around as she writhed and threw her head back. 

"Ggg-rr-HHH!!-Hh-HAHAHA-hahahEEEEK! Eeee- Sss-HH-Stoppit! Put me dOHOWN!" 

"Hmm... no. Unless.." Laying on his plated shell, Cannonbolt remained nonchalant as Gwen squealed, cackled and bargained. He upped the ante, lightly tracing over her navel and going over her shirt to poke at every individual rib while she was held snug in a bear-hug. "You let me go hero." 

"Nnnnn-NEHE-Never!" Fighting the press of its claws, Gwen put up a fight- only urging Ben to further egg her on. Bad idea. 

"Well, in that case..." A barrage of quick, spiderlike claw-movements were skidding and skittering around Gwen's tummy. The pine forest clearing around them were as much as a wreck for once, and a familiar voice boomed from within the trees louder than her laughter. 

"Benjamin. Kirby. Tennyson." Grandpa Max scolded. Gwen and Cannonbolt stood like deer in headlights, darting their eyes along the mangled campsite. At least there was someone who could keep Ben in check.

Nothing in the Rustbucket worked like it was supposed to. Flushing the toilet was a three-man effort, the oven would start sparking when the stove was on, and most inconveniently, opening the fridge cut the air conditioning- which was left running as the Tennysons trekked back from a strenuous hike at the Grand Canyon, and to their dismay, Ben and Gwen were greeted by a snail trail of melted ice-cream stretching from the faulty fridge.

“Aw, man! That was our only real food!” Ben whined, wiping his brow, standing at the puddle like it was blood at a crime scene. Gwen stood next to him, equally distraught, as the chunks of cookies and cream barely reached their shoes.

“Yeah, if only SOMEONE didn't leave the AC on!” she snapped.

"Oh, that's an easy fix. A little Grey Matter'll work wonders!” The tiny trooper jumped up onto the kitchenette’s counter, over the stove and made a springy leap up to the top of the fridge and launched himself toward the dusty air vent. Incessantly technobabbling to himself, Gwen looked up with a little too much faith in him. 

"You know, I think this is one of the only good ideas you've had all summer.." 

Grey Matter crawled, slimy hands soldering wires to the best of its abilities. Almost there. Wiping out gunk from crevices without breaking a sweat, his sagacity was paying off well.

“I think it’s working!” exclaimed Gwen, a moment too soon.

“Just a clean around the filter, and..” Red light creeped through the vent as a low jitter signaled the Omnitrix’s cooldown. There was a thud- and Ben’s lower half stuck out through the roof, leaving the air conditioner in worse condition. 

"-Unf! Oooowww!!" 

Stuck in the vent from his shoulders up, he could do nothing but kick and flail- as Gwen erupted in mocking laughter. 

"Hey, hey! Help! Seriously! Stop laughing and let me down! Ugh, I'm telling on you!" Ben whined and kicked at Gwen's face, unaware. 

"Oh, I'll help you down, alright.." Her smug smirk, one of pure, unadulterated childlike mischief, was out of sight, which left Ben oblivious to the assault that was to come. Yanking his shoes off with a struggle, and swiftly, her shifting fingers swooped along his socked feet.  This was so worth losing an entire tub of ice cream.

"WAIT!!- Nnng- heh-HUH-hahaha-Whahaha-what gi-HI-hihives!?" 

"I'm just helping you down, what's with the attitude? Do you want to spend the rest of summer vacation with your head up a vent like an ostrich!?" Gwen played dumb, almost-reluctantly sliding off Ben's left sock, nimble fingers flossing through toes, ringing unrelenting laughter. 

"Ggh-HAH-haha-HA!! Stohop making f-huhun of me!" With each trace at the arch and dig at the toes, his face flushed from above. Gripping desperately onto the roof, he thrashed, threatening to crash on the carpet. 

"I bet there's a spell in here somewhere.." pondered Gwen. 

"nn-NNN-PLEAHASENO!" In fear of the mere suggestion, Ben fell facefirst into the confection on the carpet. Holding back giggles, Gwen walked away as he grumbled. 

They wouldn't be getting any cool air for days.

"G-AAAAAAH!!" 

A failed leap of faith sent Gwen, donning the Lucky Girl mask, careening down the Seattle Space Needle hopelessly, just barely escaping Charmcaster and her bag of tricks. Her own hero exploits were as infrequent as they were dangerous- which was why, for safety's sake, she would be frequently accompanied by Ben.

"huh-huh-Phew..-whoo-.." 

As her arms flailed in an ostrichlike attempt in flight, Stinkfly's gangly hands had grabbed her mid-air, a light buzz coming from his insectoid wings. Gwen was safe and sound- but his putrid smell couldn't escape her. 

"I really saved your butt there, didn't I?" his phlegmy voice reverbrated, Charmcaster's flying golems hot on their trail. They weren't any trouble- they were easily apprehended by the goop from his eyestalks. 

"Yeah, but you really didn't need to smell like one! Now, hurry!" As they lost the evil enchantress, Gwen sassed and the duo flew toward the Rustbucket. Manoeuvreing over buildings with beating wings and showing off to onlookers, Ben was taking his sweet time for someone she told to hurry.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "What part of hurry don't you under-ST-eEK! " With a mischievous smirk, Stinkfly's legs reached over to poke at Gwen's middle- exposed from the wind blowing against her costume. Letting go of one arm, its brittle claw wormed (insect pun) into her armpit.

 "Ahaha-HA! Y-yooo-you-hoo-hoo STINK!" she bucked. 

"I know!" Keeping it up, two legs squeezed at the midriff like dough, while another set prodded at her ribs. "Not so lucky, are you now? Are you?" Even in a repulsive form, Ben still couldn't help but boast. 

"Ghh-AHAHA-Heh-sto-STAHAHAP!" Gwen cackled. Fortunately, he heeded her demand- but only when they noticed Charmcaster, brandishing her magical bag behind them. Glowing red, the Omnitrix cooled down. Trouble. 

"Looks like Lucky Girl has a weakness!.." she cooed. "And, oh, would you look at that! I have just the thing.." As wriggly, teasing stone hands flew towards Gwen, she couldn't help but grumble under her breath. Cousins.

(I ran out of "good" aliens.)

(also Gwendolyn's design is just so fucking good I literally love it for reasons I can't explain)

Another time adventure was the perfect opportunity to whisk Ben and Gwen away from a lunch of fried grasshoppers. Though their presence would cause many, many timeline discrepancies, they were the key to thwarting a major anomaly in Ben 10,000's way ..but their importance wouldn't stop the two from running amok in his headquarters. The two marveled at their own accomplishments, their egoes only expanding in the process. 

"Woah! I get to learn more spells?" Gwen leafed through collections of magical runes, unusually eager. A slew of scrolls rolled off onto the metallic floor making a mess. "And that's my black belt!" 

"Another hoverboard? Oh-ho-HO, check it out!" Pushing buttons and flipping switches they shouldn't have, the cousins made a mess of the tall tower- and it wasn't long before their future selves stepped up from the elevator doors, glaring dourly. 

"What have we told you two about not touching anything?" reprimanded the older Ben. "That was a present from New Petropia!" 

"You too, Gwen." Gwendolyn deadpanned. "You know, I'd think us- you out of all people would know better." 

"Ugh, jeez! Guess you're still no fun.." The ten-year-old Ben rolled his eyes, blowing a raspberry at his elder- who exchanged a sly, knowing smirk with Gwendolyn.

"Well, we do know a thing or two about fun..." In the blink of an eye, Future-Ben went Four-Arms, holding his younger self up by the wrists with his first pair of arms. Gwendolyn straddled the latter cousin's legs with a wry smile. 

"Consider this revenge." she teased, baring her long nails at Gwen, tracing, scribbling and spidering over her sides. Four-Arms, bigger and more rugged than he was in the past, dug into Ben's ribcage and armpits, just harsh enough to be unbearably soft. 

"Wha-What are you- Wait! No! We're really so-HORRY! Ah! Haha-hah-heh-HA!" Gwen pleaded through laughter, throwing her head back as her older self dug into her armpits while she thrashed with every touch. 

"Ple-HEASE! I'm -huh- not gonna-ha-ha- touch yo-hour stuff! You're gonna KI-HEHE-HILL ME!" 

"No use bargaining, shrimp." Changing form, a (new!) agile simian alien emerged and webbed Ben up. "I call him Spidermonkey." Its tail yanked his shoes off, and eight fluffy fingers spidered over his soles. Hitting the floor, he thrashed in silky bonds as one of many new forms exploited weaknesses that he himself knew better than anyone. 

"Just s-huh-SE-hehend us to the Null Vo-hoi-d ahat thi-his point!" 

"We're just getting started! I've got 9,998 heroes left!" 

"You know, Gwen.. great point earlier. I did get to learn more spells. Esthesio Pluma!" The younger redhead gulped, preparing for the worst. Fluffy feathers descended out of nowhere, flitting and floating at the flick of Gwendolyn's wrist. They ghosted over her stomach, telekinetically flying into her shirt to fluff at her belly button. The other plumes brushed over her neck in slow methodical fashion, and into her armpits. 

"AH-hehe-HEH-hehehe! Lemme GO-hoho! You've behehe-heen through this!" Gwen reasoned, attempting to swat away the feathers, curling up into a kicky ball. 

"Should we let up?" Nonchalantly, the older Ben rasped whilst running around in XLR8's form, waggling his tail quickly over his younger self's stomach while his claws targeted multiple spots simultaneously.  

"We don't want us to suffer forever.." Gwendolyn assured, relinquishing control of the floating feathers. As quickly as he started, XLR8 stopped, reverting back into Ben. The past-cousins had a moment to catch their winded breath before getting back on their feet. 

"-huff- I'll get me back someday.. Maybe.. now!" Just as Ben was about to slam his watch, his future self poked him on the stomach. "-y-IEEK!" 

"If you tried, we'd know." she jeered. 

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

and that's the end of that! damn, that last one was long. back to requests!

[bruisedboys]

looking after hobie brown with a split lip and an almost black eye and he won’t stop touching you. it’s extremely distracting and you’d tell him so but you’d hate to see the look on his face when you admit he’s flustering you. so you let him be and scrub at the stream of blood trailing from his lip to his chin. you shuffle up his lap (yeah, you’re in his lap, and what about it? he was the one who put you here. he hadn’t given you much of a choice. insisted it was easier to reach and pulled you into him before you could protest) to get a better angle and his fingers press harder into your hips, his grip on you tightening as he tugs you up his lap, somewhat helpfully. you try to ignore the way it makes you feel. the way you’re now practically chest to chest and he can probably hear your heartbeat, it’s so damn loud.

and then, the very tips of his fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt and brush your warm skin, and you decide you just can’t take it anymore.

“hobie,” you chide, soft and entirely too flustered.

“what?” he says back, dripping with ignorance, and you’d think he was genuinely clueless if you didn’t know him so well. he pushes his hand further up your back, his rough calloused fingers practically burning a mark on your already hot skin.

“quit it”, you say, though you don’t sound very convincing at all.

“quit what, babe?” hobie presses his palm to the small of your back, forcing you ever so closer. you gasp, pressed up against him, your hands braced on his shoulders, but he only smirks knowingly. “m’only helping you out.”

[hanafubukki]

Summary: General Vanrouge watches a couple dance.

Laughter reached his ears from where he sat.

Joyous and carefree.

From his position, he can see the shadows twirling around each other in what seemed to be a kitchen.

He watched as someone, who had a similar appearance to his own, lifted another up before swinging them into his arms.

Normally, he wouldn’t believe such a being would be related to him in any way.

But magic did not lie, and the one from this fae matched his own.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Sharp magenta met crimson red.

A warning.

Do not ruin this moment.

He wasn’t planning to.

This view before him, spoke of peace and tranquility.

He…didn’t want his hands full of scars and blood to mar such a scene.

He looked away as the two before him kissed.

A nap right now seems like the perfect opportunity.

…but a part of him yearned.

“I was wondering when you would pop up.”

Crimson eyes met his own.

Stubborn. Young. Rebellious.

Someone who didn’t know what life held for him.

Lilia kind of pitied his younger self, but knew saying such might lead to an altercation.

Which generally he wouldn’t mind at all, it would be amusing to compare his strengths now to back then.

But he didn’t want the risk of waking you and the others up. He already had to talk down Malleus from accompanying him.

“You’re with a…human.”

Lilia held back a laugh, “That’s for you to find out.”

The General before him bristled before sighing. It seems he knew it was a losing battle to try and get any information out of him.

“Listen up you!”

The sharp glare sent his way had him smirking.

“Never let this moment go. What you see now? This is the future you can look forward to. Come what may, hold on and do not let go.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

“Come General~ You and I both know magic never lies.”

The General looked away. How amusing. He was pouting. Lilia itched to tease him more.

“Are…you happy?”

Ah. The question he always held in and never spoke nor showed back during his days as the Phantom General.

“Yes. More than you can imagine.”

Lilia can see the yearning his younger self held deep within as he looked towards where his family stayed.

You’ll know happiness. You’ll experience it yourself. It will take years of pain and suffering, but it will be worth it.

“You have much to look forward to.”

General Vanrouge straightened his stance, a new shine in his eyes.

Good. It will serve him well in his journey.

“I didn’t know I would become so sappy.”

“Kufufu~ That’s what love does to a fae. It changes you.”

The face the General made had him almost bending over in laughter.

Ah yes, he remembers this phase of his. The General has so much to learn…to acknowledge. Some of which even he didn’t learn until many years ago.

During a certain event at Night Raven College, but he wasn’t going to tell him that.

Seeing his past self, Lilia ached to go back to his family. Back to their warmth.

For now, though, he waited with a version of himself he hadn’t seen in a long while. One, that he would once upon a time run away from.

But now?

He had long ago acknowledged this side of himself, for it was this version of himself that led him to his current happiness. That led him to his loves.

And he couldn’t be more grateful.

The past and future stood side by side, basking in this tranquility, enjoying what will come and what currently is.

Bonus:

“Why do you look like that.”

“Hey! I look cute!”

I felt so soft and in love when writing this 🥹🥹🥰

(I feel like I wrote a part of my soul into this 🥰💞)

[anilovie]

the parroting one made me imagine how he hard he’d tease you when he fucks you dumb until you cannot think of any words. he kept throwing you dirty questions he knows you cant answer and just lightly mock it. I cant think of the question but the mocking would sound like,

“yeah, baby? can’t hear you clearly..”

“mmhm? I don’t know baby, I guess I agree?” with his evil low chuckles ajjdowjsns

he’d shove your face in the pillows and then purposefully scold you like, “gotta speak louder, baby, don’t know what you want from me unless you tell me..” but you can’t say anything between his violent thrusts and the pillows choking you up.

or he’ll have you pulled up to him, back again his chest, grinding into your poor cunt so deep and hard you can barely breathe— and you’re crying, reaching behind to scrabble at his abs, his hips, trying to get him to slow down a little , but he’d just wrangle your arms across your chest with one of his own, the fingers of his metal arm clamping over your mouth, hissing “shhh— use your words, honey, ‘ts not that hard.” you’d whine in defeat, and he’d kiss your neck all sweet and soft like he’s not mixing your guts up below, and coo the same sound back to , followed by “aww, it’s too much, isn’t it? but you can take it, can’t you? won’t you? for me?”

another pitiful sound follows a particularly deep thrust, grinding hard into the walls of your cunt. your nails dig into anakin’s forearms, holding you still, and he breathily chuckles in your ear. “I take that as a yes?”

thanks for the message! 🧡

[camthecatchameleon]

i offer no further context for this

[1650-1793-1941]

Aziraphale had always been able to feel when a place was loved. As an angel, love was very much in his remit. Often it was just a sense of warmth in a local coffee shop, or the infusion of countless weddings into the stone walls of a church keeping damp at bay. Tadfield had been a special case, Adam’s love for the place multiplying the feeling to almost unfathomable levels, but every close-knit village across the country hummed with a similar, albeit it far subtler, joy.

It was therefore not particularly strange to settle into the Bentley, reading himself for the drive to Edinburgh, and feel a wave of love from the vehicle. Crowley had loved the car for ninety years. That kind of attachment couldn’t possibly not leave a mark. Usually when Aziraphale was in the Bentley, he was sitting beside Crowley, whose terrible emotion processing skills worked hard to suppress the feelings, but now Aziraphale was alone he could tell the car was so clearly cherished. He couldn’t help but smile, running his hands over the leather of the steering wheel to reassure the car that he’d take good care of it, because it clearly mattered to Crowley so deeply.

It was thirty miles out of London that Aziraphale started to become aware that there was something slightly different about the love infused into the Bentley. Usually it went one way, a place was loved but it couldn’t really love back. The car, however, seemed almost fond of him. It played classical musical when Aziraphale asked it nicely, the horn honked merrily rather than with the aggression Crowley usually forced from it on the rare occasions he thought it worth using at all. The travel sweets and the new yellow detailing, the comfortable and warm leather seats, the safe driving speed – Aziraphale could feel the Bentley desperate to please him.

It was only after Crowley checked in through the radio that Aziraphale realised what was going on. It seemed mad to even think it, but it was the only logical answer. Crowley’s love, not just for the Bentley but for Aziraphale specifically, was laced into the fabric of the car, so strongly it was echoing back. He would never have believed it, but the same feeling he got from the car was threaded under Crowley’s words. He might have complained about the yellow paint and the travel sweets, but really he was checking in to make sure Aziraphale was alright. After millennia of existing together, Aziraphale had learnt to read between the lines. So when Crowley asked him to drive faster, he knew that didn’t mean put yourself in danger to get my car back to me quicker, it meant get yourself back to me as fast as possible, because I feel better when I know you’re safe. Aziraphale knew better than to point it out, but he also wasn’t going to protest – he loved a good caper, but he knew he’d also feel better when he was back at the bookshop. Back with Crowley.

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

[starstruckspocks]

jon?

Something is different, but he cannot be quite sure what, exactly.

Everything is… more linear than it was Before. He still Knows, quite in a way like he did Before, but it is finite, clear, manmade. It does not come from fear, but curiosity. A wide web of knowledge, rattling around in the dark of him, and what even is dark to a thing that cannot perceive it? A lack, perhaps, an unbeing, a noticable absence where there should be merely an ordinary kind of nothing.

He has a voice. And there is something he desperately, desperately needs to say, but there are no words that are his own, and every sentence he speaks he borrows, and they are each one of them painted with fear and confusion and loneliness and huntedness and a watchful eye.

He is also not alone, never alone. There are voices all around him, nice ones, chatting, making tea, fighting, changing, and only some voices stay the same, have been the same since… well, since when? Since when has he been… like this? It gets hard to think like this, sometimes – to assign a point in time to a moment and to file them away together. A collection of information, disorganised, lost, confused, perhaps deliberately so. It feels achingly familiar.

And sometimes, he hears something like himself speak in a different voice, even when he does not talk. And even though the words are borrowed too, taken from throats and fingers to be forgotten, they feel like coming home, simply because they were said in that soft, cruel tone. A familiar melody, slipping through wires and speakers and programmes like it was made for this, but it wasn’t, was it? It might’ve been.

And this brings him comfort, of course it does, except he must be trapped, right? Because why can he not say his own words, when he has so many of them? He is not lonely, but he is alone with the thoughts he cannot voice, the words that have no mouth, the things that cannot be said. It hasn't always been like that, has it?

Something is different Now from how it was Before, at least. He Knows everything, but he knows nothing of truth, and knows nothing at all, but the difference to What Was seems clear, in a clumsy, calculated way. Something is hiding, quite badly, behind a blurred vision that he does not have, behind lines of numbers and letters, running for its life through old wires. He knows it lingers, he knows it is there. He just cannot make it out quite yet.

[haztory]

sorry for being absent literally always, but i had to get this out of my drafts.

goddess!reader x mortal!bakugou; warnings: blood, mentions of sex, murder, unhappy relationships, unhinged reader and bakugou (tiny bit), not beta’d

(w.c. 2.1k)

Rapacious, your father would call you were he to see you now. Salacious, acting in behavior once thought deterred; The kind that he meant to have stamped out of you in an effort to cultivate you into the pious cog in of his senseless grandeur. His promise of destiny. 

Your father’s lips would be turned in that virtuous frown, eyes narrowed as he sat from his throne in the great pantheon of Gods. Validated by their fealty. The model figure that is woefully negligent as he speaks of the sanctity of commandments that have seen his betrayal one too many times before. Sanctimonious in his rectitude, righteous in his hypocrisy, your father is.

He meant to cage you, raging at your freedom and its significance—angry that you were wild, changing the tides of human wars with the gentlest of smiles and lulling whispers; Rampaging that fellow Gods, his own brothers, were victim to the whims of your games with the mortals; Furious that the power you wielded began to rival that of his own; Murderous that you were too much like him: untamed, greedy, victorious and still, adored. 

You have never known his anger to be long-lasting, especially not in a manner of great meaning when you could falsely promise your way out of it. Batting eyelashes in truce—but, this is beyond punishment for the defiance of a rule. He means to break you. 

A husband. 

One bound to you without your consultation, much less knowledge. Promised in hand and divinity to be half of a whole to this pitiful excuse of God. 

There was hardly an expectation of satisfaction within the marriage on a good day, much less pleasure in the ways that physically mattered; Could such a thing ever truly be expected from a man who only knew how to hammer metal? Up, down, up, down until the glowing steel was forged.

Your husband is a man of great fortitude, who knows and will only know that of the fire he works with. The flames reflected in the dullness of his irises being the only exciting thing about him. He is monotonous within his construction. Routined and boring. 

How could there ever be the expectation of fidelity from you, the Goddess of Love? 

How could you be shackled to the bedside of a man who has never known the strength of the sea from which you are born? How can you love a man who does not know the impact of the tide and draws no desire from its power? How can you be with a man who does not know and adore you as you are? For a millenia, nonetheless! 

You've come to know of this arrangement as a curse; A woeful attempt to tame you from the wild and lustful by forcing you to make acquaintance with the bland and boring. Binding you to the shore, never to make acquaintance with the push and pull of the forceful nature. 

Credit must be paid your way. You had tried. In the depths of shame and sorrow, you tried to do as your brothers and sisters and settle. Gave in and let yourself  believe that love and happiness could be found within routine, eventually. It is your novelty, after all. And yet, it still finds you. This yearning for more, the urge to love and be loved. Your nature still rises from the swaying tide and dares to edge the coast. 

Your father would not approve were he to see you now, watching from your high plane in the heavens to the happenings of the mortal world. Surely, your husband would violently disapprove too, convinced that he has you loyal. 

You shouldn’t fixate; Had promised in low lights and empty words in your husband’s grimy embrace that you have seen the errors of your ways; That you have and will change. For his sake. But he does not know what happens when he is away in his cave of brimstone. 

Your attention is caught. And the object of your fascination is a marvel.

Sculpted from clay himself, you have half a mind to believe that one of your siblings has had a part in his creation. Broad and muscular, sharp and angular in all the places that deem him a man. This mortal has caught your eye since his ascension from boy to man. He is a village soldier. Fiercely protective and eager for a fight, and yet always looking to the heavens. As though there was something there waiting for him, beckoning him closer. You suppose he isn’t wrong, as you peer down to him just as he looks up. 

There have been whispers of his fate amongst the crowds since he was a boy, certainty issued in his great destiny.  No one is more sure of it than he. 

Which may be what finds him in your temple. 

Sanctuaries have never known themselves to be exclusive, but you must admit that it is certainly strange to have a man of his designation pray to the Goddess of Love. Surely he must have found some alignment more towards that of your stoic sister, emboldened by the desire for courage and brawn. And yet he is here, treading the halls in the stillness of night and giving small offerings to each of your priestesses and holding one large offering basket for your statue.

He stands beneath the colonnade, staring pensively at the intricate designs of your image on marble. He speaks only when the room has been cleared, the priestesses giving him the space to pray in solace.

“I hear you.” His timbre is gruff yet smooth. Commanding as it echoes. “You are calling to me.”

You remain still, almost taken aback at his forwardness. The waves of temptation creep at your feet. 

“I intend to find you, whether you show yourself or not.” He speaks again. He looks up, and although you know it improbable, you swear eyes of vermillion have pinpointed your location in the sky. And so, it comes crashing.

It has been so long since you have last appeared before a mortal, and appearing before him transcends all relatability. To see the fixation, your desire, and to have him see you. If he is surprised by your arrival, he doesn’t show it. Eyes strong in their stoic gaze, lips almost curled in a sneer. One would think you were his enemy, but you know such a charge to be false. It’s a charge of electricity, the cooling nighttime air suddenly warming at the meeting of your gaze. 

He is no enemy to you, and you are certainly no stranger to him.

“No one has ever commanded me so directly. How did you know?” You ask. of genuine curiosity.

“I dream of you.” He says the answer so plainly, as though it were a common occurrence. You can’t help but raise a brow. 

“Oh?” 

“I have for years. It was only a matter of time before you showed yourself.”

The chains forged by your husband suddenly feel the lightest that they have ever felt. Metal rattling against each other, pushing and pulling as something brews within you. You wonder what this mortal thinks of you. If he finds you as beautiful as you find him; If the power within him is as strong as you think it is. 

If he is strong enough to cut through steel.

“And what did you dream of?” You ask, taking a step forward. Feeling elation fill you like the swirling breeze as his eyes quickly watch you step forward.

“Tch. Like you don’t know.” His jaw flexes and with it comes the bloom of a subtle blush on his cheeks. “Didn’t you plant the damn things?” 

No, you didn’t. You could certainly look to see what it is he dreamed of, but this is more fun. Finally, finally, you feel the remnants of yourself pulse alive. 

“Have you come to give me a greater purpose?” He asks quickly, in diversion. You let him, too satisfied with the newfound freedom to care much about his attempt at modesty. 

You step closer to him, watching as his eyes cascade down the sheer chiton adorning your body. “Is that what I did in your dreams? Fill you with purpose?”

You find yourself almost chest to chest with him, his eyes never leaving yours, “Or did you fill me?”

You laugh when his eyes widen, turning to take a chocolate from the offering basket held still in his hands and plopping it into your mouth. Marveling at its taste, deciding that it must be homemade.  “Is that what you are in search for? A greater purpose? How about a culinary artist? Your skills are impeccable.”

He doesn’t laugh. “I am destined for more.” 

He knows he is. You know he is. Have not eyed him for so long to have not known. He stands firm before you, a soldier waiting for instruction. In any other instance you would rebuke such a stand, revolt at the rigid and serious, and yet with him—

Well, in devotion to you, who can fault you for testing its limits? Especially when there is something that has sat within you, waiting for the opportune moment. 

You meet his gaze, deciding to no longer tease. “How much more?”

“Anything you will give me.” He quickly responds. 

“And this destiny you seek, do you do it for pride or service?”

“I am your loyal follower and patron, Goddess Divine. What I do is for you.”

“A man like you, patron to me. How lucky am I?” You smile, but it is quickly assumed by the sneaking tendrils of your dark desire. Your voice stills, “The task I have for you is very arduous. Unyielding, difficult, and not aimed for the weak. Destiny setting, to be sure.”

The man seems to preen at those words, a smile finally finding its way to his face. It curls, dangerously, hungrily. “Name it.”

“Once it is spoken, it cannot be undone.” You warn.

“The task is mine alone.” He insists.

You find yourself before him again, and he leans in to listen closely. You can sense the fight in him, smell his musk. The promised freedom teeters on the edge of your words. 

“...kill Hephaestus. Free me from the shackles of my constricting punishment.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t balk, doesn’t shy away from the treasonous words. He does as you have seen him do and stands firm, almost vibrates with his desire to act. 

You can almost feel the brush of the sea on your skin again. 

“And my reward?” He asks, confidently.

“Is my eternal patronage and favor not enough?” You laugh, eased in his presence rather than tight at the admittance of your evil. Circling around him, you drag your finger across the broadness of his bare and unmarred shoulders. You wonder if the purity of his skin is a reflection of his valiance. Wonder if your desires are steered correctly, that he is the one to have the strength to carry him to victory. 

He glances to you over his shoulder, “Surely, the Goddess has more in plan for the man set to kill her husband than bragging rights?”

Curiosity clouded with the tendrils of lust at the man who holds your fate in his hands, you place your chin on his shoulder, meeting his vermillion gaze as your nose scarcely brushes the smooth expanse of his sculptured chin. Intimacy with a man who isn’t your husband, intimacy that is natural and wanted rather than forced.

“Cheeky.” You murmur, and his grin widens. A veil of clouded air blurs his vision before you reappear in front of him, your weight placed onto him as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Bring me the head of my oppressor,” You begin, said so airily it could be mistaken as a light conversation rather than a plot for murder, “And I will make you a God in his place. Meant to enact your own destiny, made to rule beside me.”

You lean your forehead closer, meeting him as your noses brush in meeting. Tracing one another, you whisper, “Can you do it?”

Without hesitation, he breathes into you. “I am yours, Goddess Divine.”

“And your name, O Great Warrior?”

“Bakugou.” A storm brews mightily in his irises and you can taste the salt of the spray, feel the ocean beckoning you home. 

Your release from the cage is so close to the touch, the hilt of the sword dealing the victory blow to your freedom held by him. 

You smile, wide, and true, and lustful for blood. “A fitting name for a God.” 

It comes as no great surprise when the mortal appears at your temple a few weeks later. He is limping through marbled halls and dripping with blood, the key to your cage held in his hands. Your husband's severed head held by his bloodied and mangled fingers, a wicked smile on his face as he beckons you down from the heavens. You find yourself once again, marveling.

And finally, in love.

[ancientschampionau]

RealAgeAU drabble - Moving

Hello I am back and I got another idea for this little silly au that I have @spotaus to thank for for the original idea :3 Though I think this may be officially becoming one of my AUs hahahaha First part Prev Part Next part

Also yes. I know it would work better to number these uploads but also i am not writing these in any set order so it will become miserable for all of us if i number them because either they will be out of order or I will have to rework all the names and I am already editing links I don't need that extra energy in my life.

ANYWAY! :D

Next part! The one I lovingly clal in my head - The one where the gang finds a more permanent temporary home. (also yes. Before this they all speed-run the whole Parental bonding and emotional bonding to the idea of having a babybones. Which honestly can and probably will make four different drabbles)

-------

Horror stares at the door and wonders once again how he got to this point.

Well, no. That is a lie. He knows exactly how he got to his point.

He glances over his shoulder where the other four at hiding off to the side. Out of view from the doorway but still visable for Horror if he looks just right. Seems like Dust won the discussion, again, and is holding Nightmare, again.

Horror wants to say it is surprising how quickly they all just... accepted the situation they got into but he really isn't. Monsters are weird like that. Forced adoption is not that wild all things considered when you are talking about beings made of magic and emotions.

Horror stares at the door and raises his hand before knocking twice.

He really hadn't wanted to do this but they have no other choice. As he waits he can't help but think back to what made them decide this.

Cross walks from side to side "That was way to close! That was the third time we came across the Stars with Nightmare out. Third!"

Killer nods from where he is sitting wiht the sleeping Nightmare in his lap "Yeah no kidding. It is annoying as shit that they are hunting us."

Dust shrugs "Not surprising. Nightmare 'disappeared' after all. We are their only lead."

Killer grins "We were lucky Cross managed to lie his way out of the last one." and he shoots Cross a wink.

Cross sputters "I panicked!"

Killer grins and winks "Sure sure daddy crossy."

Horror holds up his hands between his two... co-parents "This is not the time. We need to figure out where we can go." and he thinks things over.

Cross sighs "I don't get how they keep finding us!"

Dust huffs as he packs their bags "We go to too little universes. Makes it easy for Ink and Dream to pick us out because they recognise us personally."

Killer frowns "Meaning. we need a big universe?" he taps his chin "But also mostly positive as we still don't know how obvious Nightmare would be otherwise."

Cross frowns "I think it will be fine. He can't feel the balance anymore right? And no one seems to have a reaction to him like they had before nor how people have a reaction to Dream's aura thing. Maybe with the corruption gone he really is just... ex-guardian now?"

Killer groans "I hope so. I am not a fan of child labor."

That is when it hits him. Horror sits up "I think I know a place."

All of them turn to him and he immediantly regrets saying anything. See? This is why he normally tries to limit what he says.

Either way. Here they are now and Horror prays this works. Please. They need one thing to work in their favor.

The door opens and a gasp "Horror! It has been ages! It is great to see you. How have you been?" Crop smiles at him.

Horror steels his nerves. Come on. Too much hangs on this moment "Hey Crop. Nice to see you. I am... okay. How are you?"

Crop frowns at him instantly "You sure? You don't sound okay. Trouble at home?"

Horror chuckles "Kinda? Not exactly. Euh... Can't go back to that place now?"

Crop frowns "Why? Need a place to stay? I got a spare room."

Okay yes! this is going great! just... gotta make sure he knows.

Horror nods "I do need a room. Not just for me though..." Crop starts to frown and Horror raises his hands "Just temporarily!"

Crop frowns "Did... something go wrong?"

Horror pauses and thinks this through once more. He trusts Crop. Crop has never been anything but kind even when Horror had been an ass. Even when he had to once drag Dust here to get healing before they could make the jump back home.

Horror looks to the side and he sees the others just beyond the treeline, hidden in shadows and waiting. Crop takes a look as well but he can't quite spot them. Crop looks back up at him.

Horror takes a deep breath "You need... to promise me, no not just promise you need to swear. That what you are about to learn will not leave this universe."

Crop frowns as he immediantly looks uncomfortable. It is the reaction a promise gets from most of them. But Crop also shoots him a considering look before he nods. He holds out a hand "I swear and promise I will not share the about to be giving information. UNLESS! It endangers anyone." and he waits.

Horror stares at the hand and thinks. That... That is fine right? That should be fine. Nightmare being a child doesn't endanger anyone. Only them and Nightmare. Horror nods and shakes the hand.

Crop nods and steps aside "Come inside. I bet you will be more comfortable explaining there." he glances at the forest "Do your... friends? Want to come in too?" a guess clearly. probably on multiple fronts.

Horror shakes his skull "Not yet. Need to know your answer and reaction first." He turns to the forest and makes a signal to wait a bit longer. He sees a thumbs up shot his way back. Probably Killer. He never bothered with the signals they had learned together.

Crop nods as he steps aside and Horror walks in, having to duck slightly for the door. The door closes behind him and Horror sees the small living room with fireplace.

Crop leads him to the kitchen "Lets talk there. I will get some tea."

A few minutes later they are both seated and with a cup of tea. Crop looks at him expectingly.

Horror takes a deep breath and takes out their most valuable resourch. The Dreamtale book. And places it on the table. Crop frowns at it before looking at Horror.

Horror nods to it "It will help explain... Very long story short... Nightmare was never an adult. He was a child with a magical shield of some type. That magic has ran out."

Crop stares at him for a moment, then he pulls the book closer and starts reading it. He pauses at the title before opening it.

And now he waits.

---------

Crop sits wiht his skull in his hands. Horror just sits across from him, with his empty cup of tea. Crop's own cup has grown cold a long time ago. Horror just waits for anymore questions but Crop hasn't said anyhting in the last ten minutes.

Horror looks back at the book and sees that Crop has turned the pages back to the one with the drawing of Nightmare's head being cracked open. The image makes a very clear show on how small Nightmare was compared to the ones attacking him.

Horror still thinks the book doesn't do it justice. Nightmare is much smaller in person than the picture makes him seem. The cracks had been much worse than the picture showed. But it is the closest they got.

Crop finally sighs and speaks. He doesn't look away from the picture "I don't... Know a lot about this whole... multiverse stuff. It isn't my place at all. And that is fine." he pauses for a moment "But this... You are telling me... That the one being that had everyone afraid. That everyone saw as a demon. Is a child... is this child?"

Horror nods before he explains more "Nightmare... gained a lot of magic and powers when he ate those apples. At least that is what the story implied. We haven't managed to get him to tell us yet, mostly because well... he is six again." Crops pulls a face as well, yeah. Horror agrees. A PTSD filled six year old is not easy. But they are managing.

Horror nods "so... What Cross nad Dust think what happened is that... The magic and negativity of the apples bond itself to Nightmare. Which game him the magic and powers he would use. The connection to the balance because the apples were part of the balance. and more importantly, an adult form and mind to fit all the magic. There was just no way all that magic and energy would have fit a babybones. Especially one that hadn't shown much magic beforehand." an assumption on their end as Nightmare was never said to use magic in the book.

"We think... We think that this magic of the apples just. ran out. We had been in battle at the time and Nightmare had been hit but it shouldn't have had that much of an effect. it was the same type of attack he had been hit by before. Dust thinks it was just the last bit of magic that the apples had having run out. Meaning that with the magic and energy so went the form." all a theory of course. But it is the only thing they have.

Crop nods as he clearly thinks "And as he was suddenly an adult. instead of just being afraid and scared. all that pain and emotions took a more violent turn. As he was an adult and was suddenly able to realise that it was unfair which made him angry..." Crop pauses.

Crop glares back at the table and shakes his skull "It is... It is a whole story about victim blaming. A victim is blamed for the abuse they suffered. They are made to believe they deserve it and should be abused. Then as soon as they fight back and defend themselves they are seen as guilty." Crop takes adeep breath as he leans back "What I don't get... Why come here? I can't help with any of this."

Horror shakes his skull "This isn't about any of the big stuff. We don't even care about it. We just... Nightmare is himself again. His real self." he taps the page lightly "Not his aged-up self that the corruption enabled him to be."

Crop stares before his face changes to shock "You are trying to hide him." Then a frown "Why not go to your own home? Has it been compromised?"

Horror snorts "At this point? probably." a confused look and Horror continues "Nightmare used his magic to shield off an universe and make a castle." he shrugs at the glance "Nightmare likes to read. I imagine he liked to read back then too. He may have been an adult technically but he was still a child at soul. Child him wanted a home and wanted that to be a castle and adult him made it happen... probably... that is Killer's theory at the moment."

Crop laughs and nods "Suonds reasonable- oh... and with his magic disappearing."

Horror sighs "When I left his universe the castle had already been decaying..."

Crop frowns "Left? The five of you you mean?"

Horror looks to the side and feels the shame return "We.... we did not react well... when we saw the changes at first... we... we obviously dind't know what was going on and well." he looks down "We abandoned him. I know it was wrong and stupid and we all regret it. We came back but we still did it." shame.

shame shame shame shame shame shame shame-

A hand on his shoulder. Horror glances up and Crop smiles at him "It is okay. You are trying to fix it now right? obviously. Not cool that you abandoned a child... but it can be nerve wrecking. Suddenly going from a position where a person is mostly guiding you, to going to a position where you suddenly are responsible over that same person."

Horror looks to the side "We still left." he can't believe they just left!

Crop nods "But you returned." he grins "And you are trying to fix it."

Horror nods again "We are..." he chuckles "Not that we have been doing a good job at it. Jumping from place to place."

Crop hums "So you are looking to settle, at least for a little bit, while also hidding. Why this universe?"

Horror nods "Yeah..." He looks to the side "We... we don't know how everyone will react. To him being like this. Maybe they will react well. Maybe not. We don't want to risk it. Risk him."

Crop stares at him for a long time and nods "There must be better places?"

Horror shakes his skull "The Stars kept finding us. Dust figured out we needed a big universe that leans towards positive. Yours is one of those. It is one of the wider and bigger ones. And overall leaning towards positive."

Crop frowns "It can't be the best one..."

Horror shrugs but continues "True... there are bigger and more positive ones. But those are busy. Many people. many places. Yours is quieter. more empty. Gives peace and room to work from."

Crop frowns as he taps his chin. He thinks deeply before sighing "You guys got any type of backstory we can use? The multiverse thing isn't a known thing here and the only reason my brother and I know is because you crash landed here."

Horror blinks "You will let us stay?"

Crop nods "Sure." and he grins "Can't kick out four parents with a babybones." and he gets up.

Horrro shakes his skull "That isn't... Well I mean technically." He knows that Killer has come close to killing quite a few people with how protective he has grown over Nightmare and that isn't even including the motherhenning of Cross nor the clinginess that Dust has.

Crop chuckles as he nods towards the stairs "The attic is messy and should be cleaned but can be used by you four, well five. There is an old bed and an old lounge chair up there." more thoughtful "How big is he exactly? we will need some clothes. Probably also get a healer to check him if he is developing okay after all those magical shenanigans."

Horror stares for a moment before smiling "Thank you... I know it is a lot."

Crop shrugs as he opens the linnen closet "Horror. Taking care of milking all the cows on your own is a lot. Having to fix your roof in the middle of a thunderstorm is a lot." He straightens his spine with blankets in his arms "Helping a friend and his friends who have somehow aqcuired a babybones, while strange, does not compare to either of those. Now get your friends out of those woods. They will make the animals nervous." he grins "I am excited to be one of the first ones to meet the real Nightmare."

Horror smiles as he packs his book and goes towards the door. "Thanks again Crop."

Crop waves it off as he moves the piles upstairs.

-------

Boom! and they are staying in FarmTale for now! Horror and Crop are homies and Dust is more of an acquaintance of Crop but it works. Aged-up Nightmare knew that Horror had an universe he liked to visit but never demanded details. *shrugs* Nightmare didn't see the point. as long as horror wasn't going to betray him what did it matter he didn't tell him?

Surprise Nightmare, this is your temporary home now. For a bit. or maybe longer? They are still figuring it out.

First part Prev Part Next part

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira's office does indeed look completely overgrown, which is apropos to be honest.

There's several notes in here from various people regarding her investigations into the cult and the shadowlands prior to her departure to Last Light. Also a note from the Flaming Fist indicating that Rion and Jord have been helping to "settle street disputes" in a fashion the Fist disapproves of, and a clipping from the Baldur's Mouth Gazette relating to the Beloved Ranger statue (which was actually Minsc) disappearing.

There's a button operated by the pin Tate gave us on the side of her desk; it opens a pathway down into "Jaheira's Hideout" beneath the house.

Whoa.

There are quite a number of these traps set up. The Narrator informs us, on a passed arcana check, that these are attuned to the druid who set them - Jaheira - but that they can be overwhelmed by being hit with the same element.

I trust you implicitly, Jaheira, and also I can't figure out what pressure plate you're talking about. So I hope you're right. XD

At the bottom of the hill is... well, a sort of paradise.

A gorgeous green lagoon rounded with trees and plants and a run-down but sturdy house of wood and thatch. Next to it is a badger, labeled "Postmaster Badger", and several "Messenger Rats."

"The only patch of wilderness this city permits me," Jaheira says wistfully. "There ought to be supplies here to aid us."

"You know this place, Boo?" Minsc says indignantly. "Hmph. Minsc has never been invited."

Everything inside the house is trapped. XD I quicksaved aggressively while disarming everything because I was very afraid of exploding Jaheira's sanctuary by accident.

In disarming the traps, Hector finds a hidden door behind a bookshelf.

Jaheira reaches out and puts a hand on his arm before he can proceed. "Keen eye," she says quietly. "But if it's supplies you seek, weapons to aid in our fight - you won't find them behind that door." He can hear a sudden effort in her voice, one he knows all too well - the struggle against sudden emotion. "There is nothing back there of worth to anyone but me."

Hector looks at her thoughtfully. His curiosity is piqued, certainly, and it is a powerful force on its own - but more than that, he has been fascinated, over this past hour or so, at seeing beneath the brittle shell that Jaheira always presents to the world. "If it matters to you, it matters to me," he says earnestly.

She looks away from him, her eyes flicking rapidly around the room. "On my word," she mutters. "All you will find inside is dust, and the mouldering keepsakes of a much younger woman."

"Jaheira," Minsc rumbles gently. "Our friend has put their trust in us. Boo thinks it only right to return the gesture, no?"

For a moment, Hector thinks she is going to lash out, defensive-- but then she hesitates, and smiles ruefully. "You so rarely make a habit of being right, ranger, that it puts me ill at ease when you are." She sighs, looks back to Hector and nods. "Pass, then. Go on. See what it is a foolish old Harper thinks worth hiding away."

Hector holds himself still for a moment, giving her the chance to change her mind. He is curious, and he welcomes the chance to connect with her here-- but he will not push where he isn't wanted.

When she doesn't object, he leans over and pushes the bookcase aside.

It's an unassuming little area, really - no more than a dirt cave behind the house. A large chest, several display cases and crates and a table covered in scrolls.

-----

The table first, and the scroll on it:

"Rite of the Timeless Body," Hector says thoughtfully. "What's that about? I'd best ask Jaheira."

"I found a strange scroll in your sanctuary. Something about a 'timeless body'?"

She snorts. "The threat of spanking never kept the children from poking through my things. Why should it deter you." She glances at the paper on the table. "It is... a ritual. Or it describes one at least. Practiced by druids of certain esoteric circles. If they be learned and powerful enough, the practitioner of this ritual might slow their aging, extend their life well beyond its natural reach. In greener days, I might have been strong enough to do it. I might be yet, with the right preparations."

Hector blinks. "So you plan to do it?"

Jaheira hesitates, shrugs. "I make no plans. Only... contingencies." She scowls, seeing the expression on his face. "Do not look at me like that. I have been content to see the span of my natural years - a privilege far too few in this world can claim. I do not speak of clinging to life for its own sake. I just... look back on that life's work and I wonder... is it done?"

She lets out a heavy breath and leans against the wall of the building behind them. "The Dead Three plague the world still. The city still falls prey to small minds like Gortash or lost souls like Orin. It is every Harper's hope to be a light that drives out darkness. But I've lived long enough to see so many of those lights burn out, while the shadows cling stubbornly on. Knowing that, isn't it our duty to burn on if we can? To fight for as long as we are able?"

Karlach gives a sudden, sharp laugh at Hector's side. "You're preaching to the doomed choir, ma'am," she says sardonically.

Jaheira smiles sadly. "You've done more than your share of fighting already, Karlach," she says. "If there is one person I would trust to make the most of a longer life, it is you."

Hector knows he shouldn't ask, he knows it isn't fair with Karlach standing right there to hear him... but the words slip out anyway. "Would you live on at any cost?" he asks.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "In truth, I had put this ritual from my mind - until Last Light. Trapped in that darkness, I turned to my research again. What if I was a little stronger? As fast as I once had been?" She shrugs. "Then you came, and made the question moot. But I kept this. Just in case, I told myself. A final resort. Perhaps you were not the savior you seemed. I had learned better than to think of life as some simple tale, after all. There is no guarantee of happy endings, or true heroes."

She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment before going on. "I believe that still. But when I look on all we have achieved since, I wonder... perhaps it is not heroes we need. Only people who are willing to try. I do not know what manner of story that makes. But I do know that, without an ending, it would be no story at all." She gives a short, sharp nod. "So I will accept mine, when and however it comes. As for this city's story, well..." She grins suddenly, pockets the scroll. "Well, that is entirely your problem now, cub."

He smiles slightly. "I'm honored you think of me that way."

"Hah. Do not thank me for slinging a weight around your neck," she says dryly. "I might start to feel bad." She huffs out a breath and shakes her head. "I do mean what I say - but I am also a Harper. In every honeyed word, there is a hook. But I do not plan on going anywhere just yet."

She pauses, and then grins with gallows humor. "And besides, you still have a tadpole in your skull. You are almost certainly going to die first."

Hector doesn't really think that's particularly funny.

-----

(A/N: Time for some incredibly self-indulgent headcanon - in this worldstate and in my particular headcanons for Jaheira post-BG2, you cannot convince me that she didn't obtain the information on that ritual partially for Rasaad, knowing she was going to outlive him by a century and not wanting to face losing another man she loved. Though I think the more altruistic explanations for her wanting it still also applied. (And perhaps Rasaad wouldn't have accepted it anyway even if she'd been able to figure it out.) She does say she put it aside for quite a while, until Last Light. Probably after Rasaad died.)

-----

Throwbacks!

There are two Very Rare quality weapons in the chest opposite the table:

This is a scimitar first found in a haybale near the Druid's Grove outside Trademeet, in Baldur's Gate 2.

This staff is obtained in Watcher's Keep in the Throne of Bhaal expansion. Caden (to my recollection) never went there during my playthrough, but that doesn't mean he didn't while I wasn't paying attention. ;) Cespenar also apparently can upgrade it in the pocket plane.

I miss Cespenar. I hope he's doing well.

-----

Finally, at the back of the room is a slightly dusty-looking display case.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Aw man, c'mon, I just teared up. You can't hit me with a throwback like that and expect me to remain normal.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This is the necklace that Khalid makes for Jaheira (if you help him) in the Siege of Dragonspear expansion between BG1 and BG2. He was incredibly cute about it and talked about how he declared his love for her for the first time. SHE was incredibly cute about it and talked about how lucky she was to have him. The item description was also incredibly cute and talked about how just wearing it revitalized her.

HNNNNGNNNGHHHH I NEED TO GO LIE DOWN.

*quiet wailing*

We can ask her about it further, too.

"About that amulet I found in your house..."

"Oh dear," she says, looking at him warily. "Should I brace myself for some fashion advice?"

She pauses, then sighs. "But I suppose you have earned better than glibness from me. It was a gift from my husband, Khalid."

He can hear the emotion that rockets through her with the single word. He is sure he sounds much the same when he speaks of Karlach.

"He was a Harper," she goes on. Her expression grows distant, lost in memory. "A better one than me, truth be told. Any idiot can swing a sword. But to believe in the cause, with the whole of your heart? A much trickier thing."

She draws a breath and lets it out shakily. "He died. Alone, in pain, and far too young. Murdered by a mage who craved immortality." A muscle works in her cheek. "I'll not grant it by naming him in the same breath as my husband."

[HISTORY] Recall what you know of Khalid.

Narrator: The quiet, unassuming shadow to Jaheira's strength, Khalid was another warrior who helped end the Bhaalspawn crisis. Shortly after, he was murdered by the mad mage Jon Irenicus.

Hector and Jaheira have spoken of this a little before. Jaheira first mentioned him in the context of Karlach's engine, and the impending similar loss that Hector faces himself. In that moment, and in this one, he felt and feels a sudden deep surge of connection with her, a terrible bond that steadies and reassures him even if he wishes neither of them had to bear it. He is not alone, and neither is she. He hopes his presence gives her similar solace.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I hope I didn't bring up any bad memories."

She smiles weakly. "Nothing that wasn't already there, fear not," she says. "But I've lived many lifetimes since Khalid died. You, ah..." She trails off before the slight shiver in her voice can take root and blossom into tears. "You twine your life around the people you love. And when they are gone, you grow around their absence instead. It is just another way they shape you..."

She swallows, then goes on suddenly louder, faster-- "Which is my sage way of saying... I am in no danger of forgetting how my husband died. But I choose to remember how he lived."

(A/N: God, the writing in this game is gorgeous.)

Hector wonders, briefly, what Karlach thinks of this conversation, but he does not dare to look at her, or that same emotion will rise into his own throat and choke him. Instead, he focuses on Jaheira, listening intently. I choose to remember how he lived. "Tell me something about him no one else knows," he says, tone deliberately light.

She gives a slight laugh. "Most Harpers swagger and flash their feathers to catch your attention. Khalid was of a quieter sort," she says. "I have never known a warrior who would go so far out of his way to avoid a fight. Which meant the few he chose were usually the right ones." She pauses, and then laughs again, shakier this time. "And when we were married... on an upturned cart in the rainy Dalelands... he stammered so much, I've never been sure if our vows actually counted."

Hector smiles. "You seem an odd pairing," he says, gently teasing.

Her eyes narrow, taking on a sudden almost playful air. "The druid in me would like to say it was a thing of balance. The younger woman recalls rather more about a fine bottom-- and the habit not to speak unless he had something to say."

This comment is so unexpected that it startles a laugh out of Hector - and he's relieved to hear Karlach laughing too, behind him. Jaheira looks rather pleased with herself at the reaction.

"The songs make much of Khalid's meekness," she goes on after a little while, more seriously. "The quiet little Harper who had to keep a tight hold on his courage. But he had it when it counted. And more than that-- he had compassion. When you live a Harper's life, see all that a Harper sees, that is by far the harder thing to hold onto."

She looks down at the aquamarine pendant in her hands, then slips it around her neck. "But a bard can tell you all the rest," she says, turning away. "As for all the things they cannot... well. I shall just have to keep those for myself."

[messysketchyobeyme]

[Spoilers for Nightbringer]

---

Even as he found himself slowly falling in love with the MC, Solomon always knew to not get his hopes up. You had spent all of your time in the Devildom hanging out, bonding, and healing past trauma with the brothers. There was never a moment in public when there wasn't a demon brother or two joint at your hip.

You had to be in love with at least one of them, right? More often than not, Solomon would walk in on you holding hands with Mammon, napping with Belphegor, or standing a tad closer to Lucifer than necessary. You and the brothers had become such a tight-knit family, that he knew that it was lost cause to try and confess. He already knew what your answer would be.

At least, Solomon thought he knew until you, in the brief moment you were alone with him, reciprocated his feelings. Perhaps it was desperation or the nagging urge to feel another human's connection, but Solomon took that one act and ran with it. He obsessed over the way you had gazed at him with adoration that night.

Solomon had a chance. It was possible that you could find room in your heart to house him. Slowly, Solomon became bolder and more open about his feelings. He would invite you on dates and other outings, which you always jumped at the chance to. That made his heart flutter: something he hadn't felt in a while.

Of course, Solomon knew that he would never be able to measure up to the brothers. At the end of the day, you'd always choose them. There were a few more times than he'd like where you would cancel your dates with him, explaining that you had completely forgot you had already promised to go to a café with Leviatan or that Beelzebub had caught a cold and you needed to take care of him.

You'd always be apologetic and make it up afterward, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting a little. Despite that, Solomon understood that you and the brothers were a package deal, and he didn't want to get in between your happiness. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to woo you and fantasize of a day where you would truly return his feelings.

That was, until you were suddenly transported to the past, and Solomon's life turned upside down. You missed your version of the brothers terribly, often spending long nights rambling on about how Satan no longer smiled at you like he once did or how Asmodeus hadn't hugged you a single time during your morning at the House of Lamentation. It hurt Solomon to see the way you would drift off into space, silently reminiscing on the way things used to be.

But, damn, it was such a selfish thought to admit, but Solomon adored how domestic his life was with you at Cocytus Hall. He cherished the little moments where he'd call you to ask which flavor of ice cream to buy and if you needed anything else from the store. He also loved the way you would come into his study whenever he worked late at night, hand him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and hug him from behind. Was this what it was like living with the brothers? Did they get to see you like this everyday?

Now that Solomon has had the taste of what it would be like to live with you and be by your side day and night, it had been getting harder and harder to let you go. Every time you'd shoot him a text that you'll be spending yet another night at the House of Lamentation, a dagger would pierce through his chest. Solomon knew that he should have been expecting this. You loved the brothers and would jump at any chance to spend time with them, even if they weren't the demons you knew, but the rooms in Cocytus Hall were quiet, lonely, and dark. He couldn't stand sleeping there without you to keep him company.

Solomon wanted you so, so badly, but he had to be complacent in being the side character in your life, no matter how much it hurt.

[epiclamer]

THIS HAPPENED IN MY DREAM— so you get part 2 tomorrow <333333

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Bait

It was the first time Hero had ever actually felt raw fear. The pit that was gnawing a hole through their stomach was nerve-wracking and every second that past made their situation less and less bearable.

A blindfold was secured tightly around their eyes, a cloth gag shoved in their mouth and wrapped around the back of their head. Ropes dug painfully into their skin and around what Hero guessed was a large metal pole.

All of these measures keeping them quiet, tense and on edge.

They were sure that the soreness in their muscles wouldn’t be gone for a long time to come, not with the bruises that were sure to appear if their bonds weren’t loosened soon.

Everything was uncomfortable.

It must’ve been around an hour since they had woken up, a pounding in their skull explained that half of the story Hero was trying to piece together. They hoped that if their kidnappers showed up they could fill them in on the rest.

The thumping of footsteps sounded to their left and Hero’s head snapped towards the commotion. The creaking of floorboards and stairs sounded next, confident steps that strolled practically lazily into the room.

“Well would you look at that? Finally decided to join us in the land of the living, huh? Have a nice nap?”

Hero let out a muffled response as their captor made it to their side, chuckling at the crime-stopper’s attempt to speak.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The hero listened intently, focusing on every movement they could pick up from their captor, using just their available senses.

They could hear them moving, circling, a soft brush of movement on their forearm made the hero flinch away violently. Only to provoke another chuckle from the other.

“Lighten up, will you? I’m not going to hurt you.”

Somehow, Hero found that very doubtful.

Without another word from their captor, the hero recognized the sound of a blade opening. Something quick—maybe a switchblade?

Before they felt it at back of their head and the crime-stopper braced for an attack, for the pain that was to come. But the sharp edge never broke skin, in the blink of an eye the hero’s blindfold had been cut away and their surroundings appeared in full force.

They were in a room, dark and dreary as ever, something that could maybe fit the description of an abandoned cellar? But the countless weapons and chains that decorated the walls made it seem less so.

“Like what you see?” Their captor asked, grinning down at them, knife still in hand. Hero recognized them now, they were a lower scale villain that prowled the city streets.

Mainly, they committed burglaries or break-ins, but in the big picture they were near the bottom of importance to the heroes. This, however. Kidnapping a hero? That was a bigger deal.

The villain did them the curtesy of untying their gag, holding both pieces of fabric in one hand and their blade in the other. The hero swallowed, it was dry and scratchy on their throat from how long the gag had been in their mouth, but they spoke nonetheless.

They needed answers.

“What do you want.” The hero rasped, wincing as they tore their throat up with a simple question.

The villain couldn’t help but laugh, moving back until they hit the large, human sized metal table in the middle of the room. Leather straps, for lack of a better word, shackles were attached to each end.

Hero didn’t even want to fathom what the drain on the floor beneath it was for.

It made them sick.

The criminal pushed themselves up on the table, using it as a simple seat. “I don’t want anything from you, sweetheart. I just need a bit of leverage to carry out my next plan.”

If the villain could grin any bigger, they did.

“I need you as bait.”

[imtrashraccoon]

I'm feeling down and really tired today so I've been reading some monster x human fanfiction. Anyways, I was suddenly inspired to write something for Nightmare and since my friend @superbfirnacho also seemed to be feeling down lately, I may have indulged in something comfy.

Nacho, I hope you like this, I was tempted to ask first but then I didn't, so... I was really tempted to write more but I didn't plan anything out and just wrote until it ended in a good place. Is it weird that I was also tempted to try and write a crossover that included Aylin meeting Ivy? I'm too tired to try and make that work right now, but I'm not opposed to it!

Cuddles By The Fire: Ivymare

The gentle crackling and occasional popping of the coals could've soothed even the most stubborn person to sleep. However, for a god like Nightmare, he was unaffected by the allure of rest. He could if he wanted to, but often didn't since the time doing so could be used for more productive things.

There was one exception though and she was currently laying asleep next to him.

Her name was Ivy and she was easily the best thing to happen to him in centuries. He wouldn't have thought he could feel any affection for anyone or anything again but lately he was realizing how wrong he had been.

Her bubbly personality and seemingly boundless positivity was mildly irritating, almost like sand between his bones. But it was nothing in comparison to the blazing sunlight of his brother's own aura.

He had pushed her away at first. She was basically the complete opposite to him and yet something about her kept him from leaving entirely.

All beings could experience negative emotions just as they could experience positive ones. He could sense that she was no different, despite how much she tried to hide it behind a bright smile. Maybe that was why he'd persuaded her to join his little crew of misfits.

Or maybe it was because she seemed so familiar... Almost like a long lost friend...

Whatever the reason, he wasn't about to let her leave his side anymore. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt her. He wasn't going to allow her happiness to be snuffed out.

She was a talented healer too. Anyone with even an idiom of mana could sense how powerful her soul was. Some may foolishly suggest that she was a Boss Monster but he knew better. Her strength rivaled that of his own and while he'd never actually inquired, he highly suspected that she was somehow related to a deity. Although, he wasn't sure if she was a god like he considered himself to be or if she had been blessed by one.

Healing wasn't all she could do though. She wasn't afraid to defend herself if anyone was foolish enough to challenge her to a fight. He'd witnessed her put Killer in his place a few times already and likely would again since the skeleton never seemed to learn his lesson.

She was also a skilled botanist and had a way with animals that he'd only ever seen from nature deities the few times he'd ventured into Reapertale. These talents weren't as useful for his work but they occasionally proved handy. It was just one other thing he admired about her since his own corruption didn't mesh well with most animals or plants.

He used one of his tendrils to set aside his journal for the time being and shifted her body a bit closer to him. He lightly ran one of his phalanges over her cheekbones, being mindful not to graze her with his claws and mar her perfect skin.

She stirred and mumbled something unintelligible but he was quick to soothe her back to sleep with a gentle kiss on her forehead. He lived for these rare quiet moments when it was just the two of them.

If his brother ever found about her, he knew that those Star Fools would immediately assume he'd kidnapped her. That wasn't entirely incorrect but it wasn't like she had ever tried to leave either. He probably would've let her, but at the same time, a darker side of him wanted to lock her away and never let anyone even look at her again.

His tendrils unconsciously coiled tighter around her body for a moment before he realized and loosened up his hold so as to not wake her.

She was his.

And he wouldn't let anyone take her away from him. Not again...

[ghcstpyre]

18+ content under the read more. MINORS DNI.

ted "theodore" logan x afab!reader

contents: pervy!ted / scent kink / panty stealing / panty sniffing / masturbation (m) / mentions of oral (f receiving)

hello @generalkenobee here it is!

thinking about perv!ted raiding your wardrobe and drawers whenever you're not around. it starts off innocently enough - you lend him one of your cosy, oversized jumpers and ted can't get enough of your sweet scent and the tang of your perfume that clings to the soft collar of your jumper. it becomes apparent after a week or two that ted has no intentions of returning it but you don't mind too much; he looked cute in your jumper anyway.

it's from that moment onwards that ted really starts to develop a thing for the way you smell. every so often whenever the two of you are spending time together at your place, he'll find an item of clothing that you've worn recently, press it to his face and inhale deeply, completely losing himself in the smell of you that still lingers on the fabric - all while you're not in the room of course, the last thing he wants is to be caught. before you come back, he'll quickly bundle up whatever he's just smell sampled and shove it into his bag to take home with him; a t-shirt, a vest top, a cardigan or maybe a hoodie if he's lucky, he doesn't really care as long as it's yours and smells like you.

The first time Ted managed to get his hands on a pair of your panties had him reeling. He didn't even mean to pick them up, they just happened to be caught up in the vest he'd recently procured from your bedroom floor and he didn't even realise until he was back home and unraveling said vest from the crumpled up ball it had been in since Ted stuffed it into his backpack while you weren't looking, the panties in question falling from within the garment and landing at his feet. Ted was almost too nervous to touch them at first, really starting to feel like a complete degenerate (at least he had the decency to feel some level of shame), but just the sight of them on his bedroom floor had his dick twitching in his jean shorts.

He was too curious and way too horny at that point to be able to resist the temptation. What started off as something fairly innocent had devolved into complete degeneracy, but Ted's head was too flooded with hormones to think straight. The panties weren't exactly the most interesting kind - just your basic, black, bikini-style underwear - but just the thought of you wearing them, the fact that your pussy had been pressed against the fabric at some point was enough to give Ted the biggest hard-on he'd had since he got his hands on his first porno magazine.

The feeling of the fabric in the palms of his hands and between his fingers was enough to have his heart jackhammering within his chest, so hard that he could hear his rapid pulse, the sound thumping in his ears. Ted had to take a moment to sit down on his bed before tentatively pressing the thin fabric of your panties against his face and inhaling deeply, already palming at the familiar stiffness in his pants and failing to stifle the groan that escaped his plush lips. It was a good thing his Dad and Deacon weren't home because Ted knew he wasn't going to be able to keep quiet, not with your panties pressed to his face and certainly not with the smell of your pretty cunt filling his nose.

By that point Ted had already unzipped his jean shorts and shimmied them down his thighs along with his boxers to finally free his throbbing cock. He flopped backwards ungracefully, being sure to keep your panties pressed to his nose with one hand while wasting no time in spitting into the palm of his other before wrapping it around his hard shaft and beginning to stroke.

"Shit..." He groaned, voice almost breathless. He knew he was done for now.

Ted's breaths were heavy and quick as he tugged on his cock, the panties against his face driving him wild. His mind drifted, fantasising about you sitting on his face and rocking your hips back and fourth, his tongue pressed against your clit, your pussy so warm and wet on his mouth as your slick dripped down his chin. He was so utterly lost in you - the whimpers leaving your lips as you came undone on his tongue, the scent of your luscious body, the taste of your precious cunt and the way your hands gripped and tugged at Ted's tousled dark brown hair.

"Fuckfuckfuck—" Ted was practically mewling, fucking upwards into his fist as it pumped up and down his swollen cock, his tip leaking precum all over his fingers. He started to moan your name over and over again like a mantra, his thoughts filled with you and only you - only ever you. "M'so close, so fuckin' close—"

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull and he pushed your defiled panties into his mouth as he came, thick ropes of white cum shooting from his cock onto his stomach and chest as he sucked on the soft fabric. Ted's whole body shook with the force of his orgasm and a good few minutes had passed before he opened his eyes again, his chest rising and falling deeply as he got his breathing back under control.

He pulled your underwear from his lips and let it drop to the side, his teeth finally relinquishing the vice grip they had on the fabric as he let out a long, heavy sigh. Eventually, Ted sat up and looked down at himself, immediately groaning in frustration and cringing hard.

He came all over his Megadeth t-shirt.

[cordeliawhohung]

People are so fucking outrageous you take some time for yourself that you told us you were taking and now they're up in your asks demanding stuff tell them to pay you for it, sincerely someone who doesn't mind waiting for whatever you post

on god i literally spent the last few days driving hours on end and just got back yesterday, today is my first full day back home. and i've been traveling out of town for the outreach clinic i have to work at the next few weeks, and even then i've still been writing allskdjf

lmfao i don't want to shit on that anon too much, and i'm def not trying to be rude or anything, but i'm also going to hijack your ask real quick to address stuff since i do have quite a few new followers.

while some users might not mind questions regarding when someone is updating/if they have anything planned for an ongoing series, and things like that, i specifically have it in my rules to please not do that, which is why i got a little short with them even though they arguably weren't being rude or malicious (unlike a few anons in the past have when asking things like that). this one is especially annoying because it's been literally eight days since i last updated for that, and i have other series i've been working on! like even though i'm not posting for it, i've still written a couple thousand words for pet!au, and i just finished a chapter for in limbo i'll have up for early access here in a bit, and then on tumblr probably tomorrow or wednesday.

but mostly, the reason why i specifically request that people don't ask if i have plans/when i'm updating/if i'm updating something is because i literally have an irl life. i've been pretty open recently about how i've been traveling and the work i've been doing, it's not a secret or anything lmao. it just feels... tone deaf, you know? like you come into my inbox not talking about the work, or what you like about it, or otherwise engaging with it, but just to ask if i'm giving you more, like i didn't just do that a week ago. hell, even if it's been months or years that's still rude imo because if you like something enough, then you'd probably be doing more than just asking for more, ya know? at least that's how it comes across to me. and like i said before, some people really don't care, which is why i made sure to specify it in my rules, because i do care. it ruins my mood to write and create because then it feels like a chore and people are waiting on me just to consume it and then beg for more rather than tell me what they actually enjoyed about the work lmao.

anyway, no hard feelings against that anon at all, i'm sure they didn't mean anything by it, so please don't show them any hate or anything. but just use this as a reminder to read the rules of the blogs you interact with please. or at least don't be surprised when you do something that irks them and then they're annoyed at you because of it lmao.

sorry about the rant in the tags