#his name is bob the blob

[jellohell]

[callsign-mayhem]

heaven is a place on earth (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 4.6k CW: Smut and swearing. MINORS DNI.

A roller rink with the Daggers, a bet with Bradley Bradshaw, and a photo booth that’s about to get way too hot. Lose the game, make the move—neither one of you is backing down, especially when the stakes are so high.

Rollerskating was—of course—Mickey’s idea. Who else, at the ripe age of 32, would suggest it when faced with the question of what to do on a Friday night?

It had come about earlier in the week when Javy complained that he was bored of spending every Friday at The Hard Deck. At first, you were shocked to hear it, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you felt the same. The Hard Deck was great and would always be the Dagger Squad’s designated hangout spot, but you could do with a change.

Everybody agreed, but by Thursday night, there was still no plan for the following evening. Jake had suggested a country bar in the city, which you and Reuben had liked the sound of. Turns out, you were the only ones.

Natasha had suggested sushi, but you weren’t a fan and Mickey didn’t think it was exciting enough for your first Friday adventure away from The Hard Deck.

You were getting ready for bed when the text came through to the Dagger Squad group chat.

And that’s how you found yourself lacing up the old pair of skates you’d dug out from the back of your closet.

‘Since when do you own rollerskates?’ Jake retorted.

‘Since college.’ You replied. ‘I got a lot of use out of them. I had a friend who loved skating, and she forced me to buy a pair.’

Jake raised a brow. ‘Doesn’t match up with the version of you I have in my head.’

‘You’re just annoyed ‘cause I’m gonna show you up. Bet you’re shit at skating.’ You smirked.

Bradley, who was lacing up his own skates next to you, huffed a laugh. Jake’s shit-eating grin faltered. He was getting that look he always got when he challenged someone.

‘How hard can it be?’ He asked, full of fake bravado.

‘It’s harder than it looks.’ You told him.

‘Ten bucks says you fall on your ass before I do.’

You looked up at him and smirked, reaching your hand out so you could shake on it. ‘Oh, you’re so on.’

‘Material Girl’ by Madonna blasted through the overhead speakers, and disco lights spattered the rink with colour. The neon-coloured seats outside the rink were shaped like giant blobs of paint, and the Daggers were spread across three of them, getting ready to make total fools of themselves.

Bob shifted uneasily as he eyed his feet, trying to figure out how to stand up without sprawling flat out on the ground. You stood up easily and glided over to him, earning you a whistle from Reuben.

‘You okay, Bobby?’ You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

He offered you a weak smile. ‘I’ve never skated before.’

‘That’s okay, I’ll help.’

You held out both hands and he took them tentatively. His palms were slick with nervous sweat, and you had to swallow a laugh. It would only make him more nervous if he thought you were making fun of him.

‘Alright, on the count of three. One…two…’

And then you pulled him up. He couldn’t straighten his legs at first, and he wobbled a bit, but after a couple of seconds he was standing up straight and steady.

‘There you go.�� You praised. ‘Easy peasy.’

Nat, who was leaning against the edge of the rink waiting for everyone, clapped.

‘Now you’ve actually gotta move, Floyd.’ She called out.

Bob glanced at her nervously.

‘Ignore her. You fly in multi-million dollar jets every day, Bob. You can get yourself from here to the rink.’

Thankfully, this turned out to be precisely the right thing to say. You held on to one of his hands, and the two of you gently edged over to Nat. It took longer than it should have, but he was still upright by the time he got there, so you counted that as a win.

‘Well done.’ You beamed.

You were about to step out onto the rink when Mickey called out your name.

‘Can I get a ride, too? I’m stuck!’ He yelled.

You rolled your eyes. ‘This was your idea!’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know how to skate!’

You whizzed over to where Mickey was standing. He smiled sheepishly as you took his hand and repeated the same steps you’d taken with Bob. Mickey almost fell over, but he was right by the rink by that point, so he grabbed the edge to stop it from happening.

Effortlessly, you spun around. ‘Okay, anybody else?’

Bradley rolled over almost as effortlessly as you had. He was wearing one of his more ‘out there’ Hawaiian shirts, and the pink flowers seemed to glow in the dark. Honestly, you were a bit gutted that he didn’t need your help—it would’ve been a good excuse to hold his hand.

He leaned down so you would be able to hear him. ‘Hangman needs help, but he’s too proud to admit it.’ Bradley murmured, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

You hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps that broke out across your skin.

‘I wouldn’t help him even if he asked.’ You retorted.

Javy and Reuben managed to get over to the rink's edge without much trouble, but Jake was checking his phone one last time and ensuring it was secure in the pocket of his jeans.

‘What’re you waitin’ for, Hangman?’ You shouted.

He rolled his eyes, and you and Bradley both laughed.

Jake on roller skates reminded you of a baby deer that hadn’t learned to walk properly yet. You suspected you would be ten bucks richer in the next five minutes.

Madonna gave way to ‘Take On Me’ by Aha, and Bradley nudged your arm with his elbow.

‘I love this song, let’s get out there. Hangman will catch up.’

His smile and joyous energy were infectious, so you followed him onto the rink without a word, and without looking back at poor Jake who was stuck behind a group of kids who were skating better than he was.

‘It’s the carpet.’ You heard him say. ‘I’ll be fine once I get off the carpet.’

Reuben, Coyote, and Nat were right behind Bradley and you. You mistakenly thought it would be a while before any of them could catch up on you, but then Nat glided past you, her dark hair billowing out behind her.

‘Whoa, Phoenix! I thought you couldn’t skate!’ Bradley exclaimed.

She spun around, so she was rolling backwards. ‘I never said that. There are plenty of things you don’t know about me!’

She sped off. Reuben and Javy tried to catch up, but their glides weren’t long enough, and they wobbled a lot.

‘You’re shuffling, not skating.’ You instructed. ‘You need to push the tips of your toes into the floor and then push forward.’

They wore matching confused frowns, and you huffed in annoyance. ‘It’s hard to explain. Just watch my feet!’

When the song's chorus kicked in, you pushed off and started taking long strides across the rink. When you got close to the edge, you leaned to your left to get around the corner, and then picked up your speed. It felt like being 21 again, carefree and full of boundless energy.

By the time Mickey, Bob and Jake finally joined the rest of the squad on the rink, you'd done three loops.

Reuben and Javy watched you closely; before long, they were building their confidence. Bradley was skating next to them, watching you with an impressed smirk.

It was easily the most fun you’d had in months.

Especially when Jake got too cocky, sped up and went straight into the barrier around the rink. You felt it in your body when he smashed into the floor.

You got to him quickly and helped him back onto his feet.

‘Are you hurt?’ You asked.

‘Just my pride.’

You grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘In that case, you owe me ten dollars.’ You said, and then you were on your way again.

Nat was teaching Bob and Mickey the same technique you’d taught Javy and Reuben, who were now racing each other around the rink. You’d slowed down next to Bradley to watch the commotion that was sure to end in tears.

Not five seconds later, the same group of kids that had gotten in Jake’s way were right in their path. The pair of them were going way too fast to stop, and before you could shout, the whole lot of them were in a pile on the floor. Both you and Bradley doubled over in hysterics, unable to breathe properly.

You were laughing so hard that you almost fell over. Bradley grabbed your waist with his big, strong hands, steadying you immediately. The warmth of his touch through the skin-tight fabric of your tank top was something you doubted you’d be able to forget anytime soon.

‘Easy, sweetheart.’ He said gruffly.

Your heart pitter-pattered, loud and fast enough that you were sure he could hear it over ‘Heaven Is A Place On Earth.’ Your mind wandered to the other places you wouldn’t mind those hands being, and you were nearing dangerous territory. Like, not-being-able-to-look-Bradley-in-the-eye-without-kissing-him territory.

But then Mickey rolled up beside you, the rest of the Daggers in tow, demanding your hand. Apparently, there was a first time for everything, because suddenly, you’d all made one long link. A friendship link, as Mickey had so gleefully yelled. You were skating around the rink in one long chain, laughing and singing along to Belinda Carlisle. It was a neon-coloured, cotton-candy scented dream.

Nearly two hours passed. The time flew by so quickly that when someone announced over the intercom that the seven o'clock group had only 5 minutes left, you were genuinely gobsmacked.

‘There’s no way we’ve been here that long already!’ Mickey exclaimed.

‘I know right,’ you said, pretty bummed out. ‘We’re gonna have to come back, I really enjoyed tonight.’

Nat looped her arm through yours. ‘I think even Hangman enjoyed himself towards the end.’

Jake was in front of you, trying to learn how to skate backwards with Bradley, who kept catching your eye on purpose.

There had always been chemistry between you, but nothing had ever come of it. In actual fact, tonight was the most obvious the two of you had been about it.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to dwell on this too much, because you had to get off the rink. The group chatted happily as they removed their skates and put their shoes back on. Everybody else had rented skates, so you went outside to wait while they returned them.

After two hours of skating, the fresh air was a relief. Your skates were tied together, slung over your shoulder, and you closed your eyes and lifted your face to the sky, breathing deeply. A night with your squad always left you feeling whole in ways that alone time didn’t.

‘Y/N!’ Bradley called.

You turned around to find him standing in the doorway holding what appeared to be two beers.

‘There’s an arcade upstairs, and bowling. You comin’ back in?’

This wasn’t part of the plan, but you were happy that the night wasn’t over yet.

‘What, so I can kick your ass at every game?’ You teased.

Bradley cocked a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he suppressed a smirk. God, you wanted to kiss that stupid mouth.

‘How about we make a bet of our own?’ He said, watching as you strolled over to him.

You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him, close enough that if you stood on your tiptoes just slightly, your lips would be touching.

‘What do you have in mind?’

He stared at you intently, eyes dark with lust. His brief glance at your glossed lips was a dead giveaway. ‘First one to lose a game has to make the first move.’ He rasped.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, and he released a short, exasperated breath.

‘Deal.’

Reuben, Javy, Bob and Mickey were locked into a serious game of bowling. You weren’t sure, but you thought they were playing for money. Nat and Jake were playing air hockey—rather viciously. After dumping your skates, you and Bradley set about choosing a game to play.

Mickey had really lucked-out by finding this place. The arcade was chock-full of different games and amusements—so many that you were overwhelmed by choices.

Bradley suggested Mortal Kombat, to which you politely declined. You counter-offered the race car sim, but Bradley wasn’t feeling it.

After playfully debating pros and cons for most of the games, the pair of you found yourself in front of Dance Dance Revolution.

There were so many pros for this one. For one, you kicked ass at DDR. For two, you would be in close proximity the entire time. You could accidentally trip him up or something.

Bradley shook his head slowly. ‘Uh-uh. Nope.’ He made a point of popping the ‘p’.

‘Why?’ You whined. ‘Please, it’ll be fun. Besides, I suck at this game so I’ll probably lose anyway.’ You lied.

Bradley eyed you suspiciously. Then, he got distracted and he trailed over your entire body. You might as well have been standing naked in front of him, for the way it made you feel.

He licked his bottom lip and you shivered. ‘Fine. Dance battle it is.’

You stepped onto the DDR platform, rolling your shoulders as the neon lights flickered over the screen. Bradley took the spot next to you, cracking his knuckles like he was about to go into battle.

He glanced over, that cocky smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Think you can keep up with me, sweetheart?’ He teased, nudging your shoulder.

The machine beeped, the song selection flashing across the screen, and you scrolled through the options with deliberate slowness, dragging out the moment just to watch him fidget. His hands settled on his hips, chest rising and falling as he exhaled through his nose. Oh, he wants to win. Badly.

But when you finally picked a song and stepped back, Bradley leaned in—just enough for his breath to ghost over your cheek—and murmured, ‘Hope you don’t get too distracted.’

The countdown ticked down, and the first notes of the song exploded from the speakers. The arrows rolled up the screen, and you both moved in sync, feet tapping out the rhythm like it was second nature. You were laser-focused—at first. But then you glanced over, and Bradley was watching you, not the screen.

He was still nailing every step, his body moving effortlessly, but his eyes? They flickered over to yours, his smirk widening when he caught you looking. Oh, he was playing dirty.

‘You’re slowing down, sweetheart.’ He taunted over the pounding bass, his voice smug and dripping with amusement.

You gritted your teeth and snapped your gaze back to the screen, doubling down—faster steps. Perfect timing. Your score started climbing, matching his. But then—distraction struck back.

Bradley suddenly rolled his hips with the beat, his arms lifting slightly like he was actually dancing instead of just playing, and your brain stuttered.

‘Oh, come on.’ You huffed, missing an arrow.

His laughter was rich and victorious, but you didn’t have time to glare at him. The song kicked into high gear, the steps coming rapid-fire, and you forced yourself to focus, willing your feet to move faster, faster, until—

The screen flashed.

PLAYER TWO: GAME OVER.

Your heart sank as you realised what just happened. One tiny misstep, one moment of distraction, and—

Bradley whooped, punching the air. ‘And that, sweetheart, is game.’ He crowed, stepping off the platform with the swagger of a man who knew exactly what was coming next.

Your stomach flipped as he turned back to face you, grinning like the cat who got the cream. ‘You remember the bet, don’t you?’

Oh, you remembered.

And from the way he was looking at you—his lips slightly parted, his hands twitching at his sides like he was holding himself back—so did he.

You’d felt pretty confident up until about five seconds ago, and now the rug had been ripped out from under you. The DDR machine was in a poorly lit corner at the back of the arcade. Panicking slightly, you scanned your surroundings, trying to devise a plan. What if someone saw you? Were you supposed to kiss him?

Then your attention was snagged by the photo booth against the opposite wall. It was nestled between the back wall and a claw machine full of Jellycats. If this next part went well, you made a mental note to bring Bradley back here and make him win one for you.

Now you had a plan, your confidence was slowly trickling back in. After one more glance around the space to make sure none of the Daggers were watching, you grabbed Bradley’s hand and pulled him towards the photo booth.

‘Romantic.’ He quipped, a shit-eating grin to rival Jake’s plastered on his face.

If you thought DDR was close quarters, this was something else entirely. The bench was just big enough for the two of you.

You pushed the button to start it up, and prepared to pose for the first picture.

You knew the first one would be cute, because you and Bradley were both grinning like lovesick fools. As the countdown began for the second picture, your confidence finally hit max capacity…

Without giving yourself time to back out, you put your hand on the top of Bradley’s thigh and just before the camera snapped, you (not so) gently grabbed his dick. Now you were the one sporting the shit-eating grin, and Bradley’s head snapped towards you. That move had made him practically rabid.

You stared each other down, the countdown totally forgotten about. It didn’t matter, anyway. You were perfectly on time without even trying.

One minute, you were staring, and the next, Bradley was on you. Your hands were in his hair as he pulled you onto his lap and let both of his hands rest on your ass. The kiss was sloppy and frantic; you didn’t dare stop even though you were breathless. You’d been waiting a long time for this. You silently thanked your past self for choosing this little white tennis skirt. You could feel Bradley’s hard-on through your underwear.

His hands, which were on top of your skirt, now reached under so he was touching bare skin (another thank you to your past self for the pretty white thong). This only seemed to intensify the moment, because his lips moved to your neck. It was your turn to make noise when he began sucking on the sweet spot just below your earlobe. Honestly, you hadn’t meant for the moan to escape you, but it had, and he’d definitely heard it.

Bradley stopped only to tease you. ‘Oh, you like that do you?’

‘B-bradley.’ You breathed.

‘Okay, okay.’ He whispered. ‘I’ll carry on.’

And he did. You became a squirming, writhing mess on top of him, and he was eating it up. You’d lost the bet and you wanted to take some control back. While he was busy kissing your neck, you undid the button and zipper on his jeans, and reached in. You were sly and quick about it, and he barely had enough time to register what you were doing before you were palming his dick over his boxers.

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat as he tilted his head back up to look at you. His eyes were all pupil, and his cheeks were as red as the photo booth curtain. How was it possible for a man to be so fucking sexy and so adorable at the same time?

You had him right where you wanted him. Or so you’d thought. Stupidly, you found yourself getting distracted by the size of him, and that’s when he took two fingers and slipped them underneath the wet fabric separating you from him. All he had to do was make one stroke, and you were mewing in his lap.

‘Unless you want me to fuck you in this photobooth,’ you snapped. ‘You better cut that shit out.’

A deep, husky chuckle rolled through him, vibrating against your chest. You were half-joking, but he took your threat seriously. Adjusting slightly, he pulled his jeans down so they were at his knees, and then let you resume your former position. If you shimmied forward slightly, you’d be sitting directly on his dick, just his boxers and your flimsy underwear between you. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to decide whether to do that or not, because Bradley gripped your thighs and pulled you forward.

Dizzy with lust, you reached around and pulled his length from his boxers. Following your lead, he pulled your thong to the side, and slowly pushed two fingers deep into the heat of you. You bit back a moan that would have been far too loud, and his smirk was so frustrating that you had to cover his mouth with yours to hide it. He licked your bottom lip, and you let him taste you. It was a good distraction from the noises you were thinking about making.

‘I don’t have a condom.’ He whispered against your lips.

You were in such a state of ecstasy that you could barely get two words out. You just about managed to say one, which was simply ‘pill.’

He chuckled darkly again, and you tightened around his fingers. ‘Can you give me a full sentence, pretty girl? I need to make sure we’re both on the same page.’

He was being genuine, but he also couldn’t help himself. He added another finger and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head.

‘Sweet girl?’ He prompted.

You had a death grip on his bicep. ‘I’m. On. The. Pill.’ You said through gritted teeth.

‘See,’ he whispered, positioning himself beneath you. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

‘I’m gonna get you back for that someday, Bradshaw.’

‘I look forward to it.’

His tip pressed against your entrance. Briefly, you wondered what would happen if one of the Daggers, or some random stranger, came down to this end of the arcade. But then you were sinking onto Bradley’s cock, and the worries just melted away. As he gripped your hips and to help you get a rhythm, the phrase ‘rearrange my guts’ took on a totally new meaning. You groaned, and Bradley captured your lips in a brief kiss.

‘Quiet, sweetheart.’

Something about his commanding tone made it harder to keep quiet. You bit down on your lip to keep from shouting his name at the top of your lungs.

You were having sex. With Bradley Bradshaw. In a photo booth.

If Bradley hadn’t suddenly grabbed your hips, lifted you slightly, and started thrusting up into you, you would’ve laughed.

‘Fuck,’ he stuttered. ‘You feel so good.’

You were close. You tightened around him and he groaned again—it was your new favourite sound.

‘I’m-’

‘Me too.’

And then both of you were coming. Hard. His head rolled back as he tipped over the edge and spilled into you. It felt like someone had used your nerve endings to light a match.

You rode out your highs together, and when you were spent, you let out a long, shaky breath.

‘Holy fuck.’ You said.

Bradley ran a hand through his hair. ‘Well, I hope you like souvenirs, baby, ‘cause we’re keeping those pictures.’

You laughed. ‘We should probably get out of here. We’ve been missing a while.’

He kissed you again, for good measure. ‘I need to ask you something.'

You cocked your head. ‘What?’

‘Was that a one time thing?’

‘I really, really hope not.’

Back at the bowling lanes, Jake and Nat had joined in the fun. When you and Bradley appeared, everybody turned. Jake grinned wickedly. You locked eyes with Bob and he diverted his gaze very quickly. Nat was glaring at Bradley like a disappointed mother. Mickey and Reuben both handed Javy twenty bucks. All of this happened over the course of five, extremely drawn-out seconds.

‘You two were gone a while.’ Nat pointed out, folding her arms.

You and Bradley glanced at each other, unsure how to approach this situation.

‘We were playing Dance Dance Revolution.’ You told her. ‘I lost a bet.’

‘Really.’ She droned, sounding almost bored.

Oh, she knew alright.

You scrambled for something to say, tried to ignore the heat of everyone’s eyes burning into you. It was like they could see your sinful act written all over you.

And the ground might as well have opened up and swallowed you whole when Nat said: ‘Take any nice pictures?’

A/N: Just a little one shot while I try to motivate myself to finish my WIPs. This is my first time writing smut, so if it sucks, go easy on me.

[shroomiethefrogwhisperer]

People like my fuckin alien shit

So here. Have a list of all my characters.

Karen: Ship's mechanic. Human (American-Indian). Fun, snarky, mom vibes, dabbles in illegal drug dealing. She/Her, heterosexual. Has a brown bob with a side undercut, blue eyes, and dark tanned skin, lots of tattoos (including Rainbow Dash). She's like 36.

Steve: Comms Expert. Human (Korean-Japanese). Chill, easygoing, likes video games and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, can and will beat your ass at fortnite. He/Him, gay. Has short black hair, dark brown eyes, pale skin, and a few piercings. He's in his early twenties.

Moss: Translator. Human (Hispanic). Chaotic, sarcastic, an absolute gremlin, has a pet ratbird (keeps trying to domesticate the entire ratbird infestation that lives in the pipes). They/It, pansexual polyamorous. Has curly, bright green/pink hair, blue eyes, and slightly tanned skin. They're twenty-nine.

Zzgnaru. Ship's Captain. Alien (Nobletsk). Tired parent vibes, serious, literal, bad at nuance, loves plushies. Xey/xem, aroace. Brown/black scales, 6 yellow eyes, white horns, spiky tail, pink claws. Xey're 52.

Amethyst: Navigator. Alien (Penaconian). Sweet, happy, literally a ball of sunshine, everyone's sweetheart cutie who also has anxiety. Obsessed with anime (Moss showed him JJK and AoT, and now he's into KnY, MHA, and, like, Helluva Boss.) He/they, demiromantic bisexual. Short blonde hair with purple highlights, hazel eyes, pale skin. He's 32.

Banana: First Mate. Alien (Zzbrk). Comedic, silly, madly in love with Moss (BUT IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET), completely unserious like Captain Jack Sparrow unserious. She/fae, poly, omnisexual. Yellow/brown scales, vitiligo skin, golden eyes, shaved head, white spikes. She's 43.

Douri: Weapons Operater #1. Alien (Aaki). Depressed as shit, loose cannon-type shit, can and will eat your tacos. It/Its, asexual panromantic. Basically just a humanoid blob of orange slime. No one knows its age.

Josh: 2nd Mate. Human (American). Kind of a psycho, hilarious, autistic, likes sharks. And things that look like sharks. Steve’s boyfriend. He/Him, bisexual. Black dreadlocks, umber skin, dark eyes. He's also in his twenties.

Rhïianae: Weapons operator #2. Alien (Jawa). Collects random shit and makes guns out of them. Has severe adhd. Can never finish a project (took apart a secondary engine about a year ago and it's still disassembled). ??? skin, orange eyes, ??? Hair. Fae/Faun/It, demisexual polyamorous. Faun's in its mid-thirties.

Calixtian: Ship's Doctor. Alien (Penaconian). Likes doing experiments on beings of lesser sentience (or heck, same level-sentience, he doesn't care), mad scientist-esque, no one likes him. Blue-green hair, orange eyes, vitiligo skin. He/Him, aromantic. He's 46.

Nøræxx: Interplanetary criminal. Alien (Asgardian). Wanted for weapons smuggling and illegal mercenary work. Is the cavalry reserved for when Douri and Rhïinae are out, is the bodyguard. Dark hair, green eyes, tanned skin. She/He/They, cupioromantic asexual. 500+ years old.

Bastier. Comms student. Human (British). Clueless, cute, easily confused, has OCD, likes cats. Speaks 8 interplanetary languages (not including Earth languages, which he speaks at least twenty of). Blonde hair, pale skin, blue eyes. He/Him, heterosexual (bicurious). 19 years old.

The Ship. "Steroid Annihilator". Modified Class 8 Torigrian K-Wing Destroyer. Got its name when Zzgnaru, Karen, Douri, and Steve successfully piloted it through the Inter-Galaxian Asteroid Fields. Zzgnaru wanted to name it Ssjuokimbl (Conqueror of Rocks), but Steve suggested Asteroid Annihilator instead, and when they got it painted on the side, the artist doing the paint job spelled it wrong. Karen couldn't stop laughing for days.

Note: Steve is a Chill Gay™️, and Josh is a Chaotic Gay™️.

[inkuinky]

Nico Di Angelo was staring at the lake, feeling the cold breeze on top of the picnic mat when Will Solace came to him, all running and sweaty. “Nico! sorry I’m late, the infirmary was suddenly having shifts change, so I was healing another child from the burn of the lava, and when my shift ends, I immediately went straight—well not straight since i swing both ways but you know what I mean, darling—to get our notebooks and—” and Nico smiles, Will immediately went quiet and full grinning at the sight of his two-years commiting, beautiful, breathtaking boyfriend. yes, this is their two years anniversary.

“It’s okay, you dork. I knew there was shifts change so I went here instead. the weather was calming anyway and it doesn’t bother me. how are you feeling, Solace?” sweet apollo, he’s beautiful. how did Will get to deserve him?

“fine, but better since I now see my beautiful boyfriend in front of me.” Nico chuckles as Will sat down beside him, putting the two journals—black and yellow—beside the picnic basket. “you sappy dork, seriously cheesy? this early?” Will kiss his boyfriend’s cheek as an answer. “it’s never too early to compliment my lover.” then there was the comfortable silence, as if there were words that cannot be spoken but enough to tell how in love they are. how comfortable they are with eachother’s presence.

it’s been one year since the tartarus visit. since they help Bob the Titan escape and be free. since they both had Cocoa Puffs to take care as they scatter around like blobs. they have been dating for two years. two years. how crazy is that? they sure has a lot of talk after that, hell they even cuddled in peace after that. ‘cause no matter what, a tartarus visit or even a daily life in Camp Half-Blood, they know they can face it as long they’re together. they may not Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, but they have eachother, and it’s enough.

“so, who’s journal are we going to read first?” Will finally open voice, despite the comfort he found in his partner’s present.

“yours.”

“boooo~ no, you first.”

“why do I even argue?”

“because you love me.”

“do I?” Nico’s answer was an immediate whine from Will.

“oh please you’re being dramatic! hurry up if you want to read mine, or I’m going to read yours—“ Nico was already reaching for the yellow journal when Will immediately snatched the black journal and reads it out loud.

“ 1, Fall. you wrote seasons in your journals too?” Nico groans as he just let Will rests his head atop of his lap, stroking the soft, blonde curls. “sweet hades, just read it already!” Will grins wider as he catch the glimpse of Nico’s reddening ears. beautiful. of course he’s beautiful, it’s the Nico Di Angelo after all. Angel is his name.

“ Will Solace told me (us actually ). to have this journal thing going on. said that it was apart of healing from the journey. so here I am.

I’m bad with words actually— that’s a lie! those poetry? Nico, you’re under-grading yourself!” Nico rolled his eyes at this sentences and mutter a soft “continue reading it. you’re embarassing me, Solace.”

“but since I have Solace in front of me, smiling as he write his own journal, I will try. It’s crazy, really, whatever he can do to me with only such smile in beautifully carved face of his.

he has a really bushy blonde curls, which are very soft if you stroke your hands across. his shampoo smells both mint and daisy, I hate to admit how I love the smell of his. the mixture of mint, daisy and herbs with faint traces of infirmary alcohol and medical supplies. he’s Will Solace after all. I often wonder how come he always look majestically ethereal in everyway whatsoever. he’s so full of life, just like persephone’s garden, he is full of life, no matter how death is around him.

if you’re wondering, I just got back from tartarus. that place which I worry so much how it affects my boyfriend. I’m just happy he’s recovering with me, but I often feel like I’m dragging him so much into my mess. but he always assure me that he volunteers himself into these ‘mess’ so I guess, he’s my everything. my warmth and home.

this morning, he woke me up and asked me to go on a picnic date. he had this beaming laugh and was glowing from the morning sunlight.

why does he have to be so beautiful all the time?

ugh I hate him. (“no you don’t!”) anyway, he then took out two notebooks, one in golden yellow—which is his—and black—which is mine, and it is you. he explained his whole plan to have these journal as a therapy as he keep fidgeting on his gold chain nervously. I found him both adorable and concerning. despite the morning and how I look like shit, he’s attractive in the most incredible way. I wonder if he’s using his glow power at that point, because he looks absolutely stunning.

“Nico, would you fill the journal for me? and then we can read it in our next anniversary—oh! and happy one year anniversary! I apologize that I’m late to say this to you because of this tartarus things going on. and I know we’ve talked a lot. like, a lot. but I can’t help that I love talking!” but I just want to say how happy I am to be with you and how I adore you. I love being your ‘significant annoyance’ and if I may, I’d love to grow old with you. you can always talk to me, you know? I’m your boyfriend—one year at that! how exciting!!

you deserve to be loved and I’m proud of you for staying this far. your life has been pretty hard and no, you don’t deserve all those bad things which happened to you. I’m here, and always going to be. I’m here and Will—great pun? I’m sorry—trust you and accept your darkness. tell me more about you—if you are comfortable with that. tell me how I can love you right. tell me because I don’t want you to feel like I’m ‘fixing’ you. all I want is to take care of you, sweetheart. my grumpy ball of darkness. I don’t want to—“ and then I shut him up with a kiss.

he tasted like the golden oreos he just ate. he’s warm, as always. he’s beautiful, and he’s mine.

“being sappy in this morning, Solace? happy anniversary too, you dork. I’m sorry that I can’t speak the way you just throw up the words, but trust me, I love you too.”

he’s all red and I laugh. how easy I laugh when it comes to him? and he laugh to. oh sweet hades, he laugh. and the sound made my stomach feel like a thousand skeletal butterflies. I really have to thank Naomi Solace for giving birth to such fine young man in front of me.

is this what love and happiness feel like? it feels foreign, yet strangely, I crave for more. Hades had told me to be happy, and I’ve let go of Bianca and Mother’s death. life has been pretty hard, and knowing you’re a demigod will never be easy, but with Will. I feel like everything’s possible.

I feel extra sappy, but what do I do to deserve such solace in front of me?”

“and all of this is just the first page? sweet apollo, you’re amazing!” Will’s eyes brightens as he gaze upon his partner. flustered and tinted red on his skin from ear to ear. “until you see where I’m being dramatic on our fight that one time”

“ugh that one serious fight, we had a terrible miscommunication back there. I love you, you know that?” Nico smiled, faintly. “I wonder how dramatic you are in your journal, Solace.” “definitely not every page, but that one fight journal was in tears.”

“oh you dork. now come on, let’s eat from the basket. how was cecil’s injury?” Nico caresses Will cheek.

“let me tell you how the little girl from aphrodite cabin fell in the sword training.”

[apoptoses]

It’s rare that he gets to see Daniel’s first meal of the day. He’s picked through his memories, he knows that on the Night Island he tends to wake in the afternoon, stumble down to the kitchen to graze. Daniel takes advantage of the ability to call their private chefs in to make him bacon, eggs. Food that sits heavy on his stomach so that he has to wander back to bed to sleep off the rest of the day. After that it doesn’t much matter, Daniel thinks. He’ll get Armand’s blood and that’s enough to hold him over. A cycle of snacking and blood sharing that repeats and repeats and repeats.

“LIsten, we need to make a pact,” Daniel mumbles between bites. “No more west-bound long haul flights. At least not without a couple days between each layover.”

Armand frowns. “Was it so burdensome to fly without me beside you?” 

It had been odd, departing in the evening in the cargo hold, trapped within the box that contained his coffin. Moving backwards through time. To leave in the dark but arrive in the middle of the morning- it creates a certain kind of inertia, he finds. 

Perhaps it’s what they mean when they say ‘jet lagged’. All of that effort to only be in a place for a week and then they’ll be moving on. Tickets to Thailand, to Nepal, to Greece. They wait in Daniel’s bag. More travel, pre-planned, predestined. A time limit on every stop. Armand wonders how exhausted they’ll both be by the end. 

Daniel spears a vegetable on his fork. He shrugs. “I don’t like it. Being without you.”

Without the blood.

This too, Armand recognizes from his youth. The ravenous fits that come between the tastes of blood. He remembers clearly being sixteen and not eating for days after the drinks his master had given him, and then falling upon the table and out eating all of the other boys.

There’s hollows beneath Daniel’s eyes. A sharpness to his cheekbones that hadn’t been there when they’d met, and perhaps that’s a sign of the march of time- he is, after all, creeping up on thirty now; no longer the wide eyed boy Armand had met but a man in his own right. But then-

His spoon clacks against the glass parfait cup. Daniel digs in straight to the bottom where the ice cream is, bypassing the fruit and whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Somewhere near his lap comes the sound of his insides churning. The wet sound of his stomach straining to accommodate that which he hasn’t consumed in- days? Weeks, perhaps. Armand can’t keep track.

He should be doing better than this. He ought to be taking better care of him but Daniel makes it so hard. The world makes it hard, with how anything and everything can catch his fascination. Like right now.

Something bubbles beneath the surface of him. A desire he can’t quite put a name to, a thread he’ll have to pull at until Daniel unwinds and he understands what it is that he seeks. Some unfinished business from the Copley, perhaps. The meal wherein he’d fed Daniel a bit of everything, only to depart before he could see the effect it had upon him.

There’s so much more he understands about Daniel now. And still so much to find out. He’ll never know him intimately enough.

Armand rests his chin on his hand. He takes in the way Daniel’s tongue sticks out the slightest bit when the spoon nears his mouth, the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallows. Daniel licks an errant blob of whipped cream from his upper lip and it leaves his mouth glossy with his saliva.

[AO3]

[kalpalatas]

I know I asked about the one but I just reread the list and saw the words "baby acquisition" so now I need to ask again-

BABY ACQUISITION? SPILL

(wip ask meme!)

let me introduce my favourite OC in this fandom so far....Hirano Akika, who has one dad's eyes and her other dad's extremely persuasive pout. her eyes are her most distinctive feature because her face is 80% cheek fat.

(she's not related to kagi biologically i just believe the pout is a learned skill)

( @justahungrydango named her. the kanji are apparently very cutely related to hirano's own. i can't read japanese i just thought kika-chan is too cute a name to let go of)

her backstory is that she's technically hirano's second cousin...? her bio mom kind of took off and her bio dad died in a car accident and hirano's mom left her in his care while she tracked down her niece to make her take responsibility for her kid. long story short hirano adopts her as his own instead, and later kagi when they get married. they take the hirano last name so kika-chan doesn't have to go through her THIRD government name in her eighteen months of existence.

it's really a very silly au i daydream about when i'm bored. i have her whole life mapped out until she's like 30. i've been making friends tell me about their baby niblings so i can track her growth through the story better. a part of hirano's angst™ is about how he's her dad for all intents and purposes but also not because he's just taking care of her in the meantime right? anyway the result is she calls kagi "papa" readily and it takes months to make her stop calling hirano "tai" during interviews with the government worker sjfhfffh

(i did. an absurd amount of research into japanese adoption procedures for this fic. then went "wait. this isn't real" and abandoned all of that lol)

anyway. snippet below is kagi's first meeting with the little blob.

Kagiura stood stock still in the middle of Hirano's living room, shoulders drawn up, having some sort of staring contest with the baby. She had already lost the challenge a few minutes before, but Kagiura wasn't backing down.

Hirano saw the tell-tale shakiness of his irises, and smacked his shoulder gently with the back of his hand.

"Oi," he called. "Kagi-kun."

Kagiura swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, but didn't acknowledge him otherwise.

Hirano sighed. "Akira," he called, "c'mon, man."

"Is she yours?" Kagiura whispered finally.

"What? No!" A treacherous bubble of laughter lodged in Hirano's throat. Seriously, Kagi-kun. "Where would I even-- ? She's my cousin's."

"Oh," Kagiura said faintly. "She has your eyes."

"Well, yeah." Hirano walked to the sofa and picked the baby up. "We're related. She's got my grandmother's eyes."

"Guh!" the baby agreed.

Kagiura deflated, the tension leaving his body in one big exhale. He lurched forward to drop his head on Hirano's shoulder, breathing him in.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, nosing closer to his boyfriend's neck. "I don't know what came over me."

Hirano pressed a kiss to his hair, the giggle finally bursting out of his mouth. "It's alright, you big baby." He shrugged his shoulder, jostling Kagiura's head. "Now get up and let me introduce you properly."

[highhhfiveee]

melodic stoner thotz

i’ve ALSO been having this silly thought about stoner!mike (who we haven’t seen in so long, i’m so sorrrrry). pls enjoy these unedited, unproofread thoughts that i typed instead of doing my work.

i listened to brie larson’s version of black sheep the other day (plus roomie and i watched the new scott pilgrim show, 8/10) and i started thinking about popstar!reader. hear me out;

you’re in a girl group, one that i currently have no name for, and you’re starting to gain traction in the states after releasing your debut album; you make high energy pop bops that emphasize on being true to yourself and standing up for what’s right with three other girls you’d met in the hallway at auditions. you’re grateful for the opportunity of course, but it’s not exactly what you’d wanted for your music career.

you have little creative control, and you’re told to sing and dance and dress a certain way; it’s a dream and a nightmare in one, and sometimes it has you wanting to leave the group all together, starting from scratch with music you actually loved.

you’re thinking about marching to the execs with your grievances when your manager sends a message to the group chat: WE’RE OPENING FOR [unnamed band that’s as big as say…the 1975 lmao] ON THEIR FALL TOUR!!!

you loved [unnamed band] and to support them on the North American leg of their tour is something you know you’d be idiotic to walk away from.

the city mike and abby live close to is stop 4 out of 10, and you’d been doing good with keeping up your charade of happiness. you sing and dance your ass off every night, knowing that you’re here and you can’t waste a moment of it; millions of aspiring musicians had wanted this but you’d finally made it to the stage.

you rarely ever fumbled during performances, a perfectionist at heart, but during the verse of one of your mid tempo songs, your eyes somehow gaze past the blinding stage lights and focus on abby (who you don’t know as abby of course lol), shouting every single word back to you with silly shimmies and head bobs.

you laugh, consumed with butterflies at the fact that she was enjoying your set so much. you’re enthralled by her energy, and it causes you to miss your cue for the prechorus. you giggle it off though you’re flustered, singing, “we have a lot of songs, my badddddd” to the melody of the music.

it makes the crowd explode with laughter, and you use that to propel you through the rest of your set, still looking towards abby as you present the outro during your final song. “thank you all so much, we love you! [bandmate 1] and i will be by the merch table once we’re off stage, and we hope to see you some of your faces there! are you all ready to see [unnamed band]????”

the crowd roars, and you watch as abby and the guy next to her disappear through the throng of people.

abby rushes straight for you once you’re sat at the merch stand, her cheeks flushed as she holds out her t-shirt for you. it’s one from your group’s first small tour, one where you’d gone to small cities throughout the country for as much exposure as possible. it was a size to big for her, draping down to her thighs. “y/n, i love you!!! can you please sign my shirt?”

“of course, cutie. i saw you dancing to [song name], is that one of your favorites?” abby nods excitedly as you scribble her name on your shirt, accenting it with a heart. you glance up at mike, who just stands behind her observing your interaction. he’s high as shit of course; he’d been a blob next to abby, really, bleary eyes and stationary, but seeing him this close revealed to you the stoner boy of your dreams.

��i take it you’re a big fan too?” you point the end of your marker at this chest. he’s wearing the same old tour shirt as abby, but his fits him well. he can’t believe your focus has moved to him now, and even though he should feel cool and calm off the edible he took before your set, your enticing gaze has him grasping for straws inside his mind.

“uh well, i…i really do it all for her, but you guys do have some solid songs. got some on your album that make me feel all powerful and sexy when i listen to them.” you both chuckle, and you motion for him to give you your hand.

you scribble your number onto his hand in red ink, musing, “well, i always love to hear what people think about our stuff. maybe…when i’m done with tour, you could tell me more over a joint or something?”

mike’s mouth goes dry, drier than it already was, but he’s nodding all languidly, leaving you with a small smirk when you give him his hand back. “yeah, yeah. sounds like a plan.”

this is kind of messy but do you all see the vision????? a full fic would be wayyyyy more structured and detailed, but i just NEEDED to get this idea out and i wanna know what you all think 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 (it would be like safety net with more smut and a tinge more angst, but definitely fluffy as hell too. like you confide in mike about the reality of your situation and he encourages you to fight for what you believe in, like one of your group’s songs ;-; still there’s lots of drama between you and the other members and the LABEL and so many entertainment people——me thinks it would go kind of nuts)

[debbeh]

can u give me a guide to the six idiots :33 like maybe with a picture of them n their names n who they play in the Big Three shows :33 pwetty peesse :33

UM YES!?

ok, you saw me earlier trying to format all the images so it's gonna be mostly my (ehhhh) descriptions of the characters and you gotta guess what they look like 😈

Ben Willbond

Yonderland:

Elder Vex (above): the one who says Deb-beh and has the coziest looking outfit I NEED IT RN PLZ and the Tom Cardy- esque hair and earring

Nick: the stick. Grumpy all the time cuz he's a stick >:(. Is also a portal between dimensions but whatevs

Horrible Histories

Mike Peabody :historical news reporter that wishes he were anywhere but here rn

King Henry, Alexander the Great: SkINy MaNdRiA, excellent hair, sniffed a guy

Ghosts

The captain: AKA James, makes a lotta noises, if you ever hear me going weeeahhhhhuuuueeeaaaaaahhhh, I'm referencing him, the gay one<3

Martha Howe-Douglas!

Yonderland!!

Debbie.

Debbie's evil twin sister (bossy boobs)

I just googled it: Rita, the Negatus simp AKA us, the demon that looks like how female animals are protrayed in Barbie movies

Horrible Histories!!!

Boudica (look up the song, it's rlly good), Cleopatra, every female historical figure

Pirate lady....<33333

Ghosts!

Lady Button (present day): Old disgruntled lady that pouts all the time and falls out of windows

Lady Button (flashback)

Mathew Baynton!!!

Yonderland!!!

Oracle: weird blue blob guy, Nigel, Darling

Nanny la roo: NUM NUMS!!!! - nanny that is also a kangaroo

Admiral Anous: Voldemort mf I hate him bc he hates Negatus>:(

Elder Choop: Croissant hair mf, says, "IDK WHY DON'T WE ASK UR MUM??"

Le Fox: French

THE BIRRDDDDD: AKA Thomas Payne, Batman but cooler

Oh yeah, and Elf: the elf shaped one, full name: Grintallin Gobscrew Crotell Fashanu F’naw Goplatz Holla-Holla, has multiple wives apparently and is in debt to the mob

Horible Histories (look all of them up, they are all hot)

Dick Turpin: play the song >:333, shot not one but two men dead!

D.I. Bones: the whakkus bonkkused

King Charles II: absolute party-er

Ghosts

Thomas Thorne, shot, dead! Absolute poetic simp for Allison, drowned himself in the lake ;( -cannot drown-

Jim Howik!!!

Yonderland

Elder Pressley: looks like Elvis, eats christmas tree ornaments

Crone: A sLaPper *wink wink*, has apparently gotten with everyone, goes eeeerrrrrrrrrrr all the time- sounds like a doorhinge, she is amazing

Neil: lhe most normal of the demons probably

Horrible Histories

A SHOUTY MAN!!! :does all the infomercials, will try to sell you piss

King George VI (above) : "oh yesss, dad's dead, I'm king..."

King Richard III: a sweet little guy<3 -according to the song, get's attacked by whasp

Ghosts

Pat Butcher: Greatest DJ in the AAARRREEEEEUHHHHH, killed by a child, AKA Pete in the American version

Larry Rickard

Yonderland

Detective Mounteback: very dumb detective with very large hat

Elder Ho Tan: trans Icon, doesn't like loud noises, absolute baby<3

Sue: above, the lady with the gun from the episode I showed you

Horrible Histories

Bob Hale: weather report, needs a hellicopter and a nice cup of tea, basically Bill Wurtz

Lol knight with shit on head, Aztec guy, George III friend who slays so hard; "ConGRatu-VerY-LaTiOns your... *MAgEsTy*"

Ghosts

Humphrey: keeps getting left on roofs and shelves, does NOT know French smh

Robin: 5,000 yo ghosts, once saw a cool butterfly, KNOWS FRENCH! Got stuck by lightning and now he can turn on lights

and finally... the moment you've been waiting for...

Simon Farnaby!!!

Yonderland!!!

Negatus<333: Silly guy try to take over Yonderland but is just a lil guy, has an evil lair, uses The Font of Orris (cauldron thing that lets you see everything) as a hot tub, get's bullied by all the other overlords, wears pjs with houses on them.

Elder Flowers!!!: Long hair and lack of shirt, vegetarian hippie of the group, wants his clothes to be veGONE, "all you need is love, brothers... oh, and food"

Horrible Histories

Emperor Caligula: the wakkus bonkkus guy

Marcus Licinius Crassus: Knockoff Bassline Junkie song

Ghosts:

Jullian!!!: Died conducting an affair with his secretary!!!, is eternally sorta drunk, does the hand thing, only ghost that can interact with stuff, makes silly EEERREREEEEE noise when he's trying to move something, his name is Trevor in the American version, sad when there's no porn on da TV ;(, has no pants BTW

Thanks for coming to my TEDTALK!!!

Lemme know if I missed anything!

[tanema123]

Roberto, aka Bob. ,Adam f-ed up au, 3 more children and it's complete for writing.

Why is he called that? He was a little Blob as a child.

Antennas dissapiered after metamorphosis. He is just a wild card. Extremely close with Robert Richards, aka radioapple kid, much to his parents dismay. Friendship started over a similar name. It's not the kids fault their parents don't communicate at all. 🫠 (I forgot I named the kid Robert)

[triangularitydubs]

Act I The Gauntlet II

The second wave of dread washing over Kinger.

He squeezed Queenie tight, a silent promise to return echoing in the depths of his digital heart, and then, with a determined glint in his eyes, snatched up his crook and marched forward.

Before him pulsed a grotesque entity, a shifting, oozing mass of grey.

They called it The Fudge, a fitting name for something so formless and disturbingly playful.

He was a blob of sentient, goofy liquidity, and Kinger quickly realized the issue: how do you hurt something that has no structure?

He dodged, weaving and bobbing with surprising agility, narrowly avoiding being engulfed by the grasping pseudopods of The Fudge.

Each close call sent a jolt of digital fear through him.

Xaine, perched high above, watched with a cruel amusement that prickled Kinger's nonexistent skin.

Suddenly, it clicked. The Fudge's eyes – two solid, milky orbs bobbing within the grey expanse.

A weakness! Hope flared in Kinger’s chest. He launched himself forward, brandishing his crook, aiming to dislodge the eyes.

But The Fudge was frustratingly evasive, the ever-moving goo making a precise strike impossible.

Then, disaster. The Fudge, quicker than Kinger anticipated, snatched the crook from his grasp.

The king chess piece, now disarmed and desperate, stumbled backward, fear clawing at the edges of his sanity.

He was just running aimlessly around the area unamred.

"GET CAUGHT, YOU FOOL! GRAB THE EYES BEFORE HE CONSUMES YOU!"

The voice, a raspy whisper from the depths of the simulation, startled him. It was Bone Pastor, the ghostly, glitching pretense of a former skeletal warrior, a figment of the digital world who had, surprisingly, offered sound advice.

Trusting the spectral warrior, Kinger forced himself to stop running.

He braced himself, closed his eyes, and waited.

The Fudge enveloped him, a cold, suffocating embrace.

At the very last second, before the goo could fully consume him, Kinger reached out, his fingers clamping onto the slippery orbs. With a desperate heave, he ripped them free.

The Fudge shrieked, the sound a distorted gurgle. The grey mass began to dissolve, melting away until only Kinger stood, panting, his crook lying beside him.

He picked it up, surprisingly unscathed.

Relief was short-lived. Before he could fully catch his breath, the next opponent materialized: Cultoro, the cult leader he had barely escaped before.

This was a different beast.

Cultoro was cunning, ruthless, and armed with an unnerving charisma that chipped away at Kinger’s already fragile mental state.

The fight was brutal, a desperate dance of dodging and striking.

Kinger, fueled by a primal instinct for survival, fought harder than he ever thought possible.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw an opening, a hairline fracture forming around Cultoro's eye.

He pressed his advantage, battering and clawing until the crack widened.

Then, with a final, desperate blow, he broke through.

He didn't stop there. A dark, furious energy seized him.

He continued to bash Cultoro's head long after the cult leader had fallen, a primal rage refusing to be quenched.

Xaine, observing from his hidden vantage point, sighed and used his mind control, subtle and insidious, to gently pull Kinger away from the carnage.

He granted him another short respite, a mockery of kindness.

Ragatha, her digital compassion unwavering, rushed to tend to Kinger’s wounds, the scrapes and bruises that somehow manifested despite his being constructed of code.

Even Jaxx, cynical as ever, offered a grudging nod of respect.

"Not bad," the purple rabbit conceded, "for a piece of driftwood."

But Xaine knew better.

He saw the inherent flaws in Kinger, the absentmindedness, the simmering rage, the vulnerability that clung to him like a digital shroud.

He was confident that the next opponent, the Abstragon, would be Kinger's undoing.

The Abstragon fed on fear and confusion, exactly what Kinger was made of.

Kinger was a failed attempt at a warrior. Xaine was certain of it. He just had to wait.

[vanillasn0w]

A Rock N Roll Halloween

It certainly is the season for goblins and gouls and everything creepy. Its the time for monsters to show up on the television; its the time for all the woman to scream in terror. It's the time to put on your fake fangs and act like a vampire. This is the time to buy candy and bob for candy apples.

The blob and the witches can come out. The people dressed as serial killers and Harry Potter students can come out. For my boyfriend, Elvis, Halloween is a night of fun and frights. It's a night to eat candy and hand it out. It's a really good time with him, I've been told. 

Halloween is also the time to share spooky tales and give yourself nightmares. 

Speaking of nightmares, there is fake blood on the counters and the cobwebs in the corners. A cardboard ghost is sitting next to the coffeetable. Halloween is the time for Elvis to go as crazy as he likes with decorations. This should be a fun night with no drama and just love from Elvis. And the best part is? He will be dressed as a vampire.

                     ___________

Elvis comes downstairs to greet me looking as sexy as ever. He has his fangs in, makeup to make him look pale and his hair gelled back. He has a black cape on, white undershirt, and brown khaki pants. I sure am going to have trouble keeping my hands off of him tonight.

I, am dressed as a witch, hat and all, my face a slightly green hue. I have my black shirt on and a cape and black leggings to go with it. 

“Hey, there, little momma.” He says, kissing me. The whole world falls away for a moment as I press into the kiss. I pay attention to nothing but his lips. Oh, god, I love him so much. We pull away and we smile at each other. 

“You look amazing.” He says.

“Thanks. As for you, you've completely outdone yourself.” 

I whisper in his ear, “it's going to be hard to keep myself hands off of you tonight.”

“Who said you had to?” They are not here yet.” He says, with a smirk.

                         __________

After that blissful and amazing hour of touching each other and having sex, we come out to the party where we see the MM. There is Sonny and Red, dressed as Santa and an elf, their wives, dressed as cheerleaders. 

We walk hand in hand to greet them. The rest of the guys I don't know and names I have yet to figure out.  Two of them are dressed as thing one and thing two.

“Y/N. You know Sonny and Red, their wives, you have yet to meet the rest of them. Thing one here, is Joe Esposito. And thing two is Charlie Hodge.” 

“Good to meet you.” They both say in unison, giving me their hands to shake. One by one, I do.

They both seem very nice. The, the dancing begins as the Monster Mash is played on the speakers.

Elvis takes my hand and twirls me around, shimmying his hips as I shimmy my hips as well. I am filled with love and longing as he holds me close for a moment and then gives me a slight push forward, tapping his toes to the beat. I tap my toes, too and kiss him on the cheek. Gosh, if there was ever a man who made me feel extremely alive, it is him. I am simply floating when I am with him, I have never felt more alive in my life than I do when I am with him. He is my medicine, he is the pill I take everyday to stay alive. He makes me who I am. He takes my hand in his and we swing our arms, moving my hips. I am dying to feel closer to him tonight, so I rest my head on his shoulder for a minute. I pull myself away and we are still swinging our arms together. We stop and I twirl around in a circle and he takes my arm, and pulls me closer to him with his hand on my wrist. I love to feel his touch on my hand. For his touch is like warm sugar on my skin, bringing heat to my heart. He brings such joy to my life and dancing like this? It’s addictive.

He sings along with the music, bobbing his head. I bob my head, too, then give several shimmies of my hips.

“Girl, when you dance like that, I feel so aroused.” He whispers in my ear.

“Oh, yeah?” I say, with a smirk.

He nods. 

“Later.” I say.

“Definitely.” He says.

The music still plays, this time a different song, Purple People Eater comes on. Elvis takes my hand in his and lifts me up off the ground, cradling me like a baby, then puts me back down, kissing my cheek. I feel alive with the warmth of his touch and I only want more and more. I grin, laughing. He grins as well, happy as a clam. He whispers into my ear.  We watch Sonny and Red do the jive with their wives. They accent with their knees, one, then two, three then four,  and five, six, seven and eight. They move their hips and legs very well, the ladies doing a lot of action with their legs. They are all closed in position, rotating slightly. It’s all very well done. They now have their palm to palm action of their hands and continue to move their legs to the rhythm. When they are done we all clap our hands, Elvis, whispering, “I need to teach you how to dance like that.”

“I’d like that.” I say.

Elvis gets out in the middle of the floor and begins to sing, “My girlfriend is a Witch, by October Country; a perfect song for Halloween.

“Riding high, leaving trails of smoke across the sky, on a broom.” 

I move my head to the beat listening to his beautiful voice. I am absolutely mesmerized right now. He just sounds so pretty. And when he sings, he is one hundred percent the center of attention. Even if there were missiles in the air, it seems like everybody in the room would be paying attention to him.” He’s just that pretty and just that good of a singer and performer. 

He swings his body to the beat of the music, clapping his hands. 

“Spells fill the air, I think I hear footsteps on my stair, coming near

Her thoughts are telling me she’s near

I know my girlfriend is a witch.

He sings, pointing to me. I laugh.

His singing goes on for a couple of minutes, him dancing slowly and singing very well.  Again, he points at me, when he says the last line of the chorus and I point back at him. 

When he comes back to me, I give him a round of applause and say, “Fantastic job, Elvis. You really do know how to perform.”

He smiles at me and kisses me on the cheek. “Thanks. You really do know how to be an amazing girlfriend.”

I blush, smiling.

We go to the food table, where Elvis pretends to play guitar. I laugh. He grins as well, continuing to “play.” Then, we look at the food. There are so many good desserts that he and his father made. There is the worm pudding, with gummy worms, chocolate pudding for the “soil” and the chocolate chip cookie bits for the “dirt.” Then, there is the vampire dessert, with fangs sticking out of the vanilla cake and fake blood all over it. Elvis and I made a lava cake, except with only chocolate there is a ton of fake blood as the lava as well as the chocolate. The chocolate and fake blood lava lead down to a succulent vanilla cake. Gummy eyeballs lay on top of the lava. We had so much fun making it. 

“I had so much fun making this with you. You just couldn’t get enough of me being with you in the kitchen.”

I smirk. “There isn’t anybody in the world who would stay away from Chef Elvis.” 

“Chef Elvis? Oh, is that what you are calling me now?”

“No, that’s just what I’ll be calling you when we cook or bake together.” 

He smiles, wrapping his arm around my waist, saying, “I like it.”

“Good.” I say, with a smile.

Now, the most important question of the night? What should we get to eat?” Elvis asks.

“I think I’ll go with the pudding and a little bit of the lava cake.” 

“Good choice. I think I’ll have the vampire cake.”

We pick up our plates and put our helpings on them, walking over to Sonny and Red. They are telling stories of past Halloween with him, when we weren’t dating yet. His arm is still firmly wrapped around my waist, making me feel all nice and warm inside. 

“This kid, bobbed twenty apples, stunning us all! Nobody could get that many apples, nobody except the King.” Sonny says.

Elvis laughs, while I grin. Seems like something he would do.

“Hey, what can I say, they were my favorite color.”

They all laugh. 

“I remember one time, when he was stationed out in Germany, he scared off a cat with his costume. He walks into the room with a homemade serial killer mask and the cat goes running for the hills. It was hilarious!”

Elvis and his Memphis Mafia laugh. I laugh, too, joining in.

“This year, he carved his pumpkins to be a little too happy. They look like they’ve gone mad.” I say, with a grin.

Elvis and the gang chuckle. “Hey, you can never go wrong with carving pumpkins.” 

“I mean, really, Elvis, were you trying to make them look murderous?”

He laughs, as well as everybody else.

 “You never know.” He says, with a wink in my direction.

Towards the end of the party, Elvis comes to me and takes a velvet box out of his pocket. He smiles lovingly at me.

“Elvis, what is this?” I say, not expecting a gift. 

“Open it up.”

So, I do. I am beyond happy when I see what he has gotten me. Nobody else would have thought to give me this. It’s a gold coin with a picture of two hands being held on it. In the middle of the hands, it is inscribed, “I love you.”

“Oh, Elvis, this is just beautiful. Thank you so much.”

This is the first declaration of his love for me. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

“Only the best for my special woman.”

“I love you, too, Elvis. With all of my soul.” 

“I am glad. Because I love you more than that.” 

He takes my hand in his and kisses it. And with that, the night is over and we are holding each other.

[thesmpisonfire]

The book Walter bob gave him had the square name like the other cucurucho has, maybe it wasn’t Walter but instead the other cucurucho masquerading as him to get pac in the nether, it would explain the random blobs on Walter bob

It's either that or Cucurojo is part of the resistance and ordered Walter Bob to get someone else for it to try and sell his judas speech to

[bearmemesreviews]

Skylanders Review: Spyro Part 1

Ah, Skylanders, the Juggernaut of the Ingenius but short-lived toys-to-life genre. Before Battlepasses, Gachas, and DLC packages that added things that probably should have been in base game, we had the clever idea of making kids buy the characters they wanted to play as. Why grind or achieve some in-game feat to unlock your favorite character when you could spend extra money to get more than the three options you got when buying the game itself!

Is it sad to say that I think if this game came out now they wouldn't even bother with starter figures and you'd just get the game for Forty Dollars?

Anyways, some backstory before we get into our flagship Skylander, and the reason why most of you are here.

Skylanders began as a project for Spyro the Dragon, a task given to the company Toys for Bob. They toyed with a bunch of ideas that other games have done when they needed a reboot - even the dark and gritty remake route - but these ideas soon settled onto a pitch for "Spyro's Kingdom" which would lay the groundwork for Skylanders.

Quoting the wiki, ideas included Spyro and friends being living toys in a post-apocalyptic earth, this was scrapped but became the marketing heart of the franchise - toys you'd "bring to life" by placing them upon a station connected to your gaming set-up. Every Skylander would be a real-life figure, non-posable but fully painted and detailed, that you could collect to broaden your options for playable characters.

The story of Spyro's Kingdom had Spyro be an older guide to the player, now a king of his own kingdom. Obviously a reboot cannot have its title character play second fiddle to a bunch of newbies, so this would be altered. Spyro's Kingdom would've had new characters, who would receive quests from the adult dragon and these included five specific proto-Skylanders.

My god these figures, Hagen Renaker eat your heart out. Four out of five of these figures would be reworked into future Skylanders, except for the Cycloptic Blue Blob who suspiciously resembles the guy from Monsters vs Aliens. Guess they Old Yeller'd him, RIP.

In the middle sits a pissed off red-recolor of Spyro, with a very familiar headshape. This "Fire Dragon," who would serve as the player character before rightfully giving that spot up to his purple superior, never got around to getting a real name. In fact, all these figures had Placemarker names due to how early they were in the game's creation. From left to right we have "Rock Dragon", "Ghost Eater", "Fire Dragon", "Tarclops", and "Bomb Troll".

Only one to get a name and only one to not become an official Skylander, if only he had that second eye.

Fire Dragon is obviously the Spyro we would soon get, and soon Master Eon would take Spyro's old position so that the purple dragon can finally take his role as the de-facto leader of this group of toyetic weirdos.

[Image: Spyro the Dragon, Official Skylanders Series 1 Render. Spyro is a quadrupedal purple dragon with almost Mustard Yellow accents. He has three-toed claws, bat-like wings, two medium length curved horns, and fin-shaped spikes going down the back of his head and along the top of his tail. His bulky tail also ends win a yellow spike, almost structured like an armored sheath attached to the tip of his tail.]

Spyro here retains most of the characteristics from previous incarnations, but has a notably pug-like, squashed snout. Pug Spyro was a bit of a Black Sheep in the old days, especially since Skylanders took a massive departure from the dragon's previous games. In fact, outside of Cynder and Malefor, you wouldn't need to know anything about the previous games to get into this new canon.

Yeah, here's something I have to admit. I have no real history with Spyro games, and I was first exposed to him from his self-titled adventure in Skylands. I'm also one of 50 people who watched the Netflix series, which you should watch because the way THAT reinterprets the game's canon needs to be seen.

Said Netflix series basically make him Harry Potter, learning from Eon - a master of Portals and Tutorials - on how to be a Skylander with Stealth Elf and Eruptor because f*ck Gill Grunt and Trigger Happy I guess. Skylanders are protectors of Skylands (Literal Islands in the Sky), who have been banished to Hell Earth by Invader Zim the evil wizard Kaos, and apparently the heat created by Atmospheric reentry can convert you into a plastic toy that retains enough sentience to understand how horrific being an immobile plaything would be. Eon then enlists you, adults who thought this was a new Spyro game and random children, as Portal Masters. Portals are the platform onto which you place the figures on to unlock their character in-game, and it allows you to puppeteer the Skylanders as an extension of your own being.

If you think that sounds morally dubious now, wait until we get to Trap Team.

As a Design by Himself, Spyro is a good flagship character. To the kids he's just a good old dragon, with all that entails. And he draws eyes to this game in the same way a Licensed Guest character would, acting a bit like the Wolverine to Skylander's X-Men.

I like the pug-face, though it leaves much to be desired at certain angles. However, that's not all that Spyro has to offer, after all, I have yet to fully explain his whole deal, because in part two we get into his Element and new Lore!

Please look up "Skylanders Costumes", every time I visited Halloween City I would just see these guys and die.

[thatseventiesbitch]

If your looking for some new prompts: How about a Grandparents Day at Leia’s school that Red and Kitty attend with maybe a surprise appearance from Grandpa Bob at the end 😂

Thank you for the prompt! This was fun to imagine. If you have a writing request, you can send it to me here.

"Grandma! Grandpa! Over here!" A toothless but grinning Leia Forman waved at Red and Kitty as they entered her first grade classroom.

"Hey Kiddo," Grandpa Red winked at her, and Grandma Kitty excitedly kissed her forehead. "What have you got there?"

"It's a pitcher," Leia explained, pointing down at her drawing of three blue blobs. "A pitcher of us!"

"Is this you, me, and Grandpa Red the day we went to the apple orchard?" Kitty asked the little girl. When Leia nodded happily, Kitty nodded her head, knowingly. She pointed to the green scribbles on the edge of the 'pitcher'. "You drew such nice trees. It looks just like I remember."

"Is this your desk, Leia-girl?" Red asked.

She nodded.

"Look at your cursive writing," he gestured to her name-tag and lifted his eyebrows, impressed. "It's better than all of these other kids'. And these stickers - " he gestured to the array of them underneath her name. "Do they mean something special?"

"You get them for being Student of the Day," Leia said proudly, puffing out her little chest.

"You've been Student of the Day 5 times?" Grandpa Red said it like she'd been honored the Nobel Peace Prize.

"Yep!"

"Wow. That's really something, kid." He ruffled her hair affectionately. Leia giggled at all of the praise. Red turned to his wife. "I mean, Eric was never - "

"Red - " Kitty cut him off with a shake of her head, and the rest of his complaint died on his lips.

"Yeah, it's those Pinciotti genes."

A jovial voice caused all three of them to turn around. Grandpa Bob stood there, his arms crossed over his tacky sweater. It said 'World's Best Grandpa', and Red rolled his eyes as his in-law approached.

"Bob. You flew up from Florida for Grandparents Day?" Kitty asked.

"Of course," he grinned. "Couldn't miss it."

He'd reached Leia's desk, and now he pinched her cheek affectionately. "Hiya, Pumpkin." He gestured to her 'pitcher'. "You got one of those for Grandpa Bob?"

"Yeah!" Leia yelled excitedly. She reached inside her desk, and pulled out a yellow piece of paper with a different drawing on it. It depicted two purple blobs, and a bunch of dark-colored circles. "This is you and me, Grandpa Bob!"

"And what are... what are those, Sweetie?" Kitty asked tentatively, pointing at the brown pebbles.

Leia's face fell. "You can't tell?"

Kitty faltered. "Oh, no. No, I can. It's... um. It must be..." she trailed off and looked to Red for help, but he just shrugged at her. He seemed to think it was funny, and she shot him a glare for being unhelpful.

"Choco-Town!" Bob said, like he was having a sudden realization. "It's us visiting Choco-Town. Right Leia?"

Leia grinned and nodded, and the adults all sighed in relief.

[siri-ike]

"What was his next class again?" Danny squinted at the poorly scribbled syllabus in the back of his locker. He should really just color code these things, but then he'd have to keep more school supplies in there, and that's more objects for blobs to possess, they're harmless really but having to explain why your stuff is floating does not help to stay under the radar. "Ah, think of the devil." Danny thought as his Algebra book started enthusiastically bobbing up and down. He grabbed it out of the air just as another student appeared behind him, and he turned around in a completely non suspicious manner.

"H, hi, Danny. Uhm, see, I was wondering. There's, ah, a party, at, uuh, this house party at. So, Jennifer's parents are out of town, and -" Derek, he's such a bumbling fool. Just spit it out already.

"A party, huh. When is it? And where?" Danny sped things up.

"Oh, it's at, um, the southern suburbs, I don't remember the street name. It's, ah, tomorrow, 10pm. I mean 10. Obviously it wouldn't be am because that would be to early ~

Danny closed his locker and walked away, leaving Darek to talk to the blob, probably the only thing with enough patience for him.

Yeah, Algebra was not his next class. He sat in on a lecture that was completely unrelated. And not because he was distracted by the smokin' guy sitting in the row in front of him, Danny was totally paying attention.

Attention to the outline of his biceps and pecks that is, his face looked like carved marble and his hair, it swooped down all around his head but there was no gel involved. AND he's taking AP Algebra? No way could someone achieve this level of perfection through non supernatural means.

Danny definitely, absolutely, one thousand percent, did NOT follow that boy out of the classroom and towards the theater room. Theater? OK, ok, interesting. We got a multidimensional hunk on our hands. Let's hope it doesn't complicate Danny's plan. Quickly, Danny grabs a nearby blob and throws it straight at a backpack sitting on the floor by the theater entrance. The bag starts to float, and it stops him from entering just yet. Danny runs his hand through his hair to freshen it up a bit. He makes sure he's standing in the middle of the hallway before subtley ecto blasting a nearby locker shut, pulling everyone's attention to himself. He confidently walks through the corridor, eyeing the hot guy up and down as he passes.

He looked absolutely stunned. It worked♡

Danny wearing the “it’s not gay if he’s dead” shirt his school made back when he first starting out in Gotham and Jason has to do a double take cuz “WTF DOES THAT MEAN!?”

Bonus points if Jason and Danny don’t know each other and just pass each other on the street. And Cue Jason stalking Danny because this couldn’t be an accident!!!

[zeithforge]

The Great Festival of Feet Fiasco

The annual "Grand Festival of Feet" in the bustling city of Konoha-ville was always a vibrant affair, but this year, a slight administrative oversight promised to make it legendary. Our hero, Hiro, a spiky-haired aspiring ninja whose main skill was tripping over his own feet, had somehow signed up for the "Artistic Foot-Painting" competition. His rival, the perpetually dramatic sorceress Luna, with her flowing violet robes and penchant for excessive glitter, was mistakenly listed for the "Extreme Foot-Volley" tournament.

The mix-up became comically clear during the opening ceremony. Hiro, armed with a palette of vibrant, non-toxic paints and a set of delicate brushes, stood bewildered as a giant net was hoisted before him. "Excuse me, sensei," he stammered to the stern-faced referee, "I believe there's been a terrible mistake. My art supplies are for, well, art!"

Meanwhile, Luna, already conjuring miniature lightning bolts around her palms, looked utterly perplexed by the tiny canvases and easel set up for her. "By the Moon's shimmering toenails!" she shrieked, accidentally zapping a nearby potted fern. "Where is my ball? I explicitly practiced my meteor-kick volley for weeks!"

The referee, a man named Bob who clearly wished he'd taken early retirement, simply consulted his clipboard. "Hiro, Artistic Foot-Painting. Luna, Extreme Foot-Volley. Next!"

And so, the chaos began.

Hiro, bless his clumsy heart, tried to paint with his feet. His first attempt resulted in a splattering of bright pink across his face and a surprisingly accurate depiction of a startled squirrel on the canvas. His second attempt involved a frantic dance to avoid stepping in the paint, inadvertently creating an abstract masterpiece titled "The Existential Dread of a Tripping Ninja." The crowd, initially confused, quickly erupted in laughter, finding his unintentional artistry far more entertaining than the actual foot-painting contenders.

Luna, on the other hand, was now facing a giant inflatable volleyball, her violet robes billowing dramatically. "This is preposterous!" she declared, attempting a gentle tap with her foot. The ball merely bounced weakly. "Where is the drama? The tension? The villains?" She then tried to channel a "Moonfire Kick," but without a proper ball, her foot simply connected with thin air, causing her to spin dramatically and accidentally trip over her own robe. She landed in a heap of glitter, prompting gasps and a few giggles from the audience.

"This is not a proper arena for my mystical foot-power!" she whined, dramatically pointing a finger at a nearby, genuinely confused, pigeon. "You! Bear witness to this injustice!"

The climax arrived when Hiro, in a desperate attempt to clean his paint-covered foot, accidentally kicked a rogue blob of cerulean blue paint directly onto Luna's already glitter-covered face.

Luna froze. Her lightning eyes narrowed. "You… you have defiled me with… blue!" she shrieked, her voice echoing across the festival grounds.

Hiro flinched. "It was an accident, Luna! I swear! My foot has a mind of its own!"

Just then, a rogue volley from another game soared high, missing its target, and landed squarely on the now-painted canvas of Hiro's "Existential Dread of a Tripping Ninja," smearing the squirrel's eye.

Luna, seeing the injustice, let out a dramatic gasp. "My rival's art has been attacked! This insult shall not stand!" Forgetting her own predicament, she suddenly unleashed a genuine "Meteor Kick," propelling the volleyball with such force it shattered the giant net and sent it spiraling into the sky, leaving a trail of shimmering violet energy.

Bob, the referee, merely sighed, adjusted his glasses, and updated his clipboard: "Hiro: Accidental Art, 1st Place (Audience Favorite). Luna: Net Destruction, 1st Place (Most Enthusiastic Participant)."

Later that evening, as the twin moons rose over Konoha-ville, Hiro was seen meticulously applying pink paint to one of Luna's pristine white combat boots, while she, surprisingly, offered foot-volleyball tips to Chairman Meow, who looked even more disdainful than usual. The Grand Festival of Feet had indeed been legendary, not for its planned events, but for the sheer, delightful chaos of its foot-based mix-ups.