#hinge drill bits

[arnoldvmejia]

https://qic.tools/product-category/drill-bits/

[daisies-daydreams]

Focus (König x F!Reader)

Pairing: König x F!Sergeant!Reader Category: Pure Smut (18+) Warnings: Swearing, Dom/sub, Inappropriate Work Relationships (König is your superior), Brat Taming, Unprotect P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Vaginal Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Spanking, Bondage, Cockwarming, Orgasm Control, Edging, Praise Kink, Mirror Sex, Full Nelson Position, Creampie Word Count: 2.9k+

A/N: I tried looking for this fic while I was updating my masterlist, but I could only find it on my AO3. :( I’m not sure if it got lost in the abyss or if I forgot to post it on here as well. Side note: König’s real name is Felix in this fic.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Your chest rose and fell along with the movements of your arms. Your muscles burned as you raised and lowered the barbell, but you needed something to get your mind off of what happened earlier. You glanced up as a large shadow overcast you.

“Care to explain why you were such a terrible shot during the marksmanship test today?” your commanding officer, Colonel König, asked in a gruff, low voice.

Speak of the devil.

His beefy arms were crossed against his chest as he glared down at you with his piercing, blue eyes. You puffed out a breath as you placed the barbell on the wrack. \ You could hear his lead boot thudding against the ground as he waited for your reply.

“I was a little…distracted today,” you said as you briefly glanced into his eyes. König huffed out a laugh as he shook his head.

“Distractions cost lives in the field, Sergeant,” he reprimanded. You bite your lip as you puffed your chest out, slowly rising up from lying down on the weightlifting bench.

“Well, if you have anything that would help me focus, I’d love to hear it,” you said as you took the weights off the barbell. You could feel his eyes boring into your back as you swayed your hips side to side while putting the weights away. The corners of your lips curled up a bit as a large hand rested on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly as the fabric of his mask brushed against your neck.

“I have a training regiment in mind. A very…special one that would help. Especially for a brat like you,” he husked into your ear. You licked your lips as you turned, your ass just barely grazing over his covered crotch.

“And how soon should I start this regiment, Colonel?” you whisper in a lithe tone. König’s eyes narrowed as he pushed his hardening cock against the plush of your behind.

“As soon as possible,” he murmured.

---

The door to König’s room slammed with so much force you thought the door would fall off its hinges. His posture was rigid as he turned back to you.

“Take off your clothes. Now,” he commanded sternly as he unbuckled his belt. Your fingers deftly worked to peel your shirt and workout tights off of your body. The colonel scoffed when you remained in your workout bra and panties. He stepped forward, his pants loosely hanging over his rugged hips. “It seems you have more than just an issue with focus, Hase,” he rubbed his palm against the leather belt as he stepped forward. You shifted your thighs together as he loomed over you, his rough hands pushing you onto the bed.

“Turn around and bend over for me like a good little soldier,” König rasped. You turned and stuck your ass out as you bent over, your breasts pushing against the comforter you’ve grown so familiar with over the past few months. You heard the belt squeak in his tightened grip before he snatched your wrists in his hands. You could feel your pussy get even wetter as he tied the belt around your hands, securing it with a firm nod. His fingers traced down your hands and over your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of his surprisingly gentle touch.

“I’ve seen you slacking off, Sergeant,” he began. You heard the soft sound of his boots thudding against the hardwood floor as he shuffled behind you. You tried to stifle a gasp as he roughly grabbed your asscheeks and kneaded them. “Are you really that desperate for my cock?” König scolded before laying a sharp slap across your bum. You bit your lip as the pain stung against your plush skin. The colonel behind you groaned as he spread your cheeks apart, no doubt gazing at the small wet patch in the crotch of your panties.

“Judging by how soaked you’re getting, my assumptions are correct,” he chuckled mockingly. You gasped as he suddenly pulled you onto his lap. He was still fully clothed, yet you could feel his prominent, growing erection beneath his rough pants.

“But you’re going to have to earn it-earn having my big, fat cock stuffing that tight little cunt of yours,” König husked as he smoothed his hand over the sore spot on your behind. You resisted the urge to wiggle in his hold as he raised his hand. “By being obedient,” he said before slapping your ass again, letting his palm linger and pressing into the raw handprint. You whined and nodded.

“Y-Yes Colonel,” you moaned. König grunted as he squeezed your ass.

“Good girl. Now, count how many spankings I give you. If you mess up, I’ll start all over again. Am I clear?” he huffed.

“Yes sir,” you said. König groaned as he rubbed his hand up and down the globes of your butt.

“Gut,” he rasped in his native tongue before slamming his palm against your ass [Good]. You arched your back as your toes instantly curled.

“One!” you cried out. Another crossed your other cheek in a matter of seconds. “Two!” you yelped as your body lurched forward. Heat spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes with each slap against your ass, your pussy soaking the soft fabric of your underwear. Soon your ass is left alone, raw and sore from all of the spankings. Your hands strain against your back as your superior pushes your panties to the side again, his fingers now sliding against your wet slit. You shiver and clench your fists as he chuckles.

“Sensitive, are we?” König mused as he spread your folds apart with his thick digits. A small noise leaves your throat when you hear the sound of fabric tearing. You whip your head around to see part of your panties held snugly in his fist.

“There are consequences for disobeying, Hase,” he tsked [bunny]. The expression on your face drew an amused twinkle in his eye. “You thought the spankings were your punishment?” König hummed as the pads of his fingers circled around the ring of your entrance. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Nein-I’ll make sure it’s much more…effective,” he rumbled [No]. You whined when he drew long strokes up and down your slit, circling your swollen, sensitive clit every once in a while.

“O-Oh my God,” you squealed as he pinched your nub. You heard him chuckle behind you as his other hand massaged the back of your thigh.

“We’re going to do another exercise, hase,” your commander groaned [bunny]. Your lips parted as he slowly shoved two of his fingers into your entrance, letting them linger just inside the tight ring. “I want you to count every stroke of my fingers inside your pussy,” he husks, his hot breath fanning over your neck. You nod, your lip hurting from how hard you were biting it. You moaned loudly as he suddenly began to pump his fingers inside of you quickly.

“Uh, uhm-one two three four five six seven-” you tried to keep up with each stroke, your mind getting foggy with arousal.

“Speak louder!” he barked as he pressed his thumb down on your bundle of nerves.

“EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN-” you shouted, your voice dry and hoarse as he shoved his fingers deep inside your wet hole. Your voice stammered as you grew closer to your orgasm with each number, your muscles tightening as every fiber in your being screamed for release. And suddenly…it stopped. Your eyes shot open as you felt him yank his digits from your pussy. The colonel sighed as he stared down at the slick on his fingers.

“What a shame: you missed fifteen,” he mused. You gritted your teeth as your nostrils flared. König huffed before picking you up like a little kitten. He set you down on the bed as he stripped his clothes. You gaped at the sight of his throbbing erection as it sprang free from the confines of his boxers. König chuckled as he watched you wiggle against the mattress for any form of friction.

“Such an impatient little thing,” he clicked his tongue. You yelped when he picked you up again. He spread his legs wide open as he sat on the edge of the bed. You caught a glance of your naked form in the full-length mirror in front of you. König sighed as he slowly sank you down on his member. You winced as just the head breached your entrance, spreading you wide open for the rest of his shaft to sheath inside of your pussy. Both of you groaned as he bottomed out, his plush balls resting against your slick labia.

“Guess I’m going to have to teach you some patience, too,” he hummed as he let your legs drape over his own. Your brows furrowed in disappointment when he simply lets his cock rest inside of your gummy walls.

“K-König,” you mewled as you wiggled your ass against the divots of his abs. The giant man inhaled deeply as he squeezed your hips.

“Stay still, soldier,” he growled. You bit the inside of your cheek as he kept your hips from rolling. The pressure inside you was boiling and rising to the surface as he made you warm his massive member. The slight sting of the stretch faded though until you found your walls relaxing. They suddenly clench when you hear the soft hum of a vibrator. Before you have time to react, you feel the tip of the toy kiss against your clit. König smirked as he leaned his head down.

“You see that, Hase? See how much my thick cock bulges inside of you?” König husked into your ear [bunny]. You whimper as he pushes the vibrator deeper against your clit, your bundle of nerves puffy and throbbing from how much he’s been teasing you. You feel his other hand come up and grip your jaw, forcing you to look into the mirror. You shudder as you stare at the reflection of his girth stuffing your tight, dripping cunt.

“Answer me when I’m speaking to you, Sergeant,” your commanding officer rumbled as he squeezed your cheeks mockingly. You swallowed thickly, throat tight and mind clouded with an intoxicating pleasure.

“Y-Yes sir. I see it,” you breathed out. You whimpered when he pulled the vibrator away from your aching cunt. A high-pitched squeal escaped from your bitten lips as he laid a slap against the top of your pussy.

“Tell me exactly what you see, Sergeant (L/N),” the Austrian groaned as his hands rested on the top of your thighs, his long fingers drumming over your goose-bump ridden skin. Every stroke and dip of his digits sparked a fire that danced across every nerve in your body.

“I-I can see your cock inside of me,” you mewled. König hummed and traced his fingers against the inside of your thighs.

“What else?” he purred, his teeth raking down your pulse as his hands danced up your sides. You squeezed your legs over his muscular thighs. He groaned into your ear as he took your hard nipples between his calloused fingers.

“I-I see you playing with my tits,” you whined. You squealed when the Colonel pinched your nipples as he “tsked” you.

“Oh Sergeant, I know you can do better than that. You’re such a clever girl,” he whispered, voice husky and drenched with lust. “Tell me everything now-what you see, hear, smell…” You whined as he puckered his lips onto your neck, sucking on it harshly while his cock twitched inside of your gummy walls. “Feel,” he murmured.

“I-I’m spread wide open in front of a mirror,” you begin. König grunts as he trails a line of fresh hickeys down your sweat-covered skin. You take a deep breath. “My thighs are spread over yours, your p-plump balls resting just below the place where our sexes are snug,” you keen as he licks a bold stripe over the bruises, his fingers massaging your tender areola. “I can feel the head of your cock kiss my cervix like you want to breed me,” you continued. You moan when he suddenly bucks his hips upwards into your heat.

“Yes,” he groans as he shallowly thrusts into you. “Keep going,” he commands with a light slap to your upper thigh. You bite your lip as you gaze at the lewd scene in front of you.

“I-I can feel every vein of your thick cock drag against my plush walls-oh!” you moan as he tugs on your nipples again. The noise he makes is akin to a purr as he bucks up into your core, eliciting a solo of moans from your plump lips.

“That’s right. Good girl. Good fucking girl,” König growled, his hands now falling to your hips as he squeezes them roughly. Your head falls back against his shoulder before he pulls your face back up.

“Keep looking,” he hissed, voice wavering as his thrusts became faster. You panted and moaned, your voice reverberating across his bedroom walls. You tried to bounce on his cock to match the pace of his thrusts, but your thighs wouldn’t stop shaking. You gasped when you felt your colonel wrap his arms beneath your knees and lifted you up, only to slam you back down on his meaty rod.

“Mmm, such a pretty, tight cunt,” he moaned as his hips snapped up, eyes glued to the piece of glass in front of you. “And it’s all mein,” König snarled. Your head was reeling as he slammed his cock into you repeatedly. You flushed at the sight of your cream coating his long shaft, dripping down and lathering his twitching ballsac. You keened loudly as he bit into your shoulder.

“Say it, say you’re mine,” he groaned, voice commanding and hungry. You bit your lip as you tried to steady your mind.

“I-I’m yours…Felix,” you said with a shaky breath. The growl from his throat was damn near feral when his real name fell from your lips. You were rewarded with him speeding up his thrusts, his arms curling and tightening around your thighs.

“Du gerhöst mir...mir allein!” König roared as his cock plunged deep into your core [You are mine…and mine alone]. Your vision grew blurry as you watched the way your breasts bounced and jiggled. Your muscles were tightening into an inescapable knot as you sped towards your orgasm. “Look in the mirror when you cum around my cock, liebling,” he grunted. You blinked through the veil of tears that coated your eyes as your body stiffened.

“Yes, that’s it-let go for me,” your commander panted as he shoved his dick against your womb. You yelled as the cord inside of you snapped into a million tiny pieces, your body shaking with ecstasy. König’s thrusts grew more sloppy as your walls gripped at his shaft. His chest rumbled as you cried out, pure pleasure surging through your veins.

“Ahhh yes, feels so good when your warm cunt hugs my cock like this,” König praised as he kissed your neck. You moaned with each of his thrusts as the waves of your orgasm continued to rock through you.

“K-König,” you slurred in a high-pitched whine, his thrusts getting sloppier with each one. His balls tightened below you as his breathing became ragged.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, make it leak with my fucking cum,” he grunted with a strained voice. You shivered as pleasure rippled down your spine and straight into your core as your second orgasm crept up on you.

“Yes, oh Gott yes!” König roared as he suddenly snapped his hips forward [Oh God]. His arms clenched around your legs so tightly as his cock throbbed inside of your well-fucked cunt. “Yes…” he panted as he filled you to the brim with his warm, thick cum. You shook with ecstacy beneath him as you felt his seed start to dribble from between the seam where your sexes were joined.

“Such a good little soldier,” König muttered as he kissed your cheek. You turned your head so he could capture your lips in a proper kiss. You keened into his mouth as he lowered you into his lap. You sighed, letting his dick soften inside of your tight walls. Just as you went to pull yourself off of him, his hands instantly flew to your hips.

“Nein, I want my cock to stay inside of you for a little bit longer,” he whispered as he gently massaged the bruises over your hips [No]. You shivered as you felt some more cum leak onto the edge of the mattress as he kissed along your neck. You closed your eyes as your head fell back against his shoulder.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson…for now,” König purred softly as he gave one final peck to your temple. Your mind was now drifting further away as he gently slipped your back onto the mattress. Your throat tightened when he shoved his cum back inside of your tender hole with his two thick fingers.

“Now, listen carefully: you’re going to get dressed and cleaned up…and then you’re going to retake that test while my cum stays inside of that tight, little cunt of yours,” his lips danced over the shell of your ear. “Do you understand, Sergeant?” he asked. You shivered and nodded.

“Yes, sir,” you panted. König cracked a grin before gently patting your cheek.

“Gut kleiner Hase,” he murmured [good little bunny].

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Edit: Thank you so much @dangern00dl3 for correcting my German!

[c0smiclatt3]

SATORU GOJO: SAY DON'T GO

i said 'i love you,', you say nothing back.

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: angst no comfort, friends to lovers, reader and satoru were classmates, reader defected, post-suguru's death, not proofread yet pls be patient w me i just had this in my drafts for too long

after ten years, you meet again; only this time he's here to kill you - whether he can bear to face you or not.

wc: 4.3k (woah)

You look the same as you did the day you left, and Satoru really wishes you didn’t. Maybe this would be easier for him if your days as a curse user and Jujutsu Tech defector somehow disfigured you beyond recognition. If you’d taken advantage of some other curse user you knew and donned some glamour or disguise.

But no. You look the same as he remembered you. Your name rung in his ears when he saw you from his vantage point atop the abandoned school building, echoing just as it had haunted him since he left.

She’s here. She’s here. She’s—

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“She’s gone.”

Satoru felt like he was going to choke. The door to your dorm was ajar, Shoko standing beside it somber, an unreadable expression on her face.

The door hinges squealed as it slowly slid open. Lo and behold: A half empty bottle of tea on your desk. Empty bags of your favorite chips in your desk trash bin. The curtains fluttering in the open window like they always did because you liked the breeze while you slept. Your bedsheets made, just as they were every morning when you four set off for the day’s missions and drills for the last few years.

And your uniform, folded neatly on your bed, unworn.

Satoru’s mouth went dry, his hand went slack, uncurling from the fist he’d locked it in as he stormed over moments prior. “No. She’s coming back, she left her tea—“

Shoko interrupts him, "Satoru."

“She wouldn’t just up and leave, she—“

“Satoru-”

“Did Suguru rope her into this? Shoko, you haven’t seen them talking have you? Sure I was a bit preoccupied but maybe—“

“Satoru,” Shoko said, firm but resigned. “She’s gone.”

The longer he looked the more it set in: your bag missing from its hook. Your things missing from your desk. A photo of all of you Jujutsu sorcerers beaming at the camera unpinned from your cork board and fluttered to the floor, wrinkled at the corners from drops of water.

“I see.”

Shoko slipped a hand into her coat pocket.

Satoru turned on his heel and walked off down the hallway.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Goodbye.

That’s a word he’s said so much of in the last few years that he doesn’t remember anymore how to say hello. What does he say? What does he say, knowing the reason he was here now — that he was sent to kill you for once and for all?

Satoru had tracked you all the way out here. You’d gotten sloppy after Suguru’s death. The higher ups didn’t think a dirty defector like you had the capacity to mourn like that - they were convinced it was bait. It's why they sent their silver bullet himself. But Satoru knew otherwise. He knew you were too careful, too sharp to make a mistake like that any other day, and here he found you - in an abandoned school building in a small town by the countryside.

You sat in the crumbling classroom, knees to your chest on a rickety chair covered in cobwebs, tracing patterns on the dust on the desk surface. You look up, your expression neutral. You weren't surprised to see him here, like you expected him, even knowing that meant certain death. It almost made him want to laugh.

So you were feeling nostalgic, huh?

It was sunset on a quiet late summer evening, the clouds streaking along the horizon like pink and golden brushstrokes against a violet sky. What a beautiful day to die, you think to yourself. Pink. Gold. Violet.

And there he stood, silhouetted save for his eyes.

Blue. Stunningly blue.

Perhaps this is mercy, then.

You speak first.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Hands at your side, you bow deeply and snap back up to attention. Your mother coached you extensively before you departed for Tokyo on how to be respectful to the city folk, and you rehearsed the self-introduction she taught you to a tee. Fresh-faced, thirteen and bright-eyed, from the moment the train stopped at Tokyo station you put on your brave face.

The boy standing in front of you, however, was not terribly impressed. He stared at you blankly for a few moments.

“Right,” he mumbled, before turning on his heel to walk away.

“H-hey!” you go red in the face, “I wasn’t done-“

He holds his hand up. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard enough.”

You scoff at his bluntness. Well this was no way to start off a relationship with someone she was meant to call her classmate. “You’re not going to bother telling me who you are?” You call out after him. He stops.

“… You’re being serious?” he looks at her over her shoulder. His eyes flash blue - blue enough to rival the hue of the sky above them. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen eyes that blue before.

“… Well yeah-“

“Damn,” he turns back around, though rather than venom in his voice there's almost a sense of amusement and curiosity. “They weren’t kidding. You really are a country bumpkin.”

Regardless, you felt a burning in your chest as you clenched a fist. “I’ll show ya a country bumpkin,” you muttered.

“Huh? Couldn’t understand your accent, country girl,” he called out over his shoulder. You grit your teeth.

“Oi!” you call out after him, “At least give me your name so I know what to call ya while I kick ‘yer ass!”

There was something endearing to him about someone who actually didn’t know who he was for once. Who didn’t approach him like some god or some weapon. He mutters your surname to himself. He remembers Yaga-sensei telling him something about how you came from an insignificant family of sorcerers in the countryside. Out of your entire lineage, only you turned out with a technique that could actually be useful. Of course you wouldn’t know much about Jujutsu clan politics or the heavyweight names. Alright. He’ll bite.

“Won’t need it. I’ll have your ass in the dirt first, kid.”

“Who ‘ya callin’ kid!” Your fists clenched at your sides. He raised an eyebrow.

“You gonna punch me, kid?”

“I’m the same damn age as you, don’t act cocky!” In your twintail braids and with your tiny stature it was hard to take you as a serious threat.

“You’re a little thing. Why would I be scared of you?”

You threw a punch. You didn’t know what would be coming next - of course you didn’t. Your hand hit an invisible wall and you yelped, withdrawing your hand back and feeling the stinging pain in your knuckles. You look at him with a sense of challenge, but also a sense of amazement. Who the hell was this guy?

“You wanted my name? Well, here it is, kid—“

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“Satoru.”

As if understanding just how his name coming from your lips made him feel, the clouds parted to allow a stream of sunlight to illuminate you like a spotlight. The doomed antiheroine of today’s tale, in all her tragic glory, looking up listless like the soul had long been drained from her eyes.

Why, oh why did you have to say his name like that?

“I think we both know why I’m here.”

You nod. You look away from him. You’re not sure if you can bear to look at him now. “It’s been a while since we’ve sparred, Satoru.”

He swallows. “That it has.”

“Maybe today is the day I finally catch up to you after all these years.”

He shrugs. Somewhere in that nonchalant shrug is the unbothered kid you knew all those years ago. “You can try.”

But you both knew how this ended and somewhere deep inside you knew you deserved it anyway for your sins.

You can’t stop yourself from cracking a bitter smile. “Well, then,” you drop your satchel to the ground, laying out your knives before you, and as if pulled by strings they rise around you on guard. “One last spar. For old time’s sake.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a smirk.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“You’re on.”

You crack your knuckles. The other Jujutsu sorcerers may underestimate your technique, you remember your mother saying. Don’t let them. You put your hands on your hips and grin.

“Don’t underestimate me, though!”

“Can’t make any promises, country girl!”

You raise your fist and Satoru stands at the ready —

But your fist slams on the window behind you instead, shattering the glass. Satoru looks at you, confused —

And then the shards begin to levitate, forming a circlet around you.

“You think some stupid glass is gonna protect you?” Satoru scoffs. “You’ve got no idea what you’re up against here, squirt.”

You grit your teeth, close your eyes and concentrate. The shards go flying at Satoru. He’s got his eyes on you, his eyes on the shards —

And then your figure flickers. It flickers then it’s gone. He looks around, sensing that the cursed energy thrumming in the shards has grown stronger, almost humming with immense power. One shard passes just in front of his face, another just behind him, but rather than his own reflection in the glass he sees you.

You and a proud smile. You flicker behind him, and—

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

The first punch is thrown.

His movements are fluid. Graceful. Like conducting the orchestra of life and matter itself. He’s gotten even better since you left. You didn’t even know that was possible.

Your glass knives go zinging around him just as he remembered, but your technique was no match for a man who could see everything. All you had to do to try to keep up was to be faster. Faster. Faster.

But you were fighting a hopeless battle and you knew it. This was Satoru Gojo and at the end of the day you were a curse user. You knew how this ended. At this point the back and forth was just a formality.

His punches landed like they always did, the familiar blasts of red and blue that you learned to dodge all those years ago — only something was different. Something was off. His punches just barely you, just close enough to feel the breeze around his enclosed fists. He was holding back. You knew him well enough to know that.

Your grit your teeth, “Don’t go soft on me now, Satoru.”

“Who said I was?”

What a horrible liar.

“Terrible time for you to suddenly grow a conscience,” the quips are bittersweet in your mouth, rolling over your tongue like the tooth-rotting sugar of a childhood candy. Something in this back and forth felt nostalgic. Something in this back and forth made your heart lurch. Something in this back and forth made you feel as if any minute now you would dust the dirt off your pants, sigh in defeat, and walk off with him and. the rest of your class for a popsicle at the 7-eleven nearby. But this wasn't what this was. Suguru was dead. Yuu was dead. You defected years ago. And Satoru was sent with a mission that he was going to finish, no matter how much it pained him to. You just prayed it would be over quickly.

You grit your teeth, "I thought I was fighting the strongest!" Another blast just barely misses you.

"You are," his palm extends outward, a thundering force tunnelling along the concrete to your position, stopping just there before your feet.

God, this would be easier for you if he could just kill you like a cold-blooded killer. If in the last few years since you left the Satoru you knew had been successfully replaced with the sharpened knife the higher ups spent their whole life training him to be. But the hesitation in his attacks said otherwise in the most heartbreaking way possible. The words left unsaid over the last ten years came through in every missed attack, every pulled punch. Even now, even after everything, he was protecting you.

"Then hit me like you mean it!"

Like you mean it. If Satoru did anything right now the way he meant it this would be going a lot differently. If he could do this the way he meant it he would've stopped a long time ago. He would have extended his hand, flashing that arrogant smile he knew annoyed you to no end and helped you back to your feet.

But you want a fair fight and you'll get it. It'd be an insult to the sorcerer you'd grown into for him to hold back now at this crucial moment. All those hours, all those extra missions you took on while you were peers, all those promises and challenges, if you were going out you wanted to go out right. That was the least he could give you after all, wasn't it?

And so what did it mean when his attacks began to ripple through the concrete, forcing you to jump and weave around his blasts until you could feel your legs giving out? When his attacks forced you to concentrate all your energy into whizzing around between your blades, the sheer focus of reading his attacks and focusing your cursed energy draining your mind? That he acknowledged you. That he would fight you here and now as the sorcerer he respected. As the sorcerer he admired.

Your movements are angles, refractions, jets of blinding light and flickering reflections against his tremendous power. Slivers of light streams shooting between each blade - here, then here, then here - distributing your cursed energy across them so it would be more difficult for him to detect, David against Goliath. A battle of light against matter.

Until you shattered.

You lay on the concrete and hear the crunching of Satoru's shoes as he walks toward you. He walks slowly. He's giving you more time on purpose and you can tell, as if willing you to get up and fight, if only to prolong the inevitable. So he could avoid it for just a minute longer. He could have killed you long ago. But he hasn't.

The ground seems to simmer, rumbling with the sheer intensity of Satoru's cursed energy as the dust clears. He'd shot you down to the ground and here you were again.

"Barely even a scratch and you're on the ground already?" The quip is obviously meant to get a rise out of you but his voice is tinged with sadness. Get up. Get up, please.

You cough once. Twice. You feel something warm trickle from your lips and the taste of iron. "Cut the pleasantries, Satoru. We both know how this ends."

The sun sets below the horizon as he walks over, casting a shadow on your crumpled figure. You spit blood onto the concrete and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, lip stained scarlet. You're the picture of a pathetic and battered curse user, and you hope that the sight he sees before him now would be alien enough to him, that he wouldn't prolong this torture any longer. That his muscle memory would activate seeing something cowered before him and he would lift his hand and finish you off sooner or later. You hoped this way you wouldn't need to face him in this state, wouldn't need to get a torturously close look at the man you could have known in some other life had you chosen a different life.

The man you could have had.

To your anguish, he speaks. "I didn't want it to end like this."

You look away. You can scarcely bear to look at him right now without your heart aching. "...I know."

"I always hoped you'd come back on your own."

But that was wishful thinking. A sorcerer like you, after all that you' had done, would never be allowed to waltz right back into Jujutsu society, to return to that world and it's secrets and privileges as if you had never done the things you did when you followed Suguru all those years ago. No matter how much you might have daydreamed about it on occasion, no matter how many times you found yourself stopping by those campus gates and wondering what would happen if you walked your way back inside. Whether the key you kept in your pocket, a useless memento now, would still slot into your old dorm room. If your pictures would still be up on the wall, the hung up receipts from weekends out at the mall with Ieiri and Iori, the sticky notes Satoru had thrown at you in the middle of classes, ticket stubs from past missions.

And Satoru would be lying if he didn't say the same, if he didn't spend the first few weeks you left stopping by the freezer on his 7-eleven runs to reach for your favorite ice cream before remembering there was nobody to hand it off to. If he didn't learn a new trick or technique and didn't run to the dorm building to show you before stopping himself. If he didn't watch his students sparring from the bleachers, wondering if you would have been sitting by his side watching them too.

"They'd send me straight for the execution chamber and you know that-"

"You never should've left," he speaks bitterly, regretfully, as if his voice was straining just saying the words, "You should've stayed at Jujutsu Tech, you should've been there with the rest of us, we could've-"

You cut him off before he keeps talking and makes either of you ache any longer. "It's over now, Satoru."

"It didn't have to be, I -" he looks down, his mouth fumbling for words he can't find. His mind scrambles for any idea he could possibly have for bringing you back, and just as quickly as they come they form they dissipate, like a fistful of powder.

He squeezes his eyes shut, his voice breaking. "What am I supposed to do with you now..."

Your next words are spoken with finality. "Exactly what you were told to do."

The words make your throat tighten, make your arms tremble and struggle to hold yourself up. You keep your head down.

After a few moments he finally mutters a few words. "You're making this difficult."

"I'm sorry."

"Why," he whispers, "why did you do it?" His voice breaks. "Why did you leave me?"

Your face burns. You don't have the heart to tell him that when Suguru spoke, he spoke so convincingly. That after you saw the dead eyes of Riko Amanai in her shroud, young enough to be your classmate, young enough to be your sister, then walked back out into the swarming Tokyo streets wondering what she died for you wanted to throw up.

When you saw Satoru walk around like a living corpse, when you saw him have to force himself back into his usual self, that life had to somehow go on after all that had happened, you felt sick - sick.

So in your youth you thought that Suguru had found an answer. Some way that would bring us anywhere but here. Some world where you and everyone you loved wouldn't have to live and die like this.

"I thought I was doing the right thing-"

"You were one of the few good things I had left."

A silence settles between you two. Your eyes meet his.

Once upon a time he looked at you with the twinkle of a challenge in his eye, waking up in the morning looking forward to whatever stupid shenanigans you and the rest of your classmates would get up to that day. The way he looks at you now, with ten years in between your last meeting, since the last time you saw those eyes truly full of light and hope, he looks at you with the eyes of a dead man.

You couldn't live. You shouldn't. Or those eyes would haunt you forever.

When people look into the eyes of Satoru Gojo, they practically look into the eyes of God. The man who holds the balance of life in his very sight. Jujutsu sorcerers and cursed spirits alike cowered under his icy gaze.

But just as you had all those years ago, when you looked at him you only saw a boy. A boy whose heart left with you ten years ago.

You reach your hand up, sliding your fingers between his, and before he can even process it, his hand gently squeezes yours.

Please. Please.

For a moment he is quiet. For a moment his pulse jumps in his throat. For a moment he almost believes all those delusions in his head, that there was some way for you to return to Jujutsu. Return to him.

Your fingers fold around his, sliding and twisting his hand into a point directed straight to your forehead. You close your eyes.

"Satoru."

His name sounds devastating on your lips, the way you speak his name knowing it may be one of the last things you say and, God, if there was the right final word let it be his name.

Your name passes from his lips like a whisper in return. You two refuse to say anything more. You know if you say what you want to you run the risk of cursing him, and your shadow has loomed on him for long enough. Yours and many others'.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words sit, shapeless on your tongue. You don't dare speak them - for his sake. As much as it will kill you. As much as it would kill him either way.

Those unspoken words hang in the air, and Satoru breaks the silence.

"I-"

"Don't."

"Please-"

"I said don't-"

HIs voice begins to rise. "Please just say it, say something, anything-"

"You know what would happen if I do."

"I do! And does it look like I give a damn?! Don't leave me again, God, don't leave, stay with me this time. Give me that much, just don't go-"

"No," you say firmly, and you want to crumble when you feel the way he winces at your interruption. "... Please."

Satoru's hand trembles.

He swallows.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“Another win for yours truly,” Satoru grinned, his hand held out to you. “Seriously, you’d think in three years you’d learn a thing or two,” he pouts pitifully.

“I’ve learned you’re an asshole!” You cross your arms over your chest, rolling onto your side. You huffed, a puff of dirt rising as you did. You hated meeting his eyes when he was gloating, he was always so full of himself after a match.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he throws his head back laughing as he leaned over you, nudging you with his hand, “get up and let’s to already. You’re covered in dirt, country girl. I mean look at yourself,” he picks up one of your glass shards and holds it up to your face so you can see your reflection. He sticks his tongue out and mock gags. “Uuuugly.”

“Shut up, Satoru!”

He laughs again, a sound warm like the sunshine itself.

“Come on, come on. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

You turn onto your other side and huff again. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, but smiles at your stubbornness. He shrugs and lays down beside you. “Or is the dirt that comfortable?”

The two of you lay there for a moment under the setting sun, wrapped in the warm of the golden hour. His eyes meet yours and he’s stumped into a pause. It’s been three years since you arrived at Jujutsu Tech and you both have grown since then - him into a young man and you into a young lady of your own right. The light strikes your eyes just so, making them glitter like the sunlight on the sea. Had your eyes always been so beautiful? Had your hair always fallen perfectly around your eyes? Had the little sun freckles on your skin from your childhood in the fields always been so endearing to him?

His heart flutters.

His silence stuns you too. Satoru Gojo was never quiet. When you turn over you see his perpetually smug expression soften, lips parted, eyebrows relaxed, opening those famous blue eyes to you. A breeze passes, the wind rustling the trees above you, and you realize your so close that some of your hair could brush his cheek from here. His silence makes you feel compelled to whisper.

“Satoru?”

In that moment he almost feels compelled to say something stupid. So stupid. With your face this close to him his head is filled with stupid questions. Stupid thoughts.

Instead he flicks your forehead. You yelp and your hand flies to rub that spot.

“What in the world was that for?” you cry out.

“For making me lie on the dirt when it actually sucks.”

“I didn’ make you do anythin’!” There was that little accent slipping out again. He laughs to himself as he gets up and stands over you again, waiting for you to join him. You look up at him and look up at the sky.

"One day," you huff, "one day we'll settle this for once and for all. And I'm gonna win."

He smiles down at you. "I'll be waiting."

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: omg about time i got this out of my drafts. i wrote like 80% of this on the plane and then had no idea how to actually end it, so i sat on it for a few days and hopefully this ended up working out idk. this is definitely longer compared to the other stuff i've done so i really appreciate it if you did end up reading all this way. byyyye!

[atalana]

so i finally got the chance to read the book of bill! and man those journal 3 pages, i could write a million essays on those, but the principle one that i can't get out my head is the new insight on ford's whole fucked up paradigm of what love is

like, neither of the stan twins really know how to experience unconditional love, because they never really had it. their dad was constantly comparing the two of them and really just stamping down stanley's self worth at any given moment. and even for ford who was praised, he's not an idiot, he saw how stan got treated all the time, and their dad was very explicit as to why. ford's praise and attention hinged on him being the family genius who could make them all a lot of money, and he knew very well if he failed to live up to that, he would also lose his father's love

and you see this in stan in his desperate need for everyone to like him, but also how he doesn't really believe anyone ever truly could love him, so whenever he gets the chance with anyone he clings onto that relationship as tight as he can, terrified it's going to disappear at any second

ford, meanwhile. the more direct threat to him was the bullies and the people that made him feel lesser for being abnormal. and no kid likes feeling like that, we know it's a spike buried deep in his psyche, which gave him a reason for the dichotomy he ends up forming.

when he was a kid, people tended to fall into two categories - those who were really impressed with him and his potential, and those who saw him as a freak and wanted to drag him down for it. the love he got and the hate he got are directly related to both.

and as a result ford is constantly looking for people who will give him intellectual gratification (what he thinks love is), and he categorises everyone else as "unimportant obstacles in my way" (because that's how he thinks about those bullies, so their words won't hurt anymore)

stanley was the first category, until he sharply became the second

and splitting the world into those two categories makes him an absolutely horrible person! like, one hand yeah, you do have sympathy for ford bc that is straight up torture bill put him through and no one should have to experience it (and i do wanna make clear this is not a ford hate post, he does have good qualities im just interested in the bad rn)

on the other hand though, god, i'm always struck by just how hateful he is towards so many unimportant things (just one of many examples, christmas songs are fake and stupid bc rudolph didn't burn santa's workshop to the ground as revenge for ostracizing him like jesus christ dude)

or the bit where he sees one of stan's shitty product ads and considers calling him and pretending to be a cop just to scare him, because in ford's mind that's a punishment he deserves for daring to look so stupid while sharing ford's face

and it just drills in how much ford is not willing to see stan's side of this in any way, because what do you think would happen if you went through with that plan? don't you know stan's already scared enough? you saw him get kicked out, you saw the ultimatum that came with it, and hell thanks to the book of bill we know you were also scared to go home until you had something to show for it. he's trying his best, and you understood that once. but then stan throws your journal back in your face and you yell that you're giving him the chance to do the first worthwhile thing in his life.

everything he did to try and make something of himself, to try and prove himself worthy of literally any love at all, you didn't care about that. now he's in a position to help you, so of course he should just drop everything and obey your orders to the letter without question. that's the only way to redeem himself for getting in your way, why won't he take it?

by the time bill shows up ford felt fully justified in going "this isn't about me, and therefore it's stupid and unimportant and should be destroyed". and i know exactly why, it's because again you think intellectual gratification and love are the same thing and you're running low on both right now so you're trying to make up the difference by affirming how right you are in your goddamn diary, but right does not make you good or kind or wise

and that makes it kind of a self fulfilling prophecy, because loving you is hard, and the one person genuinely willing to do so unconditionally you're keeping at a very aggressive arms length. but you fall for bill so easily, because he understands how important you are, which must be love, and all of these other people worried about you just aren't smart enough to get it

and not even realising bill's lies could cure him of that one. hell, 30 years spent dimension hopping didn't cure it. when ford gets back he is still just as self righteous, and still willing to categorise dipper as "will give me intellectual gratification" and the rest of them as intrinsically less valuable

which is why dipper can't take the deal ford offered him. if he had, he would have turned out exactly like ford, stuck in his own echo chamber unable to tell the difference between love and praise

mabel says at one point in the comics that the reason the two grunkles are bad at looking after kids is because they still are kids, and that's a really accurate insight. that old wound cut so deep neither of them had the chance to actually move past their childhood, and discover what it was they were missing

stan never stopped wanting his brother back, but ford didn't realise that was what he needed too, until he saw mabel and dipper working as a team against bill. he's acknowledged his mistake in trusting bill before now, but "we used to be like that" is his first time acknowledging that his whole approach to people is wrong.

you've always had one source of unconditional love. you didn't need to be better than him to be worthy of it. and now you've got an entire new family, hopefully you'll realise that can come from multiple fronts

(and it's okay stan shall have his revenge for how you treated him by commiting just. so much tax fraud in your name)

[eufiemoon]

How to Make: Electronic Wings for Cosplay

Hello Everyone! It's been a while since I last uploaded a written tutorial on here and since I just finished and wore my Dame Aylin cosplay this last weekend it seemed appropriate to jump back in with a tutorial on one of the costume pieces!

Her wings were the star of the show this weekend and I know a lot of people were curious about how I made them! A huge source of knowledge and inspiration behind these wings was this video by Axceleration, I made a few changes to the frame shape and electrical circuitry for mine but her tutorial was a huge stepping stone to give me the confidence to tackle them myself!

Health and Safety:

When working with Sintraboard (as well as other thermoplastics) it is incredibly important you wear a respirator as well as goggles when heating, moulding and cutting it. The fumes this plastic will give off when heated up are no joke! Make sure you're in a well-ventilated space!

Basic tool safety knowledge is also really important! wearing gloves when using power tools can be more dangerous in most situations, so always be aware of where your hands are vs where the tools are. Always cut away from yourself and take things slowly, don't panic.

Electrical safety! You're working with live wires and circuitry! make sure your hands are dry, you aren't touching the bare wires at any point when they are connected to a power source, and if you choose to solder anything, make sure you're wearing heat-proof gloves and a mask in a ventilated space!

Tools

Wire stripper

Screwdriver and wrench

Dremel - I recommend the Dremel 3000 rotary tool personally! Some essential Dremel bits you'll need for this include, a sanding bit, drill bit (smaller or same size as your screws/bolts), and a small/narrow cutting bit. These will usually come with the Dremel!

Heat Gun (A hairdryer will not get hot enough to heat the Sintraboard!!)

Pipe cutter (alternatively you can use a hacksaw for this!)

Hacksaw

Ruler

Scissors (for cutting fabric straps)

Materials

Heat shrink Tubing

2 core electrical wire

switch (you want a three position, six pin switch, like this one, even better if it has the Screws on the pins! otherwise you'll need a soldering kits to solder the wires to the pins.

2x 8AA 12v Battery Holders

2x 12v Linear Actuators (Mine had a stroke length of 100mm)

21.5mm PVC Pipes (I got 2x 3m Lengths)

2x 21.5mm PVC Pipe straight couplers

6mm 8"x12" Sintraboard

Nuts/Bolts/Screws (I used M5 bolts for the base & Actuator connectors and M6 screws to attach the hinges to the pipes! You'll need Washers for every Nut & Bolt!)

Hinges (I used 2.5cm wide hinges that were skinny but long so they would just about fit along the PVC pipe! 3" gate hinges would work!)

50 metre Polythene Jiffy foam roll (in retrospect this was ALOT of foam, you could definitely get away with maybe a 20-30 metre roll! I now have a load leftover XD)

16 AA Batteries (I used 16 and had enough for the whole day with them on, I think They'd probably be enough for another half a day-full day too! but have spares just in case!)

Webbing strap ( I went for grey to match my base suit colour!)

Buckle - as wide as the webbing strap you use!

3 metres of white cotton fabric (or whatever colour wings youre going for!)

Optional

Zipties (for cleaning up the wires)

Lets Go!

Sintraboard is this wonderfully stable thermoplastic that is relatively easy to cut into (with the right tools) and when heated allows you to mould its shape! I started by using a mannequin and heating the Sintraboard with a heat gun for a few minutes to make it pliable, I recommend using gloves for this part as the materials gets VERY HOT! Press the board into the shape of the mannequin's back, taking note of the edges especially! you want this board to sit as comfortably to your body shape as possible as it makes a huge difference to how long you can wearing the wings for in this backplate is comfy!

Once shaped, I placed it against my back to make sure it was a good fit, heating again and making any alterations I needed (again don't place bright hot plastic to your bare skin! wear protective clothes and wait till its slightly cooler to do this, with the help of a friend!). I then took a hacksaw and rounded the corners, before sanding the edges with my Dremel! Try to avoid cutting off loads, just enough to make things less likely to snag.

3. I then cut in four holes, wide enough to feed my webbing strap through, two at the top and one on either side below where my arms would sit! I measured the webbing strap by firstly feeding them through the top holes and pinning them, and then bring the strap over my should to everything sits where it should and seeing where the strap hits the side hole and cutting the length there! you'll also want a strap that attaches across the chest, meeting in the centre with a buckle!

4. After sewing the straps closed I was able to move onto the PVC pipe structure! This may change slightly depending on the finished shape you want but I needed the PVC pipes to come out from inside a breastplate so had a particularly angle as well as character references to work with! I began by heating the pipe over my heat gun and flattening a portion of it under a heavy object so it would sit much more flush against the backboard and sit better underneath my breastplate before moving onto securing the first portion of the structure to the backplate. This mainly involved lots of try-ons and measuring to make sure the angles were correct and symmetrical and was quite fiddly but well-worth the effort! I'll include a diagram of the general shape I went with below:

5. I wanted my wings to be relatively modular for ease of travel so I needed to make sure certain portions of them could come away from other parts easily, so I popped a straight coupler on the top of the pipes that were attach to the breastplate, this also meant I could slot the breastplate over these shorter pipes and wear everything correctly! Then these second pipes slot on and at the other end they are attached via hinges to the longest portion of the pipe 'skeleton', Diagram below:

6. Now that the skeleton was put together, it's time for the electrical stuff! It's a good idea to figure out where your circuit is going to lay on the skeleton - consider if you want the battery packs mounted the the backplate or, like me, put them inside the actual wings in removeable pockets for easy access and removal for battery changes. all your wires will go through the switch so deciding where you want to place that is very important! Mine was placed just over my shoulder on the front side, mounted to the PVC pipe with a metal cover I drilled a hole into to slip the switch through and then drill through the pipe.

I've included another diagram below that explains all the electrical circuitry, including which wires go on which pins on the switch!

Important to note: The linear actuators need to be placed and bolted into the PVC pipes at *exactly* the same angle on each side, any slight deviation will lead to the wings going up wonkily! So take your time and make as many adjustments as necessary.

7. You can extend your wires by adding on the electrical wire, just match the colours, and put heat shrink tubing over the connections to hide the live wires! I ended up zip-tying the wires into organised bundles once the wings were done to help keep everything safe from snags.

8. Now its time for the Wings themselves! I drafted my base pattern by just draping the white cotton fabric I had over the wing when it was fully extended. I then pinned the wings to the shape I wanted them to be along the bottom before cutting along the pins. I ran the fabric through my sewing machine to close the bottom edge, leaving a gap wide enough by the wing base so I could slip the wing on and off, closing it with velcro. I also added little fabric pockets inside of these to hold my battery packs, which also connected via velcro for easy removal!

9. Now that I had a wing base I was able to begin making feathers! I cut out a total of 800 feathers out of polythene jiffy roll for these wings, in 6 different styles and using real life bird wings to dictate the shapes I used and where I placed them. I ended up hot gluing every individual feather onto the white fabric base, going row by row until every side was covered, the wing covers themselves are super light because of the foam feathers and they shine light through them in a really magical way!

Optional: I also ended up going over these feathers with my airbrush and some super light beige paint to help darken the shadows, this is entirely optional and may change depending on the wings you're looking to make!

When in neutral position and in extended position the wings looks like this:

Mine had a wingspan of about 7ft total when fully extended but when in neutral position they were fairly close to my own proportions! mainly staying behind me and weren't much of a problem in a packed con hall!

Photo by: Helloimfran (on Instagram and Twitter)

I hope this tutorial helped and if there are any questions about anything in specific don't hesitate to reach out at eufiemoon@gmail.com or on my instagram or twitter (@eufiemoon)

Happy Crafting!

[bon2bonn]

My hand to hold p.2

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Her head was killing her, figuratively and she thought it might actually physically do ends her , not only did she had to suffer through the whole race weekend with a severe cold that's accompanied with a migraine that rendered her immobile for the past two days. It escalated from a slight pressure to a full fledged drill going inside her head , now the slightest light blinded her and added to her still growing pain , her blocked nose and watering eyes gave her another hell to deal with . She contemplated rewriting her will at the time as she buried herself deeper into the blankets, reminiscing about the times when she could breathe normally through her nose not like how she's struggling to get a decent breath without panting like an old lady taking her last breath of life.

She cursed Carlos in her head for the thousandth time that day for going along with her childish impulses but groaned as she took it back knowing he suffered the same fate as she did that weekend, but obviously minus the migraine and the ragged breaths, she remembers how she fell into a laughing fit when she called him the day before, when he answered her video call with Buffy eyes and a red nose that caused him to sniffles every few seconds added to the sneezing fits that made him groan after every single one . his hair was a total mess , falling over his eyes in a curled disarray with dark circles of sleepless nights evident under his tired eyes , they both flinched at the other's appearance , grimacing in regret as they scowled at eachother through the screen , promising to never do anything stupid or indulging eachother with their childish antics but that promise went like water under the bridge and they both knew they'll do much worse than running under the rain unprotected which now rendered them both sick and unable to function properly.

But back to the present , she groaned in pain as she heard her door unlock slowly with the hinges squeaking as it was pushed open , making her burry her head under the pillows trying to drow out the light of the hallway but regretted her action as she struggled to breathe even more, so she threw away the pillows and peered through bleary-eyed vision as someone got in and closed the door behind them .

She couldn't make out who was it so she asked in a hoarse voice " death , is that you? " Max made a face at her after he turned on one of the dim lights by the door , giving her a decent view of his unimpressed face " not today Bibi " she Groaned again , turning into a small ball leaving her face out as she threw her blanket over her head .

Max made his way over with a small bag that she only noticed now along with a full bottle of water and a bowl of steaming soup . he set them on the bedside table before sitting on the bed beside her curled form , she tried to turn around but failed and kept herself curled resorting to scolded him in a tired tone " no !, you'll get sick too " he ignored her and took the medicine from the bedside table , cranked to bottle open and turned to her " come on , Ben's orders , and you need to eat something, come on up! up! up! " She miserably cried out " I can't ! , too tired" , he helped her up into a sitting position " and who's fault is that? " handing her the medicine along with the water before letting her lay back down.

She glared up at him " it's your fault! " he chuckled quietly asking in a teasing tone " is it now? " She nods but stopped as the room started spinning at her movement " it is ! , you know the dumb shit I do ! , you could've stopped me then I wouldn't have gotten sick !" He glared back at her " you ! And correct me if I'm wrong , actually refused to listen and ran away like a toddler on a sugar rush " , she snapped at his statement " you could've dragged me back" he gave her a deadpanned look " I tried to! , and you almost bit my fingers off ! " She looked away at his answer unable to argue back " in my defence I was left unattended" he rolled his eyes pointing out " you were with Carlos" she shrugged nonchalantly " in his defence he was left unattended too , sooo ......" he sigh knowing there's no use arguing with her .

His soft tone called again " come on, at least take some of the soup, I swear the poor kid is two sneezes away from calling your dad, or worse, calling Roge " she grimaced at the thought of her father breaking down her door once knowing how sick she really is , not like the light almost nonexistent flue she told him she caught days ago, let alone her eldest cousin, that made her shudder as she looked at Max .

He frowned at her tired face, her eye bags amplified his concern further , making him ask her quietly " what hurts?" She made a pained face as she pointed at her head . he nods and looked at the soup deciding that it's still too hot for her to swallow so he turned back to her , adjusting her pillow and leaning his head on the headboard , settling on his back after kicking his legs up to lay beside her while crossing his feet at the ankles , he took out the mint drops out of the bag and unwrapped one and held it out for her, shaking his head when she pushed his hand away " they'll help " she made a face of distaste " no, I love mint but these taste weird " he gave her a pointed look " you won't even taste them with your stuffed up nose , you can barely breathe! " she pouted at his words taking the drop while muttering under her breath " you're mean " he took one of them himself before laying down comfortably " and you're an idiot, so I guess that balances us " watching her gag dramatically when she finally popped it in , not helping his amusement at her displeased face .

After a moment he took her hand starting to gently massage her palm starting from her wrist up towards the pads of her fingers all while concentrating on the area between her thumb and pointer finger, snickering silently at her relaxed face , the meds must kicked in as her eyes started to drop and it didn't take long before she fell asleep with him taking her other hand to do the same process as the other , her now free hand gripped gently at his t-shirt, a habit she's yet to drop since she picked it up years ago .

He gently placed a kiss on the back of her hand before placing it over his heart, closing his eyes and minutes later he drifted off too with the sound of her soft breaths lulling him away .

Tommy peeked his head in to check on the two , it's been a while and no one stepped out yet , so he took it upon himself to check on them , and he wasn't surprised to find them both passed out but still disappointed at the untouched soup , he tiptoed his way to collect the bowl to reheat later , pausing at the sleeping pair and eyes softened at their tired figures , but at least she finally got some rest after suffering through all these sleepless nights , he made his way out quietly, making sure to shut the door behind him gently .

[hallowxiu]

Gentle Monster

part 1

i will be posting this as a chaptered series on my a03 linked here.

characters: zombie!Beel, gn!mc

word count: 4.8k

Summary: You're living in a zombie apocalypse where your current struggles have brought you to a small town where you meet a strange zombie.

"The zombie, which hasn’t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true. If anything, it seems startled by your presence."

Autumn leaves rustle on the ground, the wind blowing them down the streets as you walk hurriedly. You’d left your house, your very own sanctuary that you built with your own hands, to run into town to look for supplies. You were stocked on most things, but you found yourself running low on medical supplies (you had a bit of a nasty run-in with a handful of zombies a few nights ago) and ammunition (for the same reason you ran low on medical supplies). 

For the last year, you were nearly sure you were one of the last remaining humans in your town. You hadn’t seen or as much as heard a peep from people, which was somewhat uncommon. If there were groups of armed people holed up somewhere, you would have eventually run into them when out on supply runs. 

The echo of your steps is the only source of sound in the otherwise quiet town. You can hear the faint grunts and groans of zombies in the distance, but the sounds aren’t close enough to draw any sense of alarm. Still, you had your hammer ready in case you were surprised. 

You weren’t feeling hopeful today with the potential outcome of your supply run. Medical supplies and ammunition generally were rare to find, but in a town where most humans were wiped out? Yeah, fat chance. You felt a growing pit of anxiety forming in your stomach. Never run low: that’s what you drilled into yourself whenever it came to medical supplies and ammunition. How could you let yourself get so careless? You should have never put yourself in this situation to start with.

Your eyes scanned over the abandoned and ruined buildings, moss and vines covering the exteriors and forcing their way inside through broken windows. Damaged bricks lay discarded and forgotten on the ground. Most places had already been ransacked by both you and other survivors. You knew markets had little to provide, and long-forgotten homes had been stripped of anything valuable they once had. There was, however, one place in town that most people avoided. The feeling of anxiety grows larger within you, threatening to break out. You didn’t want to go to that section of town, but you were low on options. You needed medical supplies and ammunition desperately; if you wanted to survive, you’d have to take calculated risks. Running a dirty hand through your hair, a shaky exhale forces itself past your lips as you head toward the town’s police station. 

The police station was a place to avoid for several reasons. However, the most pressing one was that it was located right on the outskirts of town. You tried to avoid the outskirts of town as much as possible. Zombies always seemed to linger in groups that could easily overpower someone traveling alone. The police station also had a small jail toward the back of the building, which became an issue once people started dropping dead and turning. Many of the prisoners were still in their cells, turned years ago. It was just a place you didn’t like to be around, but you also knew many survivors shared that sentiment. If you wanted to get the supplies you were so desperately in need of, you knew the police station would more than likely have it. However, there was a risk that you may end up using all the supplies just trying to get back out of the station. 

You stop short in front of the station. The building looks the same as the rest of the infrastructure in town. Something, likely a herd of zombies, had pushed in the front doors that were now barely attached to the hinges. Bloody handprints had been smeared on the remaining glass, and from what you could tell from where you stood, the inside didn’t look much better. You could see the center of the reception room, papers discarded and dumped on the tiled floor. Inhaling and giving yourself a false sense of confidence, you step inside the station. 

The first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. No grunts, no moans, no shaky breaths. Your dominant hand grips the hammer tighter. It was rare for the police station to be empty; there were almost always zombies roaming around the building. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding away as you scan the room for any threats. The air held a musty and metallic smell, and you could see thick layers of dust on the plastic chairs that sat haphazardly in the room. Slowly, carefully, you walk behind the receptionist's desk, looking for anything useful. Nothing, but that didn’t shock you. Survivors brave enough to break into the station usually only made it to the receptionist area. Not many were brave, or for lack of a better word, stupid enough to push further. Luckily (or unluckily), you were stupid enough to do such a thing. 

Moving through the reception area and toward the back of the station, you knew the likelihood of finding supplies increased. You swallow nervously, glancing around as you push through the building. Somehow, it became more nerve-wracking the longer you went without running into anything. The lights are out, thanks to the power outage from the outbreak. Still, you weren’t anticipating just how dark the building grew the further you pushed. You knew you had to be getting close to the jail based on the lack of windows. 

You blink several times, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You hated being in the dark, something you didn’t initially have a fear of until you found yourself living in a world full of blood-thirsty monsters. Your mind would play tricks on you, conjuring up distorted images of things lurking in the shadows, hiding behind every corner. Whenever you found yourself in the dark, it became incredibly difficult for you to stay focused, to separate reality and hallucinations. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to stay grounded in the moment. Losing yourself to panic would only cause more trouble. Opening your eyes again, you grab a flashlight in your bag. Once on, the flashlight illuminates the room with a narrow tunnel of light, giving you an idea of where you’re at in the building. You had been right; you were in the jail portion of the police station. Lifting your flashlight, you freeze when seeing the outline of something right in front of you. 

Disorientated from the darkness, it takes your brain a moment to process that you are staring directly at someone or something’s chest. Before a scream can erupt from your lungs and you lose yourself completely to panic, you throw yourself back, trying to put as much distance as possible between whatever’s in the room with you. You aim your flashlight, the light revealing a zombie in the corner of the room, visibly startled by your sudden movement. You glance from the zombie to your hammer, noting that it’s of significant size for an ordinary zombie. It didn’t seem like a Griever, the deadliest zombie from the outbreak. That relieved you; you didn’t think you could take on a Griever of that size without a gun. It was the risk you carried when traveling into town; the sound of a gun firing could attract all types of zombies from all over. You were exposed enough as it was in town; you didn’t need to make it worse for yourself. 

You didn’t want to fight the zombie with your hammer. It was large and could easily overpower you. Your pistol is in your bag as a last option, but you couldn’t risk alerting more zombies to your location. The palm of your hand is sweating as your grip around the hammer tightens, your knuckles turning white. Cautiously, you take a slow step back, desiring to add more space between you. The zombie, which hasn’t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true. 

Without warning, the zombie lunges for you, its hands outstretched as it runs toward you. You force a scream down as you stumble back, unthinkingly swinging the hammer out in front of you, striking at the air. You back into something, feeling cool metal pressing against your back. It’s bars to a jail cell. 

Making a rash and sudden decision, you yank the door to the cell open, darting inside and slamming the door shut behind you. You stumble back against the wall as you watch the large zombie trying to squeeze its arms through the gaps of the cell door. Your chest rises and falls, eyes dilated and wide as you try to make out your dark surroundings. You must’ve dropped your flashlight in the struggle because you were again thrown into darkness. You place a shaky hand on your chest, trying to calm your nerves. You were away from the zombie, but now, admittedly, you were trapped in a pitch-black jail cell. The full gravity of your decision begins to settle over you. You have no medical supplies, you’re low on ammunition, you’re without a light source, and you’re trapped in a jail cell with limited food and water on your person. Feeling panic welling inside you, you struggle to keep it at bay. Throwing yourself into a jail cell has to be the most impulsive decision you’ve made, and it may just cost you your life. You’re only lucky that you managed to pick a cell that wasn’t already holding a zombie.

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, watching wearily as the zombie continues its assault on your cell. You had no idea how long it would take before the bars would give out under the zombie. Sure, it was a heavy metal door, but this was also a larger-than-average zombie. You had no idea the strength it held. You watch as the zombie begins to slowly lose interest, another thing that strikes you as odd. Typically, even if a zombie couldn’t reach you, it’d try to get to you as long as it could see you. Hunger was not something that ever went away with zombies. It was what drove them to survive, what drove them to keep going. You were a free ticket to a hot meal as far as this zombie was concerned, and yet… 

You observe how it still lingers by the door, its hands wrapping around the cool metal of the cell bars. It’s watching you closely, its eyes following your every move, no matter how small—the zombie’s groaning, something that sends a shiver up your spine. Regardless of how long you’ve been stuck in this hell, the sounds of zombies never stopped creeping you out. The zombie pulls weakly at the bars; odd. Why would it pull so weakly when you both knew it could easily apply more strength? You were at the mercy of this zombie, and surely you both knew that. Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you feel backed into the wall behind you, your back pressed flat against the cool, bricked surface. 

You needed to plan your escape, but escaping while this monster hovered around your cell wouldn’t do you any good. You lost your flashlight, and while your eyes have been slowly adjusting, you were still at a steep disadvantage. You still have your hammer, but you ultimately knew it wouldn’t do much in a fight against this guy. You could lodge it in its eye and run for it, but then you’re without a weapon. As morbid as it was, your only hope would be if another poor soul wound up here and took its attention off you. You never prayed on the downfall of another human, but if it was the only thing standing between you and getting back home, then you just might. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you see movement in front of you, watching in curiosity as the zombie slowly sits down in front of the cell door. It wasn’t like zombies to sit and wait for their prey; they usually just continued to groan and pound away at whatever was blocking them. This zombie was nothing like one you’ve encountered, and its odd behavior was only stacking up in front of you. “What are you?” You find yourself asking, knowing you won’t get anything in response. And true enough, you don’t, except for a grunt. If you weren’t so hung up on how to get out of this situation, you’d probably be taking notes on this zombie, trying to learn about its behavior and unnatural size and classify its type. 

It’s still quiet in the jail, something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by you. You wonder if the zombie in front of you is the reason for the lack of other zombies in the building. That thought sends another shiver up your spine; if this zombie could keep other zombies out of this building, how strong was this beast? Your grip on the hammer tightens as you try to keep as much distance as possible despite the cell door acting as a barricade. You chew on your bottom lip anxiously, your stomach already growling. Pushing the thought of food aside, you look down at your left ankle. It was swollen, ballooning in your shoe. Your ankle was the main reason you were out for medical supplies. During your last run-in with zombies, you sprained it when fleeing. However, with the current state of your ankle, you’re starting to suspect that you might be suffering from a sort of fracture, and you’re even more sure that trying to escape this zombie earlier only made it worse. You should have waited until your ankle healed more; patience in a zombie apocalypse was vital, but it seems it was something you lacked. 

Your ankle was throbbing as you sat, and you started to wonder just how fucked of a situation you landed yourself in. You glance back up to see the zombie still staring at you. It’s strange, but what’s even stranger, you think, is how you aren’t unnerved by its stare. You don’t feel anything. You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. If you get lost in your thoughts now, if you let your panic consume you, you are dead. There was no other way about it. So, instead of letting yourself get wrapped up in your head, you needed to focus on-

“H…el…p.” 

Your head snaps up, and your eyes widen as you scan the area as best you can while stuck in the dark cell. Was someone else in here with you? Was someone also stuck in a cell? A prisoner, maybe? Or someone in a very similar situation to yours? “Hello? Who’s there?” You didn’t bother hiding your voice, you were nearly positive that there was only one zombie back here with you, despite you not fully understanding what kind of zombie this was. “Are you injured?”

You were met with silence, and you felt your eyes narrowing in the darkness as you tried to pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from. “Hello?” You try again, waiting on bated breath. After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear a response. 

“Not… injured.” You’re confused by this. They’re not injured, but why are they replying as if they are? “You… injured?” 

“What?” You’re straining to hear the person, and the more you strain, the more you’re uncertain that you might be going insane and hallucinating the entire conversation. You’re so absorbed in this conversation that you inch yourself closer to the cell bars, your fingers wrapping around the rusty metal, the zombie the last thing on your mind. 

Suddenly, the zombie’s face is blocking your view, pressed against the cold metal bars. You let out a surprised yelp, throwing yourself away from the bars and zombie and back against the brick wall. The overly large zombie is pressing itself into the bars with its hands outstretched towards you. You notice it’s not moving aggressively but slowly and curiously. “In…jured.” Okay, now you know you’re going crazy because there’s no way you just saw and heard a zombie attempting to communicate with you. There’s just no way. The zombie points at your swollen ankle with its outstretched hand as if to prove a point. 

“Yeah… injured.” You repeat slowly, not quite believing that this thing is speaking to you. Or that you’re responding to it. There’s a beat of silence as the zombie stares at you, its head tilting. You’re unsure if it's trying to speak or thinking of eating you. 

“Why?” The zombie’s voice is rough and raw. You assume this is because its vocal cords are damaged, and possibly because it hasn’t spoken in who knows how long. You look down at your ankle, bruises blooming across your skin. 

“Because I sprained it. Maybe fractured it. I don’t know.” You offer lamely. Why are you talking with a zombie? Are you really that desperate for some kind of human interaction, even if it comes in the form of a bloodthirsty monster? You look up when hearing the zombie grunt. You’re unsure if that was a response, or just the zombie grunting for the sake of grunting. It’s still pitch black, but your eyes have somewhat adjusted. You can see the outline of muscles and the torn fabric on its dirty and bloodied clothes. It looks like a type of uniform, but you couldn’t figure out what. The zombie has shaggy hair and strands of grown-out bangs covering its eyes. Its hand is still out stretched toward you, the other clutching onto a bar of the cell. There’s dirt packed under its broken and chipped nails. You spot what looks like a nametag on the monster’s chest. “What’s your name?” You don’t know why you’re asking. Maybe to give the zombie some human element, to make it less scary. Or maybe you’re trying to prove to yourself that this whole situation isn’t made up. 

The silence stretches out, lasting so long that you almost forget the zombie is there. You begin to wonder if you did imagine the scenario. “B…Beelze…bub.” Huh. Odd name. You rub your hands against your face, crouching over as you try to comprehend everything. Odd name aside, the zombie answered your question. You asked for a name and it gave you a name. Which meant the zombie understood your question and has been asking you questions and responding in kind. 

“How is this possible?” You ask out loud as you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. You’ve never heard of this happening; you never imagined this happening. A talking zombie that isn’t immediately trying to kill and eat you? It’s as if you fell into a completely different world. Were there others like it? Was it possible for a community of zombies to exist? The zombie, or Beelzebub, only stared in response. Perhaps it was letting you think things over, or maybe its vocal cords were on the verge of giving out. You could also be crazy.

You lean back against the wall again, your swollen and throbbing ankle nearly forgotten. “Will you eat me if I get out of here?” It was a question you did but didn’t want to be answered. You were stuck in this situation because of it, and it did try to attack you earlier. You also figured you’d ask this before asking if it would help free you from your cell. 

“Y…es…” 

Solid. You managed to find the only talking zombie in town, maybe even the world, and it still wants to eat you. You’re not sure how to feel about that. You needed to think of a way out of this. “What if you let me out, you know, find a key or something, and then you don’t eat me?” Beelzebub stares at you with an expressionless face. You’re fairly sure you see it blink one eye at a time. However, a lightbulb goes off in your head; bargaining with it might work. “Uh, if you get me a key and get me out of here, without eating me,” you find yourself emphasizing, “I’ll help you find animals to eat or something.” You haven’t seen humans in town for a long time, so you don’t know the last time Beelzebub ate. Could zombies last for periods without eating? “So? What do you think? Pretty sweet deal, right?” You fully intended on ditching this zombie as soon as it lets you out. Hopefully, it can’t tell. 

Still, you don’t receive anything in response. It’s still staring. “Key? You know, the shiny metal thing that unlocks doors? Cells?” You make a gesture with your hand in the air, mimicking unlocking a door with a key. “You know? Key?” You’re starting to sound desperate; you’re also stuck in a cell with a talking zombie for company. Is desperation really that bad of a look? 

The zombie grunts before pushing itself away from the cell bars and standing up. It turns its back to you, shuffling away quietly. Either it’s looking for a key, or it got bored of you. You’ll gladly take either option at this point. 

You sit for several minutes, trying to brainstorm ways of escape with your near-useless ankle, while also being located in the back of the police station, possibly the most dangerous place to be in town. You were also without a weapon other than your hammer, and missing your flashlight. Maybe you could brute force your way out of here? Bang on the bars enough until they give way? No, that’s ridiculous. You could try lockpicking your way out; you’ve seen it done in movies before. Maybe if you found something like a paperclip or even your fingernail-

Clank.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel something hard and cold bounce off your forehead. You look to the ground to see a shiny metal key by your hand. Looking up, you see Beelzebub staring at you from the other side of the cell bars. “Really? You threw it at my head?” But most importantly, this zombie fetched you a key. You asked for a key and it retrieved a key for you. Whether it’s the proper key or not is yet to be seen, but still, you find this astonishing. 

“Key.” It grunts out and leans against the bars again, its expression unreadable. 

“Key.” You repeat and slowly lean forward to pick up the small object. “And you’ll let me unlock the door? Without trying to eat me?” You cast a suspicious look the zombie’s way. It only grunts in response, and you struggle to decide how to take that as an answer. Regardless, your options are limited, and you don’t have much in the way of supplies when it comes to food and water. Inhaling deep, you push yourself off the ground and force your way to the door. If it tries to attack you, you can always try to outrun it. Doing so might prove slightly challenging with your ankle, but adrenaline can do wonderful things for the human body. “Can you take a step back?” You ask as you approach the cell’s bars. Unlocking the cell with your hand outstretched, a feeling of unease washes over you. The thought of it potentially seizing your hand at any moment kept you on guard, emphasizing the need for caution. It could grab your hand at any moment and bite down, why wouldn’t you be hesitant? 

You watch in slight relief as Beelzebub takes a step back, and you quickly reach your hand between the bars to unlock the door with the key. With a loud click the lock opens. You swiftly slide the door open and run for it. You don’t bother looking for your flashlight or even checking for other zombies. You just run. Your feet feel heavy as they hit the ground and a searing pain swiftly travels up your ankle with each step. How long you could keep going remained unknown as you raced away from Beelzebub. It was a relief to know that Beelzebub wasn't a Griever, but its true nature remained a mystery. Could it match the speed of a Griever? Possess greater strength? These were questions to which you had no desire to find answers.

Running down the hall, you suddenly hear loud footsteps approaching from behind. The light from the reception area is just starting to become visible. You refuse to look back and instead pick up your pace. Your ankle is screaming in agony, but you couldn’t afford to stop now. This entire thing was a bust, and you knew you’d be getting out of this situation more fucked up than you were before. 

The light is an overwhelming assault on your eyes the moment you step foot into the reception. Your vision is white as you stumble blindly, your hands outstretched as you try to grab onto a nearby item for support. You had to get your shit together and fast. The police station was always a hot spot for zombie activity and you were completely exposed. You were blinded, your ankle was an absolute mess, and you only had a hammer to defend yourself with. As your vision slowly returns, a rough hand lands on your shoulder from behind, and you struggle to suppress a blood-curdling scream. You spin around, your ankle nearly going out in the process, only to be met with Beelzebub’s fogged-over eyes. 

“Human… lied.” You swallow the growing lump in your throat as you stare up at the monster before you. Now in the light, you can see just what you’re dealing with. The zombie’s tall, but not taller than a Greiver. It’s muscular too, which oddly enough, brings some comfort. Grievers were not known for being muscular, but that didn’t mean this zombie couldn’t seriously mess you up either. 

You noticed the uniform it had on was that of a police officer, and the nametag did in fact display the name Beelzebub. So, your zombie friend was once a cop and this is likely where it died and became a zombie. Interesting. “Human prom…ised… food.” You can feel a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as its eyes bore down into you. Hopefully, it doesn’t consider you to be the food. “Human ran. Human left. I let… human out.” It seemed angry, that much was clear. Your throat was running dry, and any and all words in your head died as soon as they reached your tongue. 

“I, uh…” Could you seriously not think up any excuse? “Forgot?” On second thought, maybe it would’ve been better to stay quiet. The look on Beelzebub’s face tells you it doesn’t quite believe your words either. “Alright, look. I was nervous. Can you blame me? You’re a talking zombie and I’m your five-course meal. How am I supposed to believe that you won’t try to eat me the second my guard is down?  What if you call your zombie buddies to tell them you found the hottest meal ticket in town?” 

“Zombie… budd…ies?” There’s a look of confusion on Beelzebub’s face as it stares down at you. 

“You’re missing the point entirely.” 

“B…Beelze…bub hun...gry.” A sigh leaves you as the insistent zombie stands before you. You briefly check your surroundings. It was a risk standing in an area as open as reception. You were no stranger to the types of zombies that lingered by the police station, and you didn’t want to draw a crowd. You needed to hurry this up. 

“Look, if I feed you an animal or something, will you leave me alone?” You don’t know why you’re even trying to bargain with this thing; possibly because you want to get out of here and can’t outrun it. The zombie nods its head, or at least the best it can. “Fine, fine. Follow me and I’ll lead you back to my home. I have food there. Meat.” The word meat seems to do the trick, as the zombie’s eyes widen and it seems overall more aware. “Attack me though and I’ll kill you.” It doesn’t look very intimidated by your hammer or you. 

Once you two agree (if you can call it that), you look around the reception area. You don’t see any zombies lingering outside. It was just as clear as when you first came in. That was weird. Normally there are at least a dozen, and the fact that there were none when you first arrived or even now leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Uneasiness aside, you didn’t want to wait around for more to show up. “Alright, follow me. Stay close behind,” you turn around to narrow your eyes suspiciously at the zombie, “but not too close, and don’t get lost because I won’t come looking for you.” You couldn’t believe you were actually considering bringing a zombie home with you. 

You couldn’t see this ending well. 

[mychlapci]

Nocturnal emissions ft ageswap Prowl As mechlings of his age tend to still get nightmares and wet dreams, imagine one night, after being thoroughly exhausted from datawork, Prowl goes to recharge with a frazzled processor.

He decided that he'd defrag it in the morning, since his specs takes about four times as long as a normal mech's processor to clean, so doing it that late at night would just result in more sleep lost. Ratchet spotted the early signs of a workaholic, and took it upon himself to drill the importance of a good night's rest into Prowl. After all, sleep is a very integral part of a young mech's development!

But as he recharges, his glitchy processor, with no conscious mind awake to make sense of the running sims, which cannot be turned off, start dumping the jumbled results into his subconscious brain. And before he knew it, Prowl is caught in the throes of his first wet dream.

In his dream, he comes to in his little bunk, confused as to why it was still dark all around him. When he tries to stand up, something pounces on his face, causing him to fall back onto the pillow with a startled squeak. He couldn't see what it was, but the shape and texture was so very familiar.

Prowl's collection of stuffies are rather diverse, you see. Some of them are just big enough to fill his palms when lined together, usually in the shape of a ball, like a plush DragonQuest slime or fuzzy mechanoid urchin soft toy. Some are about as long as his forearms, just the right size for him to cuddle to his chest and bury his faceplates into. These are things like his teddy ironbear, his stuffed turbofox, his floppy gel octopus, and his tuxedo cybercat. Then lastly, we have the jumbo plushies, which are almost the size of a bolster. He has maybe two of these, one being a large pink rabbit and another is a cybertronian sized IKEA python.

His optics covered and his doorwings trapped under the blanket, he struggles in the dark, trying to get whatever fuzzy stuffie off his face. But the moment he gets a good grip on the toy, the rest of them decide to join the fray, the jumbo plushies doing most of the work to restrain and pin him.

Panicking, Prowl tries his best to thrash under the blanket, but only succeeds in turning himself over, arms and legs still pinned together by soft but firm appendages. Whatever that was on his face lets go, but a tail quickly wraps around his eyes, blindfolding him. When he tries to engage his doorwing sensors, fuzzy little paws start molesting his very sensitive hinges and rubbing all over the smooth plating, effectively rendering them useless as his senses are distracted by the soothing pets and arousing stimulation.

Helpless and caught, Prowl tries to call for help, only for a blob of fur to stuff itself into his mouth, muffling his cries. There are more plush limbs teasing him and rutting their various textured coverings all over his body now, filling his senses with delicious friction in all of his erogenous zones. After a few breems of whimpering, his instincts finally give and his plating opens up against his volition, exposing his soaked array to the dark of the room.

Immediately, small little cottonmesh paws zero in on his pulsing node and leaky spike, driving him wild with pleasure. He can only moan when he feels one of the ball plushes pressing up against the entrance to his valve, becoming sopping wet as it soaks up all of his gushing juices.

It rubs against his valvelips for a bit, rotating and pressing onto the squishy protoform, spreading and massaging the entrance. Then it starts pushing in, the soft body providing no resistance as it stuffa itself up his valve, the involuntary squeezing only helping to guide it upwards deeper and deeper into him. Prowl squeals behind his gag when he feels it press up against the aperture of his gestation chamber. Before he could get used to the pressure, another ball of fluff presses against his pussy.

The stimulation on his anterior node and little cocklet continues as the stuffies travel up his valve one by one. It's so humiliating to be taken like this, but at the same time, a traitorous part of him doesn't want to stop.

With each successive deposit, the plushies gett larger and larger, and eventually, the non-blob shaped toys are stuffing themselves into his pussy, their much larger size pressing against all of the others in the back of his valve. It's becoming such a tight squeeze in there, his ceiling node feels like it's basically being tortured with pleasure. He'a getting close to an overload.

Teary and drooling, Prowl is no longer struggling, and is instead trying to rut against the bedding and the plush toys plastered all over his needy and charged frame now, mindlessly chasing his orgasm. His pussy is so full now, it wouldn't take much more before a hard shove into the contents of his valve forces his cervical entrance open.

And whem it finally does, he cums himself awake in his real bunk, groggy but horny, clutching his favourite cybercat to his panting chest. He sits up to find that the bedding around his hips have been soaked from his sonambulistic squirting.

Extremely embarrassed, he sees to changing his bedsheets immediately, praying that no one finds out about his mishap. The twins, being early risers themselves, catch him in the act of accessing the laundry room so early in the cycle, of course.

Once they've trapped their little cadet between them and teased a confession out of him, they scoop him up and pepper him with reassuring kisses, telling him that it's normal for mechlings like him to experience such things as he weeps from his stressful recharge flux. Once all washed up, Prowl gets taken back to the twins' quarters, where he finally gets to defrag properly and go back to sleep in between his mentors, burying his face into the soft fur of an innocent, inanimate plush toy in their embrace-🔌

ouhh Prowl having silly sex dreams about plushies is so fun. Fuzzy little bodies rubbing up against his needy valve and spike, making him twitch and convulse in his bed… He wakes up in soaked sheets, his spike and valve have squirted quite the mess all over his legs, and he’s so embarrassed…

I bet that next time this happens, Sunny and Sides would love to be there to watch their trainee squirm…

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #28 – The Dead Take The A Train by Cassandra Khaw and Richard Kadrey

Oh I wanted to love this book so very much. On paper it’s basically made for me – incredibly messy fuckup of a heroine, cosmic horror through the idiom of wall street corporate sharks, grimy and gory urban fantasy full of knifing people in back alleys, the works! For the first fifty pages or so, I thought I was in love – which just made the disappointment as the wheels came off all the more bitter.

The book follows Julie, ‘barbed wire magician’ (it’s at least as unpleasant as it sounds), professional monster hunter, and all-around personal disaster. Her life takes a turn for the even messier when a) her best friend/comically oversized unresolved crush shows up at her door begging for help running from her abusive husband and b) unrelatededly but more or less simultaneously, her ex-partner-and-also-boyfriend, looking up to clean up embarrassing loose ends on his rise up the elldritch corporate ladder, baits her into trying to summon a guardian angel from a sabotaged tome and ends up releasing a metaphysical parasite that starts murdering its way through the city’s occult underground. From there things just get messier.

Drilling down as much as I can, my issues with this can be summed up as it feels like a first draft. There’s stuff there on the page – character arcs, relationships, bits of scenery and action setpieces, even themes! - but it’s all just..there. Exaggerated line sketches no one ever went back and turned into full illustrations. It’s most painful with the characters – every one of them is a caricature, precisely and exactly what they first appear to be with the same beats hit again and again every single time they appear on screen. Which more or less for the quirky supporting cast but like – we get multiple chapters from the perspective of the aforementioned abusive husband, and something like a fifth of the book is from the POV of the sleazy corporate striver ex. At no point does either one get the slightest bit of nuance or pathos – Tyler’s chapters in particular end up reading like bad SCP field reports, with so much self-destructive instituional backstabbing and betrayal it all ends up being slapstick.

Sarah the love interest gets a special anti-shout-out here. Like, I know I’m just picky about and have a low tolerance for romances, but I swear – the single most important dynamic in the book in terms of both wordcount and narrative signposting is her and Julie’s romance, and it is just So. Bad. Every single scene she’s in is dedicated to rubbing your face in how fragile and traumatized and selfless and adorable and good-hearted and damaged she is, and the entirety of the romance is essentially one of those jokes about how lesbians will spend six years living with each other awkwardly waiting for the other to ask them out but stretched across 400 pages. I spent half the book patiently waiting for any hint of hidden depths or surprising twists to her character, but nope! Just a perfect domestic angel.

The setting actually has something of a similar issue. It feels like an exaggerated pastiche of urban fantasy, assuming the reader is already familiar with all the tropes and conceits and making only the most perfunctory possible gestures towards exploring or justifying them. This can absolutely work, but if you’re doing it you kind of need to use the genre as the background or setup for something else that the book is actually about – deconstruction or satire or character study or Wacky Hijinks or something. When what’s gruesome action and drama is supposed to be the star attraction, the grounding and verisimilitude of the world is actually pretty key.

A really tight, tense plot could have absolutely redeemed the whole but, well, nope. The literal entire plot hinges on Tyler, in the course of one conversation several drinks in at a crowded bar, baiting Julie into looking for a particular type of tome from a particular store so she’ll try the ritual he had swapped out with one to curse her – but then also that he didn’t know what the ritual he swapped in actually did. The big evil wall street law firm has a corporate culture that should have collapsed about 48 hours after it was founded, and absolutely nothing about it makes sense for a place with lasting institutional power. Everyone’s morality and perceptiveness changes as the plot requires. The pacing feels like they had to pull a happy ending out of their asses at the 2/3 mark and shove the rest of the book into a sequel. It’s just, it’s bad!

Also the prose starts at fun and evocative and keeps pushing into Lovecraftian levels of adjective-addiction, and neither the A-Train nor the dead are actually at all important to the story.

Just, argh. This could have been good! The first 40 pages were a really fun schlocky monster-of-the-week story! The first ritual summoning the Proctor was basically perfect! I wanted to love this!

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Hey there! Your writing is so good, I read through the Train Me Zoro series on Ao3 and I'm just sobbing wailing scratching at the door asking for more of your content-

Anyway, I saw requests are open for the 333 follower event (Congrats!! 🎉) and the prompts are really nice so it was hard to choose but could I ask for the prompt "23. forced proximity" and "25. Confession during an argument" with Zoro and male reader? A bit humorous, Angst to fluff? And sfw or nsfw, whatever you feel like ♡ (if nsfw, afab masc reader if that's ok!) thank you so much!

Thank you!! I got super busy but I'm close to finishing that last chapter of Zoro. Train Me. series!

This is not my favorite piece I've written so I may come back and edit it eventually.

TW's: alcohol consumption (it's Zoro), small spaces, argument (angst to fluff), confession, heavy kissing

🍶WC: ~1.4k (1395 words)

333 Followers Event: Zoro x Masc!reader

Outrunning the hoard of Marines should’ve been a piece of cake. Easy. Simple. Duck into an alley and hide until they give up. But of course, you had been stuck with Zoro.

He just HAD to fight his way through the marines, sprint down a random alley, and into an abandoned house with a trap door to a tiny cellar. Marine boots thudded and stomped with fury, making dust cascade from the floorboards above your head. A particularly harsh screech of the wood made you flinch as the trap door tilted on the hinges. You counted yourself lucky you were with the swordsman so he could cut through the floor to get you out, because there was no way you’d be able to get the door open by yourself now that it was stuck like that. You shrank further back behind the wood barrels the swordsman had dragged you behind.

“Let’s go! This place is about to collapse and they’re not here” a nasally voice called out to the group, inciting a flurry of stomping boots that shook the wooden slats worryingly. You heard them fade away into the distance as you finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Without the imminent danger of being found by marines, you could finally take in your surroundings. Barrels of what were presumably alcohol lined the sides of the tiny room, and crumbling herbs hung from hooks drilled into the stone wall.

"Get off. You're heavy" Zoro's voice rumbled in your ear. You nearly jumped out of your skin as his lips grazed your neck from the proximity. You were sitting on his lap. Your body reacted quickly, jolting forward ungracefully as you crawled off him and stood quickly. He snorted at your clumsiness and stood easily before smacking his head on the wooden floor above your head with a loud thud. He groaned as he ducked and held his new wound.

"That's what you get for insulting me" you snickered.

"Shut up" he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, holding back a grin at the banter.

"C'mon. Let's get outta here" you ordered. His eyes found yours, and trailed briefly down your body to take in your confident stance.

"Nah. I don't think so."

You blinked at him, face blank with surprise. I must've misheard.

"Sorry I don't think I heard you right. What did you just say?"

He leaned over towards you, taking care to keep one hand on the ceiling so he wouldn't hit his head again. The pose only served to let his body seemingly tower over your slightly smaller frame. His face was only inches from yours, and mischief glinted in his usually stoic expression.

"Oh you heard me right. I. Said. No."

Your brows furrowed in shocked confusion rather than annoyance.

"What? Why?"

He leaned back slightly, eyeing the barrels of alcohol before seemingly deciding on one. He stepped towards the barrel and sat cross legged in front of it.

"Don't feel like it. All this alcohol shouldn't go to waste, right?"

You looked at him blankly before your annoyance bubbled over.

"Are you fucking with me? Zoro! I can't open the trap door by myself and if you're passed out from drinking, neither of us are getting out of here!"

He glanced over at you with a shrug before cracking open the barrel and drinking straight from the spigot.

"Seems like a you problem. I can get out anytime I wish. If you were stronger maybe you'd be able to get out."

You could feel the way he regretted his choice of words as soon as they left his mouth. He couldn't even blame it on the alcohol because you both knew he was nowhere near drunk.

Even though you knew he regretted it, you couldn't help your reaction.

"If I was stronger?" you echoed quietly. Zoro sighed and gulped some more alcohol. You lost it at his dismissive attitude. Your leg kicked out and your foot planted solidly on the side as you kicked it from his hands, spilling the alcohol on the flagstone floor.

"Oi! That was some good alcohol!" He looked at you angrily, but you didn't flinch at his intimidating aura, too pissed off at him. Your jaw clenched as you glared.

"You think I'm some weak fucking princess waiting for prince charming to save me? You know damn well that very few people are as strong as you. I'm on this crew for a reason and I have every right to be here even if I'm not as 'strong' as you, you alcoholic mosshead!"

His eyes narrowed as you spoke, standing and leaning over you with his hand on the ceiling again. You didn't flinch.

"I meant that you can always get physically stronger. You, Usopp, and Nami just aren't very physically strong. All three of you could stand to train a little more" he said evenly.

"You think I don't know that? That I'm not painfully aware of how 'weak' I am?! I watch you train all the time, wishing for once I could keep up with you! How could I interrupt you to ask for help training when you're so serious about being the strongest?!"

"Well if it were you interrupting me, I would be fucking happy, okay?!"

"Why?! Because I'm that fweak?!"

"Because I fucking love you!"

The words echoed off the stone walls, reverberating straight into your heart. Your anger dissipated like smoke at the confession. Zoro hissed out air between his teeth, clenching his jaw as he looked down and away from you. His body tensed as if preparing for a hit.

"...what?"

"You heard me" he said quietly. Your breath stuttered at his vulnerability, and your heart clenched at how he expected to be rejected. You reached forward, fingers finding his calloused ones. He flinched away at first, but you held firm.

"You love me?" you whispered. His gaze met yours briefly before it dropped to your lips. He swallowed hard before looking down again. He said nothing.

"Zoro. I love you too. Fuck I never thought you were interested in romance or anything so I never thought I had a chance. Even if you were, two men... it's not common."

He met your eyes as soon as he heard your answer from your lips. He looked shocked.

"You thought you never had a chance? You?"

You looked at him, a laugh escaping from your throat.

"Well, yeah! Obviously! I flirted with you and didn't get any positive reaction so I dropped it" you confessed. Zoro looked utterly confused.

"You flirted with me? I was flirting with you!"

It was your turn to be confused.

"You did? When?"

"I shared my alcohol with you!"

"That's common for crewmates! You let Nami drink your alcohol."

"I... worked out in front of you"

You couldn't help the snort that escaped.

"And as much as I enjoyed the view, there's only so much space on the ship. Face it. You aren't good at flirting."

His embarrassed groan faded into a chuckle.

"Well neither are you, apparently."

You scoffed.

"I'll have you know that I was at least better than you... idiot" your words trailed off to a caring whisper as his calloused hand curled around the back of your neck. His lips were right there. His breath fanned across your lips, sweet with the unknown alcohol he had drank before. A shudder went down your spine, and your lips parted automatically.

"Kiss me if you really mean you feel the same" he murmured. You closed the gap quickly, kissing him passionately. His lips molded to yours and his hand at the back of your neck pulled you impossibly closer as his other curled around your waist to grip at your ass. You moaned into his mouth, and he took the opening to run his tongue along yours. You sucked it into your mouth, caressing it with your own. He explored your mouth, and you let him. You nipped at his bottom lip before he separated completely, both breathing heavily.

"So. Wanna go back to the ship?" you asked breathlessly.

"Um. Yeah. Yeah we should" Zoro replied, stumbling over his words as you kissed his neck.

"Get us out of here then."

"Fine. But I'm bringing a barrel. That was some good booze."

You rolled your eyes, chuckling a little. He was still Zoro, after all.

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 18 | Concerning Claims

Chapter Eighteen | Concerning Claims

Parker woke the next morning from a startling dream. He was running from something that he couldn’t see, nor did he want to see. He was sprinting for his life. Lungs were burning. Tears streaking down his cheeks. Everything felt big and menacing.

Clouds darkened the sky within seconds. Rain came pouring down from the darkness high above his head. There was someone’s voice calling out to him. It sounded so familiar, and yet not at the same time. Waves and water threatened to choke him, filling his mouth and nose as he gasped for air.

When Parker opened his eyes, he sat bolt upright drenched in sweat and chest heaving as he looked wildly around the room.

It had been a while since he had that dream.

It was a reoccurring nightmare where the details felt too real, too close, just to be a dream.

But that’s what they were.

Dreams.

Heaving breath after breath, Parker leaned back and let his heart pound and race until it finally quieted. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and stared at the space sticker above his head while his mind processed the dream.

The digital alarm clock, right on cue, began buzzing against the far wall. It was the alarm humming away without a care in the world. The boxy numbers on the green lit screen illuminated the room in a Matrix like glow, making the waking world fell like it was still part of the dream world.

Parker gave himself ten more seconds before hoisting himself up out of bed. He pressed the hand-sized button on the side of the watch to turn it off before falling into routine. Comb through the hair. Face washed. Teeth brushed. Clothes on.

The familiar padding of his mom’s footsteps came into the room right on cue followed by the signature tap tap tap on the edge of the wall.

“Parker?” His mom’s melodic voice was followed by the sound of the creaking hinges as the wall pulled away.

“I’m up,” Parker called. The wall stopped moving but remained cracked ever so slightly. Parker took the opportunity to head into his classroom and get everything turned on.

Parker’s mom tapped the top of the opening for a moment before asking, “Do you want anything specific for breakfast? I know you’ve got a lot of presentations today. Just some jelly toast?”

Parker smiled. His mom knew him so well.

“Yes, please,” he called. “But in a little bit. I want to go over my notes again. I’ll eat during third period. Thanks mom!”

For whatever reason, Parker didn’t like eating first thing in the morning. In fact, he tended to do better throughout the day if he ate scarcely. It seemed to contradict the behavior of many of his fellow students and friends. Many of them were ravenous in the mornings recently, but not Parker. There were also a few other interesting things that were developing, but Parker wasn’t going to think about it right now.

First things first – notes.

It wasn’t until Parker leaned forward and began flicking on all of his devices that he noticed the drill bit he had brought with him the night before. He had scurried back to his bed so fast that he had almost forgotten that he had brought it with him and threw it on the ground by his computer gear.

The events of last night felt like his dream – real and not real. It was more like a memory than a dream, and this dream was staring him right in the face. The rusty flat head drill bit just laid there as if trying to tell some silent story Parker couldn’t translate.

Where did it come from?

Where did it belong?

An odd sensation of kinship came over Parker as he stared at that drill bit. Some days he felt like those questions could apply to him. Those were thought that usually happened during bouts of loneliness Parker experienced from time to time in the dark nights when he heard about his friends hanging out or going places he knew he could only dream of visiting one day – and never alone.

“Parker? Are you online?” the voice of Parker’s teacher snapped him out of his temporary distraction. He tore his eyes away from the rusty drill bit and focused on the webcam.

“Yes. Yes! Sorry. The connection was acting a bit squirely. Can you hear me?” stammered Parker. The initial startle eventually calmed, and class proceeded as normal. Parker unfortunately had to go first in his presentation because of the initial worry about his internet connection issues, but nothing like that happened.

Tests finished and papers submitted, he and his friends waved a quick good-bye since Parker decided to have lunch with his mom.

“See ya spaceman! Don’t forget! Gaming after school. If you’re late, I swear I’m coming through the screen to get you,” Billie threatened playfully as the screen went to “Please Stand By,” a screen Parker created to pan over his face when he needed to step away.

His bones ached as Parker stretched and stood up from his desk. It was finally time for lunch, and his nerves finally dissipated enough for him to feel it. For whatever reason, Parker was feeling hungrier when he did eat. He knew he operated better without it in the mornings, but recently he always felt hungry.

It was probably something to do with what his mom said about his body starting to change, but that was still on the back burner of Parker’s mind.

Now, another series of questions was keeping the teen preoccupied, and it was making him nervous. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong about what he did. Sure, he didn’t want to say anything about using the line because he knew it would worry his mom and she would probably make him take it down. At the same time, the curious things he saw by the electrical cover and the wall made him squirm in ways he hadn’t before.

Something about the darkness of the wall and how it seemed to beckon him forward startled the young teen, and hopefully his mom would know what he was talking about.

So, packing up the drill bit into a backpack, Parker headed out of his little house and, like a good little boy who didn’t want to get in trouble, climbed down the stairs. The distance from one side of the room to the other felt like an impossible distance and made the hair on the back of Parker’s neck.

The space just felt so empty.

There was nothing to climb on.

There was nothing to hide under.

Parker shook his head as he processed what he had actually just thought.

Where did that come from?

It was ridiculous. Why would he need to hide? There was no reason to hide in his own home. While the sensation of being completely exposed in a mostly empty room loomed in Parker’s mind, he elected to walk calmly across the wooden floor.

He had just made it to the door when he heard a little tap tap tap on the door high above him. Parker’s heart hit the top of his throat and he backed toward the trim, but stopped halfway and corrected his course back toward the door.

What was with him today?

“Parker? Are you finished with class?” his mom called softly as she cracked open the door.

“Hey momma! Down here! Yeah, we’re breaking for lunch,” called Parker. His mom’s eyes flicked from the little house to the floor where she immediately spotted him. He waved as big as he could and stepped back a few steps as she knelt and held out her hand to him.

“Well, perfect timing then,” his mom smiled. Parker clambered onto his mom’s hand and noticed the faint scent of cheese and butter accompanied by the faint smell of spices. If he was right, she made grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. “How did your projects go? Good so far? Feeling confident?”

Parker folded his legs crisscross style and braced as the hand beneath him lifted him high into the air. There was always an exciting yet nauseating sensation that came with his mom picking him up from the ground.

He thought about the questions and eventually shrugged as his mom rested her hand on the table for him to disembark.

“I think I did well. I had to go first most of the time since I was worried about my internet connection,” Parker replied. He felt something inside of him squirm uneasily.

“Yeah? Well, better to get it out of the way and then you get time during class to just relax,” responded his mom. Parker had heard that line before, and he knew she was right. Though he didn’t tell her, he had been using some of his spare time in class to work on his own writing.

Now wasn’t the time to think about his in-class activities, however.

Parker sadly had no inkling of how he wanted to go about asking, but the direct approach generally worked out for him. So, that’s what he decided to do.

“Um… actually… mom? Could… I ask you something?”

“You can always ask me anything and I’ll answer as best as I can.”

His palms suddenly felt clammy. Something in the back of his mind felt deceptive, like he wanted to keep this thing about the power and the drill bit a secret.

But why?

Why would he feel that way?

“Parker? You okay sweetie? You look a bit pale all of a sudden.”

Parker snapped out of his temporary stupor and looked up, realizing his brow felt a bit clammy too. He reached up and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, shuddering as he realized he had a light cold sweat on his brow.

“Yeah… yeah… I’m fine. I just… well… I got a bit spooked last night from the lights and that whole thing was just… in my mind just now,” stammered Parker.

“Oh… sweetie… I’m sorry. Did you have a nightmare about it?” At his mom’s question, Parker remembered more fragments of his dream. He remembered a hand reaching out and grabbing him. He remembered a voice shouting something at him as the rain pummeled the ground around him.

“N-no. I had a… different dream. Well. Nightmare. It’s the same one… about the storm.”

Amanda’s face immediately filled with sympathy. She knew about the reoccurring nightmare Parker experienced about some raging storm and darkness coming at him from all directions. In her heart of hearts, Amanda suspected her tiny, adopted son was catching glimpses of the past of where he was before, but she didn’t dare bring anything up – not yet.

When he asked the questions, she would answer them.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. You could’ve come and gotten me. Or rang the bell. I would’ve gotten up. You can wake me at any time,” said Amanda. Her heart ached as she thought about Parker shivering sad, frightened and alone in the other room.

“I know, but I wasn’t that scared. It was just a dream,” mumbled Parker as he averted his eyes. Amanda watched as Parker reached into his makeshift backpack and, to her heart sinking surprise, produced a rusty drill bit.

Immediately, a thousand thoughts ran through her head.

Where did he get that?

That doesn’t look like one of mine.

Why is it so rusty?

Wait… if he didn’t get it from me… where did it come from?

Parker’s question, raised by his thoughtful, tiny voice, brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Mom? Is this one of yours?” Amanda set her jaw and held out her hand for Parker to place the drill bit. He surrendered it willingly and looked up expectantly for an answer. Amanda lifted it up, pinching it between her index finger and thumb, and rolled it around. The flathead had small scuff marks that she was sure Parker noticed along the tip which had scraped away parts of the rust.

It had been used – and recently.

What was worse was that she didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t part of her tool kit; but if it didn’t come from there, where did it come from?

“Where did you find this?” she asked as she felt her hands starting to shake, her thoughts now kicking back into high gear.

“By the electrical cover, which was a bit loose,” replied Parker. “And… there was something else too…”

Amanda swallowed dryly.

What was Parker going to say?

Was there any way to stop it?

Was it happening? Right here right now?

“Oh?” Amanda prayed Parker couldn’t hear the strain in her voice.

“Yeah. There was a weird mark on the wood. I… well… I went down to double check that the power cord wasn’t going to blow in the middle of my presentations and everything. I went down and found that by the electrical cover that we replaced. And I know you have a flathead, but it doesn’t look rusty like this so I looked at the cover and it was off slightly.

“So, I gave it a nudge and it came loose and there was this weird pencil mark on the wood. I can show you. It’s kinda small and looks like a little house with a checkmark on the inside. So, anyway, I just wanted to ask you if you know what it is and if this was yours.”

When Parker finished, Amanda felt completely sick to her stomach. Parker’s questions about where this mystery thing came from was part of her worst nightmares, and it was dangerously close to the truth.

Because, ultimately, Amanda’s thoughts went wild and made the dangerous leap that Parker might not be the only small person living under her roof.

If the tool piece wasn’t part of her kit and wasn’t there before when she was working with Parker, then someone had to leave it there; and that someone couldn’t have been much bigger than Parker.

It was only logical.

It was the only thing that made sense.

But… if that’s the case… does whoever it is know about Parker?

Are they going to leave him alone?

Are they going to talk to him?

What if they try to hurt him?

How long have they even been he-

“Mom?”

Amanda took her first breath in a moment and looked down into Parker’s thoughtful brown eyes. There was something in those sweet, innocent eyes that sent a pang through Amanda’s chest.

How?

How could she do it?

How could she tell this wonderful little boy that he wasn’t hers? At least, not entirely.

More importantly, why hadn’t this mysterious other person, if they were still around, come and talked to Parker? Or her for that matter?

Amanda took another deep breath and looked at the drill bit, making the decision of a lifetime.

Ultimately, Parker didn’t ask about himself or where he was from.

He only asked about the drill bit and the markings he found.

Answer the questions he’s ready for. If he didn’t ask, he’s not ready. If he asks follow-up questions after this… so be it.  

“It’s weird,” she said after clearing her throat a few times. “I don’t recognize it. I don’t know where it came from. I can put it with my things if you’d like. Maybe it did come from an old kit of mine.”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I don’t need it,” replied Parker. “And the markings?”

“I can’t say without seeing it myself. They don’t look like carpentry marks or construction marks?” Parker shook his head to his mom’s questions.

“Nope. It’s just weird,” Parker stated. When her son didn’t ask any additional questions, Amanda put a pin in the conversation and decided to change the subject.

“Well, we can discuss this a bit more after you finish school. Until then, you need to get some food down. Your lunch break is almost over. Goodness, they don’t give you any time at all,” suggested Amanda as she picked herself up from the table and brought over the grilled cheeses and tomato soup she had made.

“Yeah, right. Thanks mom,” smiled Parker. He took his bowl and plate graciously and began eating his food in little bites, his appetite stunted by this interaction he had with his mom.

There was something in the air that lingered around like a bad smell. There was a tremor to her voice and a tremble to her hand. Parker wasn’t sure what it was. His mom seemed just a little frazzled.

But why?

Parker glanced back up at his mom and noticed her frequent nervous glances in his direction. That little curious voice in the back of his head forced him to surrender and ask once more, “Mom? You sure you don’t know where that came from?”

Parker watched as him mom’s fingers fumbled on her spoon, dropping it with an ear shattering clang as it fell back into the bowl. It made both of them jump out of their skin before Parker’s mom cleared her throat and nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she claimed before biting her lower lip and slowly making eye-contact with Parker. “Where do you think it came from?”

Parker averted his eyes and shrugged, embarrassed to say he didn’t have an answer. That curious part of him wondered once more about what he saw last night when he stepped out of his room.

Was what he saw really a shadow? And, if so, what made it?

Was that what left the drill bit? The shadow?

One thing was certain, and it was that Parker knew shadows didn’t make themselves – and his mother’s curious claim of not knowing wasn’t sitting well with him.

Was… his mom… keeping something from him?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[tessathegamefreak]

Uuuuuhhhh...... Screw it. Let's do another quicksand role play involving Bls and Bo. They're unmasked, they're hinge handcuffed, they're drugged and abducted, you know the drill.

But this time, D is with Nala. And both Bls and Bo are in the Gerudo clothes. It was my idea, not Nala's. I think this would more humiliating to them, don't you think?

[Well then, I guess let's get to it-]

The two had just been taken hostage by Nala. They groaned and moaned as they slowly came to. As the two antagonists begin to stir awake, the boys find that their movements are constricted. They realize they are put into handcuffs, specifically ones that they can't slip out of. And something else...

Bls: Wh- Where... Are we... And... What... My clothes...

As they wake up a bit more, they begin to realize that they aren't in the same clothes. They immediately notice that their midriffs and lower legs are exposed in the Gerudo outfits they are wearing.

Bo: What the- Why are we in these weird clothes again?!? Where are we??!?