#i mean...blue slime cool???

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Look for the Soul and the Meaning

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early Alexandria

Warnings: Depictions of illness

Summary: You’re sick. Daryl makes sure you’re not alone.

A/N: I have been uber sick this week and just needed some self indulgent comfort. Idec if he’s ooc this time.

*gif is not mine

Groaning, you rolled your head from side to side, even the soft cradle of the pillow intensifying the ache in your skull. Your throat was a tunnel of razor blades, your lungs trying their best to eject themselves over your tongue. Your body ached and protested, skin sensitive from fever. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think.

“I feel gross.” You whimpered. You raised a hand toward your face but found it to be too much work, letting it drop to the mattress beside you.

“Know ya do.” His raspy whisper acted as a balm to your pain.

A blessedly cool cloth touched your forehead, remaining there for a moment before it was pressed against each cheek and then your neck. Your sigh came unbidden, shameless and sudden.

“That’s nice.” You croaked before being seized by a coughing fit. It was dry and unproductive, the mucus coating the inside of your lungs like slime, unmoving. It hurt. “Daryl.” You whimpered.

The flu hit Alexandria during your first autumn within the walls. Though some fell victim, just as they had at the prison, the community had medicines readily available. IV fluids, oxygen tanks, and fever reducers. This virus was different, thank god; a less intense influenza. That, however, was not a comfort when it came to feeling the symptoms.

“M’right here, Sunshine.”

The coolness left your skin to burn, but once his fingers began carding through your hair, his lips touching your forehead, you could no longer feel the heat. And for one moment, coherency filtered through.

“Daryl—Daryl, your bandana.” You wheezed, reaching for the fabric he had pulled down to hang around his neck. Looking at him, even your eyes felt like they would singe out of your skull. “You’re gonna get sick too.”

“M’gonna be fine.” He caught your hand easily—your movements too sluggish—and kissed the inside of your wrist. “Means ya gotta get better so ya can take care’a me.”

You chuckled weakly, triggering another cough. It jostled your sore body, earning a whine and a few tears. Your eyes had screwed shut to ride out the ordeal, but opened when something touched your lips. The bottle felt odd, warm and scratchy.

“Gotta drink for me.” Blue eyes flickered up to the bag of fluids hanging from the bedpost but didn’t linger. “Help them fluids do their job.” You reluctantly obliged, fearing the feel of the water against your already irritated throat.

Turned out, it was heavenly.

You drank greedily, not even thirsty but lost in the relief the cool liquid was providing. When it was suddenly taken away, you chased it with desperation.

“Gimme.” You pouted.

“In a bit. Ya gonna make yourself sick.” The cool cloth was back and the water was forgotten. With weak uncoordinated movements, you pulled the blankets up further, your entire form trembling with chills.

“Tell me a story, Daryl.”

The cloth ceased its travels. “A story?”

“Mhm. Don’t care what it is.” Sleep was standing in the corner, pulling at you incessantly, your eyelids growing heavier and heavier despite the heat and pain. “Tell me about your chupacabra.”

It was Daryl’s turn to laugh, a sharp exhale through his nose. “Nah, that ain’t no sickbed story.”

“Tell me—something.” You yawned, wincing when you could feel the pull on your inflamed throat. It was quiet in the room, your eyes closed and chest wheezing. But then:

“Once upon a time—”

You mimicked his earlier laugh, your eyes remaining closed. “So cliché.”

The man at your bedside scoffed. “Ya want a story or not?”

“Mhm. Sorry.” You whispered, already fading, the cloth pulling away to be replaced by his fingertips in your hair, ghosting over your face.

Daryl cleared his throat, the deep breath he sucked in was unsteady. “Once upon a time, there was a woman. She was a smartass. Pigheaded as all get out.” The corner of his mouth lifted when you began to snore, your stuffy nose making it impossible to breathe properly. “She met a redneck drifter, a real asshole.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips to your overly warm forehead, letting them linger there. Pulling back, he stayed close, just watching you sleep, stroking the hair on the crown of your head. “An’ somehow, she changed him.”

Sitting back, he grabbed the cloth and dipped it in the bowl of water, back to battling the flames beneath your skin.

“S’far from the end, Sunshine.”

[mawofthemagnetar]

Father's Day

“So, hold on a minute,” Iskall held his hands up, “back up, because I must have missed that. You’re a FATHER?”

“Well, yeah?” Jevin shrugged, scrolling through his comm, “What’s so hard about that to believe?”

Iskall, by way of a reply, simply gestured at Jevin’s person from his head to his slimy feet.

“So? Okay, yeah, I guess it- is a little hard to fathom. I do, uh, have a certain- aura of coolness around me. But yeah, no, I’m a dad. And a damn good one, too. I mean, a slime-dad, which is a little different than a regular dad. But for a slime-dad, I’m top-shelf. Of course.”

“Uh-huh. And how does a slime-dad differ from a regular dad?” Iskall folded his arms.

“I don’t gotta, uh, chase after my kids as much as you guys do. They’re pretty much ready to go once they hit full-size. I do my bit by checking up on them periodically. Anyway, point is, I gotta go. My kids are throwing a father’s day bash, and I can’t be late.”

Iskall rubbed his temples.

“Okay, couple questions. One, father’s day was three months ago. Two, is there a Missus Jevin you’ve got stashed away somewhere? Or a Mister Jevin? Or-“

“…Why would another person be involved?” Jevin asked, tilting his head with a squish of slime, “Like, literally, why? Who needs help to become a parent?”

“…Uh…you know what? No. You want to learn about the parrots and the bats, go talk to Keralis.”

“Sure, whatever. Anyway, to answer your second question, it’s ‘cause if you try to do father’s day on the actual, like, day, renting a big enough hall is stupid expensive and it’s all just kind of dumb. And a hassle. So we host it whenever.”

Jevin glanced up from his comm.

“Wanna come? Meet my kids, I mean.”

Iskall rubbed his forehead.

“Sure, why not. Hit me with it.”

They tapped their comms together, and Jevin clacked his jaw together- the slime equivalent of a smile.

“Okay, so uh…All my kids know you guys as their aunts and uncles. So if they start calling you “auntie Iskall-“

“-Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m used to it.” Iskall nodded, “Should I wear something special?” 

Jevin waved a hand. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re fine as you are. Anyway, let’s go. Not good to keep my kids waiting!” 

And Jevin tapped a few options on his comm and vanished. 

<iJevin has left the game.> 

Iskall shrugged, tapped over to his server list, and selected the option for the Hub, with the teleport coordinates visible in the centre. 

He tapped it, and vanished. 

<Iskall85 has left the game.>

When Iskall opened his eyes again, he was standing outside a colossal building, looking like some kind of conference centre. It was made of smooth quartz, with a fake parking lot full of fake vehicles that had clearly taken some builder a long time to put together. 

Jevin was standing there, tapping his sneaker impatiently, the blue slime slosh-slosh-sloshing against the ground. 

“Alright, c’mon, let’s get moving.” Jevin huffed, “We’re already a couple minutes late, and my kids worked really hard to put this on.” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Iskall muttered, brushing off his pants and following Jevin towards the doors.

Iskall was assuming that Jevin’s family would have set up a few tables in a corner. He was a slime; and the way Jevin was talking, Iskall had assumed a big family. Maybe ten kids? That would be a pretty big family. 

Then Jevin and Iskall stepped into the conference hall. 

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD!” 

Several thousand slimes bellowed all at once, a wall of sound so deafening that Iskall could feel his bionic eye nearly shake out of its housing. 

He blinked his one eye, darting it around the room in shock. There were hundreds of small tables around which sat an unfathomable number of slimes in all colours of the rainbow. The room was a riot of wild fashion choices, and a deafening rumble of clattering bones and squelching bodies.

“I- I-” Iskall stammered, as he reached up and tightened the nut holding his robotic eye onto his skull’s mounting post.  

“HEY EVERYONE!” Jevin shouted back, “THANK YOU!” 

“Is that Uncle Iskall?” a deep voice said eagerly, “It’s so nice to meet you!” 

“You have…THOUSANDS…of children. Not ten. Not twenty. Not even a hundred. THOUSANDS.” Iskall stammered. 

“Yeah. I’m, uh, the father of all slime hybrids. It’s not a big deal, to be honest. Some other slime would’ve absorbed a skeleton and decided to think about itself if I hadn’t.” Jevin shrugged. 

“All. Of them. ALL OF THEM.” Iskall clutched his head in his hands.

“Yeah? It’s not that difficult. You just, like, shed some slime on a large enough pile of biomass, it’ll grow into a kid. How is this so confusing for you? That’s probably where humans come from.” Jevin shrugged. 

He rubbed his slimy hands together with a hideous squelch, and started traveling through the room, eagerly greeting each and every one of his kids. 

Iskall staggered over to the snack table, piled high with compost, cinderblocks, and beer. He popped a bottle, and started chugging it.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚋𝚛𝚘! ~

💜🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @savemeafruitjuice💜🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚎…𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝…𝚘𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚎!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟺𝟼𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗…𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕), 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃*𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝙽𝙸. 𝙱𝚞𝚑-𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝙰𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚜. 𝚂𝚊𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚊. 𝙵𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕…)

𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜: @tiggleebug @what-youd-expect @veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @titters-and-tingles

@odder-outlet @itzsana-kiddingmenow @kanene-yaaay @turtletimewriting @mysteriouslee

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 😖. 𝚂𝚘, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚕𝚣 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 💞✨‼️

𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙼𝙽𝚃 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸 𝚂𝟸 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙽’𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝚃‼️‼️‼️

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜/𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

It was currently 2:00 in the morning. And the only things keeping Donatello Hamato alive at the moment were cans of Red Bull, Dr. Pepper and a slice of pizza. And by ‘slice’, he means the entire box.

Which…the more and more Donnie thought about it, that was a hell of a combination to consume for the rest of the night. Also super duper concerning. But it kept him 101% awake, so he couldn’t really complain all that much.

But why was the young scientist staying up so late you may ask? The second youngest was currently working on the de-mutagen mutagen to un-mutagize Mr. O’Neil (try saying that 10 times fast). The tallest turtle has been engrossed in the project for weeks; his eyes have been stuck to his computer as if someone glued them there.

But…why would Mr. O’Neil need ‘de-mutagen mutagen?’ Well…you, my friend, ask the good questions at the wrong time. You see, Donatello and his brothers kinda…maybe…accidentally…spilled mutagen on April’s Dad…

Accidentally! Accidentally. It wasn’t really as bad as it sounded. I mean, how would you react if you saw your Dad turn into a mutant and start flying all over New York? Pretty cool, right?

…Alright. Maybe it was as bad as it sounded.

Turning April’s Dad into a bat…creature-like…thing wasn’t a part of the plan in all honesty. Which was why the tallest turtle of the four was so stubborn on getting this freaking blob of green slime disgustingness finished.

I mean…it was him and his brother’s fault that the scientist got mutated in the first place. And as well as Donnie knows, that’s April’s only family she has as of right now. And that just makes this whole mutation situation (<- hey that rhymes) even worse.

Donnie knows all too well what it’s like for a family member to go missing out of his control. I mean, have you met him? Or literally anyone in his household? It wasn’t out of the ordinary that they would (or could) get kidnapped, captured, or held hostage from time to time.

I mean, the sky’s blue. The grass is green. They get taken from away each other on a daily basis. Duh.

…Anyways; steering away from that sad but true fact, Donnie’s family was, well, his family at the end of the day. His comfort.

And so to just…take that comfort outlet April once had and not do anything about it seemed…inhuman.

I mean, he wasn’t human…not human in the slightest, really. But you get his point.

Huh. And…speaking of family, if Leo was in the second youngest’s room right now, the young leader would’ve said some statements along the lines of: ‘Donnie! Sit up! Your backs built like a shrimp!’ or ‘Don! Stop typing and sit up straight before your back looks like a crooked tree!’

And in all honesty? He should probably fix his posture. But Leo reminding him every millisecond of the day makes him not want to…

Besides, it’s not like he was using the computer for shits and giggles. He was using it because he needed to use it. Because he had to use it.

I mean, the more and more he thought about it, wasn’t it really his fault in the first place? He was the genius. He was the scientist. He was supposed to know the answer to every. single. problem.

Even if the problem was…well, himself.

But what could he even do at this point??? April cut all contacts with him, Mr. O’Neil could be who knows where, and Donnie just ran out of pizza!

Triple. kill!

Well…perhaps using that kind of phrasing isn’t appropriate at the moment, but your picking up what’s he’s putting down, right?

…oh God, he’s starting to sound like Leo…that’s how tired he was.

The scientist groaned, resting his head on the table and rubbing his arm in irritation.

My gosh did he miss sleep.

Even if he got, like, 3 hours on a daily basis…it was 3 hours of sleep! Which is something he rarely got anymore since everything has happened.

He rubbed his arm a tad bit harder, glaring at his computer screen as if it was the most disgusting thing to ever make way on this planet.

And that’s saying a lot. I mean, have you met Raph?

The purple banded turtle sighed in pure annoyance, tapping his other finger on the desk in a repetitive motion.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

At least this he can do without screwing it up. Like he’s done with absolutely everything.

Donnie tapped faster.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

“You look like absolute sugar honey iced tea, broski.” Donnie jumped at the sudden voice, stumbling out of the spinny chair he was sitting on as he grabbed his bō staff which was planted on the floor. He drawed the staff, only to find his baby brother with his hands slightly up in a surrendering position.

“Oh. Hi, Mikey…” The taller turtle relaxed, dropping his staff in complete exhaustion and sinking into his chair like he wasn’t about to chop the other into pieces.

God, did he want sleep...

“Why are you up so early, Dee? It’s, like, 3 a.m. now…” The youngest turtle asked as he walked over to his older brother, pulling up another spinny chair as he sat next to him.

“Late. Why am I up so late. Morning technically starts after midnight. However, 3 a.m. is way too early to be considered part of the daytime. For most of the world, it is still dark outside at this time. And so, 3 a.m. is considered night.” The purple banded turtle rambled. Mikey blinked in confusion at his brother’s rebuttal, rolling his eyes playfully, “Nerd emoji…”

Donnie didn’t even counter the remark. He wanted to, obviously. Sibling bickering is a thing, y’know.

But he had to finish this cure even if it killed him. And how the way things were going, he would have to be revived 14-15 times in order to complete it.

Mikey looked at his older brother worriedly, seeing how focused and entranced he was on the computer. And usually? That would’ve been an amazing thing. Like Mikey here, Donnie would tend to hyperfixate on certain things and spend hours upon hours researching and de-coding and…

Well, you get the idea.

But ever since April stopped talking to them completely, Donnie’s been so…prone to figuring out a way to cure her Dad.

If there even was one…

And the youngest couldn’t even remember the last time he saw his immediate older brother in a bed. Sleeping. And that made the youngest worry. Worry beyond repair. And if you didn’t already know, he doesn’t do worry. That’s Master Splinter’s job…if you weren’t able to tell by all the grey/gray hairs.

“You're doing the tappy-tap thing; you only do that when you're nervous or stressed about something...” Mikey randomly said out loud.

Well…not entirely randomly.

Anytime the second oldest would do that, he would usually end up moving his hand down to tap onto his thigh, and then the light feeling would be overwhelming for him and so he would start scratching…

It was a domino effect that Mikey really didn’t want to go down if he didn’t have to.

The taller teen looked down at his left hand and…sure enough, yep. He was rubbing and scratching and tapping his arm like some crazy crack addict. He adjusted them so they were in his lap, trying not to fidget with any part of his body but soon started bouncing his right leg. “Sorry…” He mumbled.

“Wha-? No…you don’t need to apologize. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself, Dee. That’s the only reason why I pointed it out.” Mikey rambled comfortingly, frowning a little bit as he saw Donnie’s face in a scowl. The elder’s hands tapped on the desk again, his nails gripping onto the table as he did so.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Mikey glanced at his brother sadly. He’s never seen Donnie this upset before…and that made Mikey worry. And again, Mikey didn’t do worry.

The blue eyed teen went into his pajama pants pockets and grabbed a rubix cube. He honestly completely forgot he had it in there and just happened to remember in this exact moment, but perhaps it was a good thing he forgot.

Because it was obvious his big brother needed it right now.

Mikey gave the other the cube, which he gladly accepted. The taller turtle frustratingly solved the cube…not because solving the cube was frustrating, but because he was frustrated with himself.

“You…wanna talk about it…?” The youngest asked gently. “No…no not really…” The older said as he looked at his computer blankly, solving the cube.

My gosh he needed sleep. And he knew he said that a couple times already but being tired was starting to get…well, tiring!

And you know what the worst part of all of this was?

He did the best he could.

The best he could muster wasn’t enough but at least he tried. Saving the world every day and night sometimes didn’t always go as planned.

But was that good enough? No. Of course it wasn’t. But at least he tried. He always tries. There hasn’t been one mission he hasn’t at least tried to do his part.

It's just kinda hard when you’re a 5'8 mutant turtle that the whole world is afraid of and yet you save their asses each and every day.

The irony…

And on top of it all, he hasn’t been making a smidge of process.

The mutagen still looks the exact same as it did a week ago. And the week before that. And the weeks and weeks and weeks before that…

“Dee…” Mikey started, looking at his older brother with sad, pleading eyes. “No. Stop. Don’t look at me like that.” Donnie scowled, “I’m not in the mood to be pitied.” Mikey returned the cold stare slightly, crossing his arms loosely, “Well, you should be in the mood to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Like hell you’re not.” The smaller turtle laughed bitterly, although nothing at the matter was truly ‘haha’ funny. More so ‘what the actual fuck— go to bed’ funny. “Your eyebags literally have a whole story arc right now. A plot and everything. You can’t tell me your not even a smidge sleepy.”

“That’s hilarious. It’s almost like I just did.” Donnie spat, glaring at the rubix cube as he continued to solve it.

The freckle faced turtle sighed, “Just…look. Listen to me for a sec, okay?” Donnie solved the cube, putting it on the table as Mikey held his hand.

“I know that your work is important to you. And I know you feel responsible for Mr. O’Neil’s mutation.” He started, squeezing Donnie’s hands comfortingly, which caused the elder’s hands to untense a bit, relaxing in the other’s hold. The smaller turtle smiled at the small but impactful motion.

He started up again, “We all do. But we’re not gonna get any step closer to figuring out the cure if our #1 scientist bro keeps working himself to death...”

“And by the looks of it? You’re 50% there…” The younger said as he let go of the other’s hand, getting a better look at his face. “How would you feel if I stayed up working on this all week? Wouldn’t you be worried?”

“You’re not smart enough for that.” Donnie mumbled, a small smug smile on his face.

Mikey gave his brother a playful punch to the shoulder, rolling his eyes playfully as his older brother laughed, tears welling up in his eyes. The blue eyed teen’s eyes widened in surprise, looking up at him.

“Are those…happy or sad tears…?” Mikey asked. “Probably both.” Donnie snickered, wiping away his tears, “Sorry. You know how emotional I get when I’m tired…”

The smaller teen hummed in acknowledgement, resting his head on the taller teen’s shoulder. “How about this: I’ll stay with you in you’re lab to help you go to sleep.” He offered, a small reassuring smile on his face as he looked up at Donnie once again.

“Okay…but what do I get in return?”

“A good night sleep.” The younger deadpanned.

“Touché…” Donnie hummed, now too tired and too emotionally drained to argue at this point. He yawned, standing up from the chair as the action was soon being followed by the other turtle in the room.

“Do not kick me while we’re lying down, got it?”

“Nooooo promises, bro-bro…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Okay…I feel utterly ridiculous.” Donnie mumbled as he crossed his arms in Mikey’s hold. Since Donnie couldn’t sleep, the youngest thought it would be a great idea to give him a hug just like their Dad did when they were turtle tots. Which, was to basically hug them from behind while the turtle being hugged was lying down slightly.

It helped them sleep on hard nights…and it seemed like Donnie was having a hard night.

“Don’t be. It’s alright.” The youngest smiled reassuringly, giving his brother another tight squeeze. “Dad did it exactly like this! You’ll fall asleep in no time!”

“Well, Dad’s a 6'2 mutant, Mike. You’re 4'6 while I’m 5'7. This hug is nothing but just pure awkwardness...”

“I’m 4'10!” The smaller mutant corrected, obviously offended by the false statement.

“Then I’m 6 feet tall.” Donnie chuckled.

“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy! Do you want this hug or not?!”

The elder chuckled, making no further comments as Mikey hugged him. The two sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company as the quietness overtook the room.

“I’m…sorry for being such a dick earlier…” Donnie murmured sadly, “I wasn’t being bitchy on purpose…I was just…” He paused, trying to figure out what he was going to say before suddenly losing the train of thought. “Stop thinking so hard. You’re gonna hurt your big brain.” Mikey pouted, poking Donnie in the cheek a couple times.

“And don’t worry about it. I didn’t take it personally. You were really agitated and tired so you had to let your Alpha male come out. No shame in that.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. So I’m sorry.” Donnie simply mumbled, before blinking in confusion a couple of times, “Wait. Did…Did you just call me an…Alpha male?”

“I sure did.” Mikey beamed proudly.

“Ugh…I hate you so freaking much, y'know that?”

“Suuuure you do. I’m the Alpha, I’m the leader, I’m the one to trust…” The youngest started to sing, rocking himself and Donnie side to side as the eldest tried to get out of the hug. “Ihi rehefuse to get comforted by ahan individual thahat knows thahat atrohocity by heart.” He snickered.

“Oh come on! I think I’m a pretty good singer!” The purple banded turtle only rolled his eyes at the comment, scoffing lightly, “Meehee and yohou hahave different definitions ohof thehehe word good…”

“Fine then! I’m a great singer!” Mikey challenged.

“Lihihike hell yohou are, yohohou bihig oaf.”

“I’m shorter than you, Einstein!”

“Doesn’t mehean your nohohot bihig…” Donnie mumbled giggly but smugly.

The youngest glared, jabbing Donnie in the side, causing the russet eyed turtle to shriek loudly in surprise. Mikey giggled, poking Donnie in the sides repeatedly. “The Boo scream from Monster’s Inc goes crazy, bro.”

“M—Mihihichael!”

“That’s my name~! What’s up? You need something?” The orange banded turtle asked teasingly, peering down at his brother who was now squirming uncontrollably.

“No? Well okay then…” The youngest mused as he continued to wreck his brother. “W—Wahait! Wahait! Ihihi’m gohonna wahahake eheveryone uhuhup!” Donnie squealed, leaning against his little brother’s chest as he squirmed in the hold.

“Then stop laughing then.” The younger one huffed, smiling even more as Donnie’s blush increased in volume and size. “Buhut you’re tihihickling me!”

“I think that sounds like a you problem, dear brother of mine. Maybe you should try being less ticklish and it wouldn’t happen to you!”

Donnie’s giggles became more frantic, turning his face to hide in Mikey’s side. The younger smiled at the shy gesture, ceasing his tickling for a moment.

“I promise I’ll stop when you want me to, okay?” Mikey said with a soft smile on his face; which, was nice and all but at the same time why did he have to be so nice about it???

Donnie nodded embarrassed, preparing himself physically and mentally. “Oh! And thanks for opening this spot for me, Dee.” The smaller mutant giggled as he scribbled his fingers against the crook of Donnie’s neck, which made the taller turtle flail around and try to hit him. “Hehey! Hey! That's not very nice!”

He pulled one of Donnie’s arms up and wiggled his fingers directly in his underarm. “NAHA— *hic* NOHOH!” The older cackled as he desperately tried to pull his arm back down as he hid his face deeper in Mikey’s side. The blue eyed mutant awed teasingly at the sight, chuckling to himself as his big brother laughed his heart out.

“NAHAT *hic* THEHERE! PLEHEASE!” 

“Nahat thehere?” Mikey faked gasped, “What about…right here~?” He giggled, squeezing right above the other turtle’s hip bone. Donnie kicked and squirmed as more hiccups followed.

“Awh…is my big brother tickwish~?” Mikey said as he buried his face into the crook of Donnie’s neck, giggling as the older’s cackles began to increase in volume at the teases. “ShuhuHUT yohOUR’E *hic* TRAHAP!” The purple banded turtle shrieked, trying to push at his baby brother’s face to try and stop him.  

“You’re hiccups are adorable, big bro~!” Mikey cooed, now noticing how red Donnie’s face have gotten due to all the laughing and teasing. Mikey stopped tickling Donnie but his face still remained in the crook of his neck, smiling at the giggly mess he made of his older brother. Donnie glared while laughing, pushing on his baby brother’s face.

“StaHAP!!! Stohop…”

“I’m not even doing anything!” The other laughed as he hugged Donnie, rocking him back and forth again.

“Lihiterallty dihihie…” Donnie giggly grumbled, trying to wipe off the grin happy smile his brother plasteed on his face. “Yohohou’re. the. absolute wohorst…” He giggled tiredly, curling in on himself as he swatted his baby brother away from him. 

“Now…do you wanna go to bed or should we…” The orange banded turtle trailed off of his sentence, looking down to his elder brother whom’s eyes started to droop.

“Pff. 'Night, Dee.”

“Mhm…”

Donnie relaxed in Mikey’s hold, which made the younger one’s eyes soften greatly. He pulled out his phone, taking a picture quickly and going into the family’s group chat:

👁💀👺💥Teenagers who are Mutants who are Ninja’s who are also Turtle’s🍕🌝🧫👼

Yo 😼😼😼

Mikey???

What are you doing up so early?

>:3

Ur lucky Don isn’t online here Leo

He would go on a full on RANT abt the ‘late’ and ‘early’ bs

I’m aware…

So what’s up, Mikey? You okay?

Yeah💕💥!!! I’m fine!!!

Just wanted to tell you guys that I’m in Don’s room catching some ax’s ✨✨✨

WJAT??

BAHAH EXCUSE ME

CAN I JOIN

NONO STUPID AUTOCORRXT

Z’S I MEANT Z’S. AS IN SLEEP

S L E E P I N G

LIKE SNOK MIMIMI TYPE STUFF

Jesus…

Mikey. Never do that again.

IT WASNT WVEN MY FAULTT

SO DOES THAT MWAN NO AXES???

SHUT UP, RAPHAEL

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕!!!

Oh grow up, Raph

Yeaaaaah Raaaaaaph, grow up 🙄🙄🙄

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕‼️‼️‼️

Anyway 😾

I came into his room bc he was working on the mutagen thing

Oh…

Poor Don.

He’s been working on that thing for ages

Thanks for doing that, Mikey.

I’m sure he appreciates it.

He better

My shell hurts from supporting his big ass

DAMN

Just go to bed, Mikey— b4 Leo kills the both of us

Love ya bro

See u when u and Don wake up

Love you guys too 💝💘💖💗💓

Mikey smiled as he turned off his phone, putting it on Donnie’s nightstand as he relaxed against the bed frame. He rubbed his brother’s shell comfortingly, humming a small tune softly.

“Hey, Mike?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for this. I…didn’t know how much I needed it…thank you. I love you.”

Mikey smiled brightly, squeezing Donnie a tad bit tigther, “Love you too, Don. Now go to sleep before you become more wrinkly than you already are.”

“Oh, fuck you…” Donnie chuckled, drifting off to sleep along with his little brother.

Things weren’t perfect. I mean, they never will be. They never would be.

But being apart of a team means your never alone.

And being apart of a family means you’re never alone.

And as long as Donnie had his…he’d be quite alright.

He can finish the mutagen later…as of right now, he needed to go the fuck. to. bed.

And thanks to Mikey, he can finally do that.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚FIN˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

(P.S.: If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging!!!)

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Last Angel of the Garrison

Author: Altiria

Artist: Voci

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Castiel

Length: 35000

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

Tags: Space - AU, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Possession,

Posting Date: October 10, 2024

Summary: The War between Seraph and Daemonium has existed for eons, long before humans had even reached out into space for the first time. A war that has been dumped straight into the lap of Alien Hunter Dean Winchester just after he rescues the lone survivor of a Seraph garrison: Castiel.  Choosing to join the fight to save Castiel’s people Dean and Castiel must work together. But there are things unsaid in Dean’s past that connect him to Daemonium more than Castiel realizes. While secrets kept by the Seraph are only beginning to come to light, forcing both of them to adapt.

Excerpt: Dean had seen many aliens before; blue and green-skinned humanoids, creatures of slime, gas, or horns. Aliens were… inhuman, they didn’t look like him, they weren’t from earth and didn’t have their history. But this guy could pass as one, easily. If not for the glowing blue eyes and black inky wings fading away right before Dean’s eyes. “You injured?” Dean asked for lack of anything else to say.  The guy mouthed the words to himself and stared at Dean for a long moment before suddenly speaking. As if he’d mentally translated everything in his head before daring to communicate: “No, I am simply drained of my grace.”  “Right,” cus that made any sense, “so the fuck happened there? And no offense but uh… what are you?”  The guy’s face wasn’t entirely expressionless, but there it was lacking. He remained utterly cool, and oddly neutral as he stood and finally released the guns. Dean made an aborted grab for the guy when he stumbled, only for the dude to catch himself on Sam’s- the extra chair. The guy sucked in a sharp breath, obviously pained. “Dude…?” Dean asked as the guy, and felt a fissure of worry. The guy said he was fine but… what did that mean and how crucial was grace for his species? “I am a Seraph of the lord, you may refer to me as Castiel,” Castiel said in a damned deep voice. As he caught Dean’s eyes, Dean noticed the glow from his eyes had dulled, fading away and it seemed to take the last bit of the guys- Castiel’s energy away. “You should probably sit down,” Dean suggested as he stepped away from Baby’s console, she was not great but well enough for Dean to focus on Castiel for the moment. Plus, Daemonium were notoriously bad at tracking, they’d unlikely to be attacked any time soon. “You look beat dude.” 

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[maskedbutsilly]

I have an entire multiverse hell hound bs au going on and in one of the current timelines it’s with slime as president after murdering quackity blah blah blah BUT slime kied Wilbur aswell and one of my favorite parts ABOUTZ THE AU ITSELF ( even though nobody asked or more or less prolly wants to read or hear ) is that ghost(bur) and alexia ( <- ghost Quackity but nonbinary femme basically to set the difference between his alive self and dead self ) leave little bouquets of what their main biomes they reside of have for eachother. so for example because ghost can’t stay in the tundra for long and that’s what alexia is banished to they’ll leave coded bouquets, a bundle of lilac, lavender, periwinkle, daisy, and some allium wrapped in brown paper and tied with a white satin ribbon stained with blue dye ( as is the paper but in hand prints ) and place it right where his flower field biome meets the tundra, always attaching messy little " enjoy these my sweet blackberry!! remember to dress warm!! " type messages, only for alexia to leave small bouquets filled with winter berry branches, winter blueberry branches, pine branches and cool spruce sticks they found wrapped in a cleaned and dried arctic fox Hyde, tied with a burlap ribbon they cut into shape herself and sending a " I love the flowers, blueberry, please enjoy the berries I found!! tell the animals there hello for me!! " against that same tree. they having nothing but a platonic relationship but more close friendship since alexia lost most of her memory from the relation to her death, whereas that remembers everything. and ghost not having the heart to tell alexia that he remembers meanwhile alexia can’t bring herself to tell him she remembers less than she lets on, the few times they’ve met alexia melts in any warm temperatures, meanwhile ghost freezes after only a short time in the tundra. her ‘ living ‘ through some of the worst blizzards known to man meanwhile ghost deals with the burning of constant summer thunderstorms, always so close yet so far away. alexias icy hands melting against ghost and burning them, meanwhile ghosts warmth caused her to melt, essentially a candle and a flame in opposite temperatures. sighing. the blogs based off of them don’t do them justice… also im so sorry for writing so much…

this went from so cute to tragic at the end…. i love when people make universes so diverged from the canon itself, i love seeing it and i wish i was that creative ;—; anyway ghost and alexia trading bouquets is so damn adorable i had to draw them <3

ALSO ALSO i LOVE WHEN PPL SEND ME LITERAL PARAGRAPHS IN MY INBOX,,,,FLOOD IT I MEAN JT I WILL READ THEM ALLKKKLLL

THANK U FOR SHARING UR LOVELY AU !!!!!!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

how would the sdv townies react to a farmer that wears lolita / ouji fashion?

like imagine there's a new farmer in town and they tend the farm, go fishing or mining in the most impractical clothes ever !! (but it's pretty so who cares lol)

I searched for the meaning of lolita/ouji, because honestly this is the first time I've heard of it. Quite an enthralling article, by the way! Thanks anon, both for the question and the interesting information 💕🌺

For those who don't know what it is: basically, Lolita fashion is a Japanese subculture that was based on the clothing style of Victorian era and Rococo style. No one knows exactly when this subculture emerged, but Wiki said that it was somewhere around the 70s. Found a Tumblr post for an example of what it looks like, or you can look it up yourself. It's pretty, but it's definitely Hell on earth if you somehow think of working on a farm or in the Mines in such clothes 😅

Sorry anon, but I'll make it for bachelors/bachelorettes this time. Hope you don't mind 💕 Anyway, back to the question...

SDV bachelors/ettes react to a Farmer that wears Lolita/Ouji outfit while working:

_________________________________________

Ha, see! When Haley said that if a person wants to, they will always look beautiful and fashionable EVEN at work. EVEN if that job is digging in the dirt and picking up roots. And back then, people told Haley it was stupid and not practical. But Farmer is proof of her words, look at them! *Pointing at Farmer dressed up in a beautiful outfit that's covered in dirt and grass in a lot of places*. Ewww. Uh, or maybe not....

Sebastian thinks Ouji's gothic outfit is so cool, but doesn't understand why it's what the Farmer wears to pick pumpkins and cranberries. Do they like being stuck doing laundry for so long? Because he doesn't see the logic. They want to look pretty all the time? Okay, Farmer's choice. But they'll definitely need a tonne of washing powder, because dirt and dust will not spare the Farmer's pretty clothes (especially where the fabric is white).

Emily's heart cracked to pieces when she saw that Farmer had soiled their beautiful clothes in slime and monster blood. She was, of course, immensely glad that her chaotic friend was okay, but.... Maybe the Farmer will let Emily make clothes for them that are fashionable AND practical, to their taste and style? Plus the blue-haired girl wouldn't turn down the opportunity to try a new style in sewing clothes, especially considering how incredible and expressive Farmer's outfit are.

This valley seems to attract people with a bizarre choice of clothes. Alex doesn't understand why the Farmer is not satisfied with, say, an ordinary jacket and jeans. Or a T-shirt with jeans. Or any other clothes that don't look as weird. He's seen something similar to Farmer's clothes in Haley's fashion magazines with one eye once, but it's still weird to him. Especially working as a farmer in that suit in the summer heat all day.

Oh yes! Abigail recognised the style! A few years ago she'd always fought with her parents because they wouldn't let her daughter go out in "occult clothing" and couldn't understand that Abby had the right to express herself. The gothic Lolita style was her favourite, but she later wanted something a little more comfortable (and she's not a big fan of skirts). So Farmer, who is going to Mines in this outfit is either the bravest or the craziest person. The outfit is so cool, but it's kinda uncomfortable.

Shane almost choked on his beer at what he saw. A Farmer was seriously going to work in... this? Do they even know how much effort it takes to take care of a chicken coop alone, and that it's not a job for a fucking-? What is this shit anyway? Fashion? They kind of came here to become farmers, didn't they? What the hell does Shane care, though? Let the weirdo wear whatever they wants, he doesn't give a damn.

But that's completely impractical! Maru always prioritises convenience over beauty in her choice of clothes. Who would, say, be engaged in inventions and experiments in dressy clothes, when the probability of spilling machine oil or (Yoba forbid) chemical reagent on oneself is quite high? You can't wash such things afterwards, and it will be a waste of expensive fabric. The Farmer looks great (though a bit eccentric for Maru's taste), but you shouldn't be farming or fishing in such clothes.

As long as Farmer doesn't go overboard with their clothes and expose themself to overheating or difficulty breathing properly - then Harvey has nothing against their style. It's a bit odd and extravagant, but they're an adult and have the right to wear what they like. The worry comes, though, when the Farmer's told the doctor that they're going to fight the monsters in the Mines in these clothes. Yoba have mercy, maybe Harvey can talk them into wearing some protection, like helmet or something? Please, he's getting nervous....

Penny will be honest - as a child, she had secretly dreamed of some dress like this before. But having grown up, the red-haired girl became rather reserved and modest, afraid to step outside the bounds of comfort and afraid of the negative reaction of others. On top of that, such outfits were usually not cheap. Seeing Farmer running around in such a beautiful outfit and not really worrying about it getting ruined, while Penny could only dream of it made her feel.... envy? Sadness? Both? *Sigh* It's complicated...

Wow! Yo, sick outfit! Hey, Sam definitely remembers Abby used to wear something like that before her parents made her stop doing it. Farmer looks great! Except it's unlikely the clothes will be as chic after tilling a field. Or fishing. Willy used to say that some bait stinks for a week at least. So be careful, Farmer, it's easy to ruin an outfit like that.

This is Farmer's choice, but Leah should warn - going to the forest for mushrooms in such impractical clothes will end up with Farmer covered in cobwebs, leaves, and most likely, somewhere a sleeve will get caught on a branch and tear the fabric. As if the artist herself sometimes has a hard time with her clothes - blueberry bushes and thistles can be very treacherous and sticky. And also painful. That's why the Farmer's going to have a hard time. It is better to let them sacrifice one day without their beautiful clothes and go to the forest normally.

Elliot himself spends so much effort and time to style his luxurious and unruly hair, to iron his white shirt perfectly, to polish his shoes to a dazzling shine. The writer can't imagine such a thing - to do all the hard work on his appearance and clothes, to spoil everything in Mines at once. The Farmer looks so wonderful, don't they feel at all bad about ruining the expensive fabric of their clothes? Of course, Elliott is in favour of the idea of trying to look good at all times, but in some places it may be inappropriate.

[saystrinity]

when i tell you i have been WAITINGGGG for someone that writes for charlie. my saviour omg ANYWAYS WE’RE GOINF OFF TRACK

could you write something about charlie with a partner (who isn’t relatively famous) and he teaches them how to play minecraft on stream?? tysm ‼️‼️☹️

i love feeding the masses with my charlie content >:33 and this is the CUTEST idea omg!!

enjoyyy :)))))))

˚ ༘ ೀ charlie slimecicle: learning curve ⋆｡˚

- insisted on you doing a bit for the stream intro (disgustingly teary puppy eyes until you caved in)

- and so he buries you under a pile of plushies in a corner of the room moments before the stream starts, the two of you cackling as you descend further into the fluff dimension, drowning in fuzz

- he plays his best cool as the stream starts up, idly chatting as he flicks through tabs, distracting chat from the lack of actual content so far (the title being ‘I AM STREAMING. I AM LIVE.’ under the ‘just chatting’ category)

- the build-up soon begins; “actually, chat, i just wanted to tell you guys about the brand new slime story plush coming out, pretty soon..”

- you do your best to contain your giggles, as stoic as possible for someone hidden under a mountain of stuffing.

- squealing as he digs you back out, swiftly taking you in his arms and proudly presenting you to the camera, his arms pulled tight around your middle as you attempt to wriggle from his relentless grasp, wildly (and futilely) kicking your legs

- settling into the desk chair he’s placed beside his for you, watching with a shy smile as chat explodes; ↳ maeronpa_: STRANGER gem2day: CHARLES THAT IS NOT A MARKETABLE PLUSHIE luca_on_mars: STRANGER DANGER WHO IS THIS

- “stop- chat, it’s not stranger danger!” he laughs out, turning your chair to face his as he fits a headset over your head, thumb lingering reassuringly against your cheek for a second as he brushes loose strands of hair back

- charlie’s audience knows you, but not as you - as more of a cryptid, than anything; a muffled voice from behind the door of his office, mid-stream, or as a loud bubble of laughter behind the camera of his instagram stories, maybe even a flash of hair in the background of a picture every once in a blue moon.

- the decision to actually show your face, you in your entirety, was one you agonised over for a long time. on one hand, you wanted to make yourself actually known to the world - a person, rather than a poltergeist.

- on the other, you worried about the consequences of putting your face on such a large platform as charlie’s.

- ultimately, you decided to go through with it

- something charlie was very much ecstatic about

- like leaping and bounding around the house when you asked him to teach you minecraft - on stream

- half due to the fact he could finally show you off, let everyone know he managed to bag someone like you, and half so he could prove you actually existed in the first place ↳ (the matter of your existence being brought up on an episode chuckle sandwich, schlatt’s remark of “if they even exist..” being met with charlie’s exasperated yell of “YOU’VE LITERALLY MET THEM”)

- the steady realisation from chat that you’re you, screen lighting up with thousands spamming your name, alongside sentiments such as “FINALLY” and “WAIT THEY WERENT A BIT???”, then devolving into hostage situation accusations; ↳ scslimed: ARE YOU DOING THIS WILLINGLY dishevelledavocado: kidnapping someone for the bit is crazy taypotts: WAIT WAIT BLINK TWICE

- you simply giggle as he scrambles to defend himself, promising chat he found you “organically” (”char, what does that even mean?” “like, in the wild!” “are you saying i’m an animal?”)

- finally delving into the game - him more or less perched on your shoulder the entire time, as he peers at the screen from beside you, out of frame hand splayed on your thigh to hold himself up

- having to move said hand to frantically take control of your mouse most times

- you failing almost exactly 1 minute in when, instead of sticks, you simply start crafting shit tons of buttons

- ignoring charlie’s desparate pleas for you to stop, instead grinning wickedly as you watch your stock of oak planks deplete

- “do not dig straight down,” he warns, tone grave as anything. “okay!” you chirp, digging straight up instead, karma hitting you in the form of a steady stream of gravel piling down on you

- shrieking as he intervenes just in time, lunging for the mouse and dragging you away from immediate death

- throwing a minor (major) fit the first time you do die, the only sounds you can hear being the quiet crackling of the virtual lava you walked straight into, and charlie’s hysterics, his hiccuping laughter as he sympathetically pats your head, which you’ve placed on the desk in a moment of true defeat.

- “can we not just call phil? mr minecraft?” you whine, lifting your head just to throw it into your hands. "WE DON’T NEED HIM!” charlie exclaims, reaching over you to hit ‘respawn’.

- desparately trying to tame every animal you come across - spending up every single bone on every single wolf, spending your time in villages fishing so you can get yourself a cat

- soon becomes one of charlie’s longest streams, him knowing the two of you were in the deep end the moment you declared you were going to ‘beat that damn lizard’

- several hours (and deaths) later; you finally step into the end

- so blinded by your satisfied excitement, you don’t even register that you’ve stepped a block too far on the tiny island you loaded onto

- face dropping instantly, watching in stunned silence as you simply just fall into the void, exchanging pained glances with charlie as the death screen fades in, the tauntingly tempting dilemma of ‘respawn’ or ‘title screen’ glaring right back at you

- streamendsabruptly.gif

[solaneceae]

consume

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) tw: cannibalism, fuga impossivel references

“Hey, Slime. Can I eat your leg?”

The hybrid makes a huh of confusion, still adjusting his trusty gas mask over his face as he loots his own dead body, codified arm still glitching from fresh respawn. Cellbit can hear Jaiden and Étoiles conversing nearby, Bagi and Tina not too far from them, and the entire area reeks of blood and death.

Red Spawn had, strangely enough, become some kind of safe haven for now — people from all teams that were begging for a break, for a chat, for any modicum of normalcy had started to flock there as the end Day Four drew near: separated lovers falling into each other’s arms, Étoiles coaching everyone on PvP techniques regardless of affiliation (because the guy just thrived on being kind and helping people become the best version of themselves, it seemed. Cellbit appreciated that), his very presence a deterrent to anyone who would dare to come and break the temporary peace (BadBoyHalo).

And now that they didn’t have to look over their shoulder every second, the cat hybrid had started to think. A risky endeavour in a place such as Purgatory, but after exchanging a heated kiss with his husband and getting the sudden urge to bite his mouth off, he had started to wonder.

There were so many bodies around their spawn. He had seen many for the past few days, most of them belonging to his own team, but the urge to chow down on fresh meat had been nowhere as strong as right then with Roier, not even close. (First day had been the odd one out, as everyone in red team had lost their minds to the fog and joined in on that fucked up banquet.)

A hypothesis is blooming in his mind. He needs to test something. “Can I eat your leg?” he repeats to a befuddled Charlie, who looks at him, then at his body, then back at him. “I mean. Sure? Knock yourself out.”

Cellbit does — and it’s disappointing. It starts off nice, his heart hammering inside his ribcage as he severs muscle and bone and tendon to rip Slime’s leg off his still cooling body, saliva pooling in his mouth as his pupils dilate to eat up all the blue, and he can feel it, the thrill, the desire, the manic joy; but then he bites into it and the leg loses solidity, turning into green goop that tastes like grass and it’s so sour, like an unripe lemon. He spits it all out, grimacing — his palate and tongue almost feel burned. He forgot slimes were corrosive. “Tastes like shit,” he huffs, and Charlie lets out a disappointed aw.

Results: inconclusive. Cause: negative bias, because Charlie is a fucking slime and hence an outlier. 

He asks Jaiden next, and she shrugs and tells him to go for it. (Maybe they should be worried about how flippant they’ve all become about cannibalism, but that’s a problem for post-Purgatory them to deal with.) And this time, it’s good. Her flesh is tender and moist, just the right balance of muscle and fat, and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction as she watches him tear into her thigh with morbid fascination. “How do I taste like?” she asks him. He tells her ‘delicious’ between two mouthfuls of prime cut, and she smiles. “Nice! I’m glad.”

Contrary to what some might believe, he hadn't eaten anything off the Federation workers he had killed. Hadn't reached that point at the time. But now there he is, seeking an enemy body among the dozens of Jaidens lying around. When he finally does, he stares down at it for a long moment, and finds that he has no desire to sink his teeth into it at all. Mmh. He looks up to find Roier, still silent to mind his recovering lungs and plopping down signs that make Étoiles crack up, and he’s so funny and cute and strong and Cellbit wants to crawl into his chest cavity and— “Ah,” he realises, something old and crooked at the back of his mind finally clicking into place.

He thinks of Pac. He thinks of Alcatraz, of that desire that had torn its way into his brain as soon as he had seen that youthful, terrified face for the first time. He thinks of those nights tossing and turning, tongue flicking out in a nervous tick as he obsessively rotated the new guy into his mind from every angle, trying to imagine what his screams would be like, how his flesh would taste, how it would feel going down his throat. He thinks of the pure, unadulterated pleasure of finally making that fantasy a reality, details blurring into red-mist bliss and the song of Pac screaming and crying. He finds that if he had to do it all again, right now, he would, but not like this. This time, dream-Pac would offer himself willingly, repeating I trust you, I trust you as dream-Cellbit reverently slices through his flesh.

He thinks of that thing humans have, when they experience the urge to squish or bite when they see something cute. He thinks of the result of his observations, that he only enjoys eating people if he cares for them.

(Maybe he had loved Pac once, in a fucked up version of a crush distorted by his mania and lifetime worth of trauma. Maybe that was why he had done what he’d done. Now the engineer was more akin to a brother to him, close and important, but that obsessive attraction wasn’t there anymore.)

Maybe it’s just in his nature, to consume the very things he loves. “Something on your mind?” Jaiden asks him later, sleepily, her head resting against his side as the rest of the family dozes off within the Nest in a tangle of limbs and soft blankets. Cellbit shakes his head. “Just. Processing stuff.”

Jaiden hums, and Phil drapes one of his large black wings over them both. The conure chirps, flock, home, and the crow replies with a quiet yesyes.

[ok-ish-hermitcraft-headcanons]

Just a bunch of species headcanons for the hermits! Also they are all either gods/immortal for fun :)

Xisuma (he/void): Voidwalker prince. Knows he's immortal. One of the oldest immortals

Grian (he/parrot/chirp/they): Parrot hybrid, Head/First Watcher. Minor god of chaos. Has lived a thousand lives. Treats YHS as a joke because why not?

Mumbo (he/him): Half Watcher, minor blood god. Does not know he's a god. Eats redstone for fun, scares his friends because of it.

Scar (he/it/vex): Vexling elf (Vex with allay magic). Does not know he's a god. Was born in Riverdale, kidnapped at a young age.

Pearl (she/her): Half-Watcher/moth hybrid. Also knows she's a god, actually likes the Watchers.

Impulse (he/they/yellow): Demon. Very much knows he's immortal, wishing that he isn't because he doesn't want to watch his brothers die. One of the oldest hermits

Tango (he/magma/they): Netherborn avian, Listener hybrid. Party knows he's a god. His Listener traits aren't visible and more of a development from the experience that was his high school to keep him fucking alive

Zed (he/void/wool): Harbinger of the Nether. Knows he's immortal. Looks like a basic sheep hybrid but also has demon wings and black blood!

Gem (she/her): Faun. Thinks she might be a god but it would mean her brothers aren't. Also has magic and can world-hop!

Etho (whatever vibes work for you): Voidling (Voidborn changeling), Watcher. Knows he's a god, could care less. First player turned Watcher. One of the first players

Iskall (they/he/she + some neos): Cyborg (also something else. I don't fucking know anymore). Doesn't care about gods, marked by the God of the Hunt.

Doc (he/it/blast): Creeper/goat/cyborg. Can and will fight the gods, Xisuma hopes that he doesn't find out he is immortal (he knows).

Ren (he/pup/they): Wolf-shifter. Knows he's the god of the Hunt. Idk this dude is cool

Bdubs (he/sun/sky): Glare/phantom hybrid, also has a connection to plants. God of the sun and flaunts it. Also is a full blooded Listener

Stress (she/leaf/spring): Nature spirt. Knows that she's immortal. Looks like a cinnamon roll, would kill you.

False (she/wing/they): Avian, with golden eagle wings. Does know she's a god, could care less.

Cleo (she/they/rot): Zombie hybrid. Knows she's immortal. Spites her old friends by getting attached to Joe. Also one of the oldest players

Joe (any pronouns): Angel of life. Known immortal. Just vibing with the soul he was meant to harvest.

Jevin (he/it/slime): Slime hybrid. Doesn't know he's immortal. Honestly idk much about him

Cub (he/it): Allayling (allay with vex magic.). Doesn't know he's a minor god. Claims to be a vex for fun.

TFC (he/ender): Ender dragon hybrid. Knows he's a god. Brothers with Notch and Herobrine.

Beef (he/they/it): Cow hybrid. Doesn't know he's immortal. He is basically just existing. Gotta love it.

Keralis (they/he/black/empty): Watcher!. Knows he's immortal. I also know next to nothing about this dude

Xb (he/river/fish/they/it): Guardian hybrid. Doesn't know he's a god. Idk fish

Hypno (he/they): Fire sprit. Could care less about being immortal.

Wels (he/him): Angel hybrid. Knows he's immortal. Hates being an angel because they are a bunch of stuck up beings.

----

Bonus (5) Helsmits:

Ex (he/they/void/end): Voidwalker prince, 2/3 Watcher. Yeah knows their immortal

Hels (they/it/he/fire/blaze/hell): Fallen angel/Watcher. Same as Wels tbh. But 10x worse because Wels escaped and Hels suffered.

Badtimes (he/blue/xe/they): Allayling! Also a Listener! Just vibing :D

Xornoth (they/it/red/dark/vine/he): Demonic elf! Demigod and just out there living vines life

Grain/Ariana Griande (she/it/chirp): Watcher! She knows it's immortal! (trans mtf not important to the hybrid sheet but important to me <3)

I went nuts with pronouns the rest of the helsmits have so much more I'm holding myself back bc I'm being forced to bed :( - 🔮🍄

fun!!

(also i’m so sorry this is from jan 2023)

[gorgonwrites]

bound to you, part 4

diluc x fem!reader

wc: 3, 155

author's note: alexa, play Take Me Back To Eden by Sleep Token

cw: 18+, MDNI!!! fem!reader, reader is an artist, oral (fem receiving), fingering, overstim, dacryphilia, body worship, edging, angst MAYBE if you squint, arranged marriage, tooth rotting sweetness bc diluc is a soft man and just wants to love you right

“And then I use orange here against the blue,” you made a quick swipe with your paintbrush, “See how it creates a highlight? The two colors contrast in such a way that it immediately brings your attention to this focal point.” your husband leans over your shoulder to look at the area of the canvas you were finishing. He had declined to paint with you, but he did insist on remaining in your presence for the rest of the afternoon. At first you weren’t sure you could tolerate his audience, but as time passed you both relaxed as he watched your brush dance across the canvas. 

“When did you start painting?” Diluc was directly behind you, bent over so he was speaking directly into your ear. Being so close to him sent a bolt of electricity through you, and you had to steady yourself for a moment before answering him.

“When I was small. I think I was 7 when my father bought me my first set of paints.” Remembering the day you received them made you smile. You had painted the most atrocious version of a cryo slime anyone had ever seen and paraded it around your home for days afterwards, convinced that it was the greatest thing to ever grace your family member’s eyes. 

“I was a little overconfident back then, but I was humbled quickly.” you laughed, “My parents sent me to painting classes and my teacher was ruthless. The first time she told me my skills were worthless, I cried for days.” 

Diluc frowned at the thought. If anyone but him dared to bring tears to your eyes- his thoughts came to a halt. Anyone but him. You were still talking but he didn’t hear a single word, too focused on imagining tears spilling down your face with your lips wrapped around his cock. Fuck. He could feel the growing bulge in his pants, and he was in no position to readjust himself. 

“Y/n, I just remembered I have something that needs taking care of-” he began to retreat, trying to escape to the privacy of his own chambers. Your arm shot out quickly and silenced him before he could finish speaking. You reached up and cupped his cheek with your palm, holding his gaze. Diluc slowly reached up and covered your hand with his own, his bulging cock completely forgotten. 

“Are you unwell?” you asked quietly, surprised by the courage suddenly coursing through your veins. You brushed your thumb across your husband’s bottom lip, his eyes widening in response. 

“I am very well, I assure you.” he breathed. Your hands were so warm on his skin. “I have one more thing regarding the winery that requires my attention. Once you’re finished here, have Addy help you bring your things inside.” You began to pout. “This is the last thing I have to do for the next few weeks, I promise.” 

“Words mean very little to me, Diluc. How do you intend to comfort your lonely wife?” His response was a wicked smile, and he took your hand from his cheek only to hold it gently in both of his own. 

“I think you’ll find I can be very comforting if given the chance, angel.” a pang shot through your heart. He continued, “Your hands are warm today.”

“I- I haven’t used my vision to cool myself since you’ve kept me company this afternoon.” You gasped as he brought your hand to his lips, brushing them over each of your fingers. He then looked at you with a stern expression on his face. 

“Don’t do that anymore. I mean it.” Diluc wanted to know all of you, and you continuing to hide  a core part of yourself every time you were in his presence was beginning to weigh on him. 

“But the other day my hands were too cold and you withdrew from me, I was being careless, I-” you were speaking rapidly, barely louder than a whisper. You stopped suddenly when he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. 

“I didn’t withdraw because your hands were cold. I withdrew because it was the first time you reached out to me and I was surprised.” He looked up at you and smiled again. “You think too much, has anyone ever told you that?” It was true that Diluc didn’t like the cold. He didn’t enjoy when snow covered the rolling hills of Mondstadt, he didn’t like cold drinks on a hot day, and he didn’t like even thinking about joining his staff as they jumped into the cold rivers that flowed down from Dragonspine. But he could deny you nothing, and if that meant overcoming this small hurdle, so be it. Your fingers suddenly felt icy in his hand, and goosebumps broke out across his skin. 

“Maybe this will be the first time I decide to do as you ask for a change.” you giggled mischievously, and Diluc rolled his eyes. You were also a brat he was learning, but he’d never say that out loud. 

You were finished for the day shortly after your husband left you. You were reeling from your exchange with him, and your arousal was almost tangible as you gathered your things. Adelinde came out to greet you, and helped you carry everything back to the manor. The two of you were in the library adjusting your painting above the mantle before you finally spoke. 

“How long has Diluc been calling you Addy?” you were curious. He’d never referred to Adelinde by the nickname in front of you before, and you found it incredibly endearing.

“So he finally let that one slip, did he?” Adelinde laughed, “He’s been saying that since the day I arrived at the manor. He was still very young, and I don’t think he could quite manage my full name at the time. Addy has stuck ever since.” The thought made you snicker. Of course he would adopt his own name for her rather than ever admitting that there was a time when he was incapable of pronouncing her name. You both continued to adjust and readjust the painting, careful not to smear any of the drying paint. 

“He worries about you, you know.” Adelinde said absently as she worked with you to finally move the canvas in place. “You’re all he has.” You looked at her, confused. 

“I didn’t think I did that much to cause him to fret over me.” Yes, you liked to push what you could and could not do, mostly because you hated the feeling of being caged like a bird. His requests were always simple things- don’t venture off of the winery grounds when he was away, no housework, no fieldwork, and no going out after the sun set each evening. 

“The young master has grown up in a difficult world, my Lady. Forgive him for being a cautious man.” you knew nothing of what Adelinde referred to. Your curiosity was eating at you though, and you wanted more information on your ever elusive husband.

“What do you mean?” 

Adelinde just sighed in response, shaking her head. If you really want to know, you have to go ask him yourself. You huffed out a breath in response, and instead turned your attention to the painting freshly mounted over the mantle. Courage, you thought to yourself. I just need ten seconds of courage. 

You paced back and forth at the foot of your bed, unable to make up your mind. You had bathed and now wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide from the thoughts whirling in your mind. After your interaction with Diluc earlier, your arousal had continued to grow throughout the evening and it was now almost unbearable. More than that, your curiosity was starting to spill over about your husband’s life before you married him. You needed to know every detail he was willing to share. You’d been walking around your room for ages, and the moon was high in the sky. He probably wasn’t even awake. 

I’ll go to his door, knock, and if he doesn’t answer I’ll come back and pretend it never happened. It took several times of you repeating the thought in your head before you were finally convinced to venture out into the hall. You slowly and carefully made your way through the dark to Diluc’s door, your breathing starting to quicken. You lifted your hand and lightly knocked, half hoping that it was too quiet for him to hear. After a few moments you began to turn away, relieved. Your chest tightened when you heard the lock on Diluc’s door click, and light from his room spilled into the hallway. You froze in place, immediately regretting your decision to come see him. 

You could tell from the wild expression on his face that he wasn’t expecting to see you. He was shirtless, and his hair cascaded over his shoulders. There was a hint of a flush on his chest, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had been doing before he opened the door. Heat began to gather between your thighs at the thought.

“Y/n? Are you well?” He looked worried, pushing his hair out of his face. Grabbing your hand, he gently pulled you into his room and shut the door behind you. Your eyes raked over every inch of your husband, quickly forgetting your bubbling curiosity from earlier. 

“Very well,” you rasped. Courage, you reminded yourself. You closed the gap between your bodies, placing your hands on his bare chest. You could feel his body tense under your touch. Craning your neck, you leaned into him to whisper into his ear. “I came to remind my husband that he left his wife lonely and wanting this afternoon.” 

His hands were on you instantly. He firmly held the small of your back, pressing you closer to him. He took your chin in his other hand, forcing you to look up to him and hold his gaze. His breathing was shaky, and his eyes searched your face for any signs that you wanted him to let you go. After a few moments he was satisfied, and he spoke. 

“And what would my wife have me do to correct such a transgression?” his eyes had a feral look you had never seen before. You snaked your arms around his neck and grabbed a fist full of his hair, pulling his head back to give you access to his neck. He whined as you planted several soft kisses there before you finally answered his question. 

“Ruin me.”

Before you knew what was happening, Diluc grabbed your hips and threw you over his shoulder. Without a word he turned and quickly made his way across his chambers, tossing you onto his bed. He lifted your nightdress off of you easily, exposing your naked body to the cool night air. You reached out for him, craving his touch. He stood between your legs where you sat on the edge of his bed, and held your face in his hands. His breathing was increasingly labored, and you could feel yourself start to shake from excitement. Your face was so close to his. After what felt like an eternity, he leaned down and took your lips in a crushing kiss. 

He kissed you like he was starving. His hands continued to wander, familiarizing himself with your body inch by inch. You bit his bottom lip, making him groan.

“Do that again and see what it gets you.” You most certainly would have, but he didn’t give you the chance. He quickly moved to your neck, biting and licking his way down to your chest. You leaned back, letting your husband explore your body. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, lightly grazing his teeth over it as he rolled your other nipple between his fingers. You brought a hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the moans spilling from your lips. His hand shot up and grabbed your wrist before intertwining his fingers with yours, bringing your hand away from your face. 

“I want to hear you, angel. You can’t hide from me anymore.” He continued teasing your nipples, and slowly made his way down until he was between your thighs. He spread your legs wide, pushing your knees towards your chest. You whined, feeling hopelessly exposed with your husband's mouth inches from your pussy. Kissing your inner thighs, he began to suck and bite lightly, leaving marks that only he would ever see. 

“Tell me you want me.” Diluc’s voice was demanding. You hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could look at him. He had completely halted his actions, waiting for your response. You fell back, covering your eyes with your hands. You were suddenly feeling shy and your voice died in the back of your throat. Your husband moved upwards slightly, reaching for your face. You peeked through your fingers at him and he took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He kissed each of your fingers and then your palm before turning it over to plant a final kiss just above your knuckles.

“Tell me you want me, angel. Tell me how to love you- I’ll give you anything. Everything. I’ll give you all of me.” you felt tears pricking at your eyes as his words started to overwhelm you. 

“Gods, I want you Diluc, please-” you started to cry, “Take what is yours and make me come!” As soon as the words left your lips, his mouth was on your pussy. You were impossibly wet and your juices coated his tongue. He pushed your knees back to your chest again, giving him greater access to your core. He licked a long stripe from your pussy to your clit, and taking it between his lips he began to suck gently, flicking his tongue as he did. 

“Fuck!” you sobbed as he continued his relentless attacks on your now puffy and swollen clit. You could feel yourself close to your release, reaching down and grabbing Diluc’s hair, pushing him further into you. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped. 

“Not yet, angel.” He kissed your thighs and then began to make his way back up to your neck. You whined in frustration, infuriatingly close to coming undone. He peppered your chest and neck with kisses before meeting your lips again. Tasting yourself on his tongue felt wicked. You quickly pulled away, trying to push him back down between your legs. He resisted, and when you huffed in response, he grinned ear to ear.

“You’re a cruel man, Master Diluc.” you crossed your arms, trying desperately to seem angrier than you actually were. 

“Not cruel enough, it seems.” he growled in your ear, and suddenly plunged two fingers into your pussy. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, arching your back from the pleasure. You gripped his biceps and did everything you could not to scream. He slowed his fingers for a moment to let you catch your breath. 

“Like this?” he asked, moving his fingers in and out of your pussy messily, “Or like this?” he stilled his fingers, curling them up into the spongy spot inside of you. You choked as he began to stroke your clit with his thumb, and you could feel a familiar sensation building inside of you. 

“Like that, oh- please, Diluc!” you threw your arms around his neck as he pleasured you, finding his lips as fresh tears started to fall down your cheeks. 

“Give it to me, angel. Let go.” you felt a coil snap in your core and your vision went white, screaming your husband's name as you came on his fingers. He didn’t let up, and you began to writhe under him from the overstimulation. He was a greedy man, and he wanted everything from you. You felt the coil quickly tighten again and just as you came down from your first high, you fell apart for a second time, squirting all over Diluc’s hand. His movements slowed finally, and he gently pulled his fingers out of you. He brought them up to his mouth and sucked them clean of your essence, not wasting a single drop. You were completely out of breath, still holding onto your husband tightly. You were both sweaty, and he loosened your grip so he could sit up and pull you into his lap. You realized he was still clothed from the waist down, and wanting to return the favor you reached for his pants trying to remove them. He stopped you, and when you began to pout he couldn’t help but laugh. He got up and walked into the bathroom to begin drawing a hot bath for you. 

He walked back to the bed where you were still pouting, mumbling things he couldn’t quite make out. He leaned down, his hands on either side of your hips as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. You reached up and began running your fingers through his long hair, and your mumbling quieted as you began to pepper the top of his head with soft kisses. Steadying himself, he kissed your collarbone and then looked up at you. 

“That’s enough for tonight, angel. Let me clean you up.” He helped you to your feet, but your legs were too wobbly to walk after two back to back orgasms. You begrudgingly let him carry you to your bath, and afterwards you carefully put your nightdress back on. You found him sitting by his window, an open book on his chest as he began to doze. You lightly brushed your fingers across his cheek, earning you another smile. 

“Would you like to stay with me tonight?” he asked quietly, without opening his eyes. When you didn’t answer immediately, he frowned and peeked at you in  hopes of catching your expression. You had your hands on your hips, and let out an exasperated sigh. You sat on his lap and put your elbows on his chest, resting your chin in your hands. 

“Master Diluc asking his wife to stay overnight with him in his chamber? Hell must have frozen over!” you tried to sound sarcastic, but your giggling gave you away. Diluc quickly wrapped you in his arms and bombarded you with kisses, making you laugh even more as you tried to escape his grasp. 

“If Hell is frozen over,” he continued his relentless attack, “it was most definitely your doing.” He stilled and shuddered when you placed a cold hand on the back of his neck. You smiled, satisfied.

“Yes, I want to stay with you tonight. If you’ll have me.” Diluc suddenly stood up, bringing you with him. Holding you close, he kissed your forehead and laughed in response.

“Good, because I wasn’t going to let you leave.” 

[mawofthemagnetar]

The door to Doc’s lab squeaked open, and Etho shuffled in lazily. The man himself was standing at a lab bench, fiddling with something- on the bench beside him, a machine the size of a filing cabinet was whirring away noisily. Etho paid it no mind.

“Got the last of ‘em for ya.” He said, holding up a jar of blue slime and giving it a shake, “The last artifake.”

“Perfect,” Doc rumbled, peering in at something through a microscope.

“So, uh, do we have an answer? About the Iskallium eye?”

“Hmm? Yeah, we do. That’s definitely Iskall’s eye. Same materials, same composition, same power supply- matches all the diagrams he gave me when asked. Only difference is, all the artifakes are beat to hell. I don’t know what could possibly have caused these dents, man. Does Tango-?”

“Tango is saying the same thing Tango said yesterday, which is, quote, “they came with the dungeon!” Etho rolled his eyes, leaning up against a workbench that was cluttered with his hard-won artifakes, “So, ah, any luck? I’m risking my life in there for this, you know that, right?”

“You’ll respawn,” Doc muttered, holding a hand out and waggling his fingers. Etho dropped the jar of speedy slime into Doc’s metal palm with a clank, and Doc moved whatever he was examining off the microscope and set about preparing another slide.

“So,” Doc said, “There is a commonality, across all items.”

“Oh?” Etho echoed, hopping up on a bench and shoving a well-loved pickaxe out of the way, “And what’s that?”

“A dusty...residue...thing. Tastes and smells like spent gunpowder, like a rocket that’s just been fired,” Doc said, dropping a slipcover on top of the slide, “It’s fine, particulate residue.” Doc shrugged, and slid the sample of slime onto his microscope, peering in for a closer look.

“And it’s...EVERY artifake, you said?”

“And every artifact, I’ll bet. Keralis’ slippers were a goldmine- just choked with the stuff. Seriously. I put them into a bag and shook them and a ton of that dust came out.” Doc twiddled the focus knobs, and sighed.

“There's more of it. Man, and it's even, like, mixed into the slime! I’m gonna have to ask Jevin for a sample when he’s around next so I can compare.” Doc nodded, and Etho smiled behind his mask.

“Soooo... that’s it, then? The mystery of where the heck Tango got all these artifacts from is...magic dust, I guess?”

The machine dinged, like an egg timer, and printed something out on a long strip of paper. Doc extracted it, and started to read over his results.

And as his eyes scanned down the page, he went very, very still.

“Doc? What’s happening?”

“Etho. Composition of this dust...it’s rock.” Doc said slowly.

“...Rock dust? And?”

“Roughed edges. This rock has never seen water.”

“...Which means...?”

“This rock hasn’t been oxidized. Predominantly...reduced. No clay, no mica...which means...”

“Doc!” Etho sighed, “What are you trying to say, here?”

“Every single one of these artifakes is covered in moon dust.” Doc said flatly.

Etho swallowed.

“Wherever the dungeon is getting these artifacts-” Doc started, hands trembling.

“-Is someplace we didn’t get lucky last season.” Etho finished, "Ah. O...kay."

Both men stared at the jar of slime in silence.

“...Cool. Well, anyway, have fun with your crisis. I’ve got three more frozen shards left!” Etho said cheerfully, and he skipped out the door.

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT 4 Months: Sunset & Sunrise

Content warning: Dark tone, Family trauma

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

 I'm writing this a bit sooner than I thought. I don't actually want to write this out, but everyone keeps telling me I'll feel better if I express my feelings. To be honest to myself, I really hope that's the case, I could really use a pick-me-up. 

So I ended up talking with my family. Telling them everything. Not like I could hide it anymore, now that my hair is made of goo. I guess I can write about that first. Might be nice for a bit to just think about myself. I woke up last Sunday to find my hair a lot heavier than normal, it was already pretty gooey, with strands of hair sticking together or just kinda always being wet. It also felt a lot more rough than before, I could find split ends everywhere, everyday. That night though, the change in my body sped into overdrive. I woke up to find some of my hair giving way and sticking to my pillow. It's really weird, like those sandy soaps made of a bunch of spheres. It made it feel like I was wearing a pile of clay on my head. It also suds up super fast. Just a bit of water and my hair turns into a perm of soap bubbles. It doesn't have a smell but it gave me an idea. Plucking some lavender I was growing outside, I stuck some in my hair, after a couple hours my house flooded with the scent of that purple plant. I definitely put too much in, way too overpowering. Still, it's super cool to be able to change my scent. so now I've been looking into soap making recipes, after all, might as well take advantage of it.

But with every upside, there's a bunch of downsides too. Nothing physical of course, well besides the fact there's no way I could pass off sandy sky-blue sludge as normal hair no matter how many hats I put on, and Sundays just happen to be the day that my family likes to get together for brunch. I still haven't told them, I just couldn't. They wouldn't get it. I knew they wouldn't get it. So I made the decision to call my mother, to let her know I was feeling sick and I couldn’t make it. That's all it was supposed to be, just that. But when that phone call was about to end, when she told me she loved me I…

Everything spilled out at that point. It felt like it wasn't even me talking, I just had to sit there trapped in this wrong, wrong, wrong body as words and emotions poured out of my mouth that I didn't have a faucet to turn off. I don’t really even remember what I said, but I know what I told her, what I was doing, the pain I was going through, and the plea for forgiveness. She didn’t speak, not for a while at least. Then I heard it. The three words I didn’t want to hear, before she even spoke I could feel myself mentally barricading myself away from the inevitable blast my psyche was about to receive. “Are you sure?” 

Are you sure?? ARE YOU SURE?! What did that even mean??? Am I sure of what I’m doing? Am I sure everything will go alright? Am I sure I want to smash every mirror that gets near me? No. I knew what she was asking. It was all of them. It was every question. Are you sure it’s safe? Are you sure you can handle the harassment? Are you sure you want to hurt me and the people around you because of this? Maybe that last one isn’t fair to her. I don’t know. It felt like she said it.

I remember that night, when I told my mother I was trans. I was still living with her at that time. She asked the same question, and I told her yes. We talked for a while after that as I explained more of it to her, but when I climbed up to my bedroom, and when I looked back, her face was in her hands, and she had started to cry. She later admitted to me that she was terrified of possible persecution and the hate I’d get by simply existing. But that image was still stuck in my head, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I don’t expect to ever forgive it, and I could tell as I sat in my bed, holding my medication close, she had her head in her hands, holding back tears as she told me she loved me. I just apologized, I don’t know what for. I just felt like I had to. I said that I loved her, she said it again, and I hung up.

I spent the next few hours dissociating in my bed. Simply trying to stop thinking about how badly that all went. Bottling up every emotion I could get my hands on while the others I couldn’t reach in time became tears. It also turns out that goo for hair is really hard to maintain when under a lot of stress. When I came to, most of my hair had fallen onto my bed sheets. Spent way too much time scrubbing it out the scent of lavender. I don’t think I can stand that scent anymore. At least my new hair regrew quickly during my tea break. I don’t really know if writing all this helped. Maybe I’ll just have to sleep on it.

After I cleaned myself up, I spent the rest of the day ignoring my mental health. I just sat on my computer staring at a bunch of games I didn't want to play, and a bunch of videos I didn't want to watch. I sorta just stared at my monitor until I realized I had gotten around ten notifications from friends asking if I was doing alright. My girlfriend had messaged me before the phone call with my mother, and after not receiving a message for six hours, she started to get worried. She practically forced me into a voice call and wanted to make sure I was doing alright, I lied and said I was, she didn't believe me and didn't pry further. We talked for a while until I brought up the phone call on my own. Then she told me she loved me, and said she'd be there for me always. She stayed with me the entire time, as I started crying again, and she let me cry, waited patiently, and then asked if I wanted to watch some silly videos. I really did. Sometimes it's really hard to remember there's still people that do care about you. I'm sure my mother cares in her own way, even if she's not aware how much it messed me up. I don't know how things will go in the future, if there's going to be even more pain. But I think I'll be ok, at the very least there are people who can pick me up when I can't keep running, people who will slow down and walk with me. I'll be ok, I'm gonna run to see what the future holds.

Update: So, I'm not really sure how to say this. Writing about yesterday really helped me out so maybe today will help as well. I was working my shift today, construction work, and my legs suddenly gave out under me while I was carrying a heavy frame. It was like my bones just bent, and I couldn't stand up right. I basically got flattened but there weren't any serious injuries Or anything. My bones weren't broken, no bad cuts, just what's definitely going to be a lot of bruising. I got forced to take some extended medical leave. Paid of course, but I guess this means the next few months are just going to be focused on my changes while I wait around in bed. Which is good, I could use a change of pace.

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

Start - Prev - Next

Mention list: @a-shramp

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

There was supposed to be a Wednesday post, but then Wednesday got hectic lol. So they're both going into one long one: the "I isekai'd Damas into Stardew Valley simply for the sake of a few dreadful jokes and I refuse to take it back now" au

Spring, Year 1

Featuring an Incident that occurred the first time I found out what happens if you try to give an npc a flower but you aren't fully facing them

"It's a what hunt?"

Abigail looked up from the shelf and wrinkled her brow.

"An egg hunt? You know, for the Spring Festival?"

Damas blinked, bewildered.

"I...don't think we had those-"

in the desert

"-in the city."

The desert again. Why does that word keep coming back to me? They're only dreams. Dreams can't hurt you.

The young woman grimaced sympathetically. "Eesh. Probably is for the best your granddad left you the old Spargus place, huh? You barely know anything."

"Oh thanks a lot!" Damas huffed, with a bit of wounded pride.

"Well I didn't mean it like that!" Abigail elbowed him and finally got back to stocking the shelves for her father.

"I mean you got a lot to learn about Pelican Town!"

"So...egg hunt..." Damas pretended to be interested in a can of preserves. The way the light reflected off of Abigail's hair, that specific shade of violet, reminded him of something. A crystal he'd seen once. Somewhere.

"Eggs don't really move though. How do you hunt them?"

Abigail turned very slowly.

"You're...not joking."

"No? I'm not jo- why would I be joking?"

"Oh lord."

The girl raised her eyes skyward with a long-suffering sigh.

"Okay. You'd better come with me."

Be cool, Damas, be cool-

Like you were "cool" with that daffodi-

WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THE DAFFODIL

He didn't know Abigail well yet -- nor did she know him that well. Nevertheless, there was a nervous flutter in his chest as Damas dutifully trudged after her. At first, he thought she was leading them to the mines. An odd choice for explaining egg hunts-

Oh! Were the "eggs" actually slimes? Was that what was hunted?

No, it was not.

Abigail led him to Robin and Demetrius's house.

Demetrius had his clipboard on the table again, strained to the breaking point with notes and charts. Damas had only glimpsed them once and they'd given him a headache.

"Hey Demetrius," Abigail called, "Is Sebastian downstairs?"

"He usually is.”

The scientist glanced up.

"Oh! Abigail! Good morning! And-"

He blinked at Damas, then smiled.

"Young Damas! Good to see you, son."

He reached out a friendly hand to shake. Out of some strange impulse, Damas instead clasped his wrist and forearm. It felt stronger than a handshake, somehow. But when he withdrew his grip, he found blue ink formulas across his palm.

"What the-"

Demetrius blinked. "How did-?"

Then he craned his neck to look at his sleeves. He'd been leaning on the clipboard too long, pressing wet ink into his arms.

"Oh no," he groaned, "not my data!"

"Yeah we're just gonna...we're just gonna go downstairs."

Abigail smacked Damas’s arm and hastened around the corner.

"Hurry up before we have to hear him apologizing to "The Data"!"

Damas followed, squinting at the scribbles on his palm.

"He doesn't actually do that. Does he?"

Abigail shrugged. "Saw him do it once before Maru was born. He'll apologize to diagrams and not his own stepson. Weirdest thing I've ever seen, and I live next door to Pam."

"What is Pam's problem?"

"You wanna ask her? Be my guest," Abigail scoffed, "I'm not going to."

She paused at the basement door and smacked it once in lieu of a knock.

"Hey Seb, you decent?"

There was a clattering, and several painful sounding thumps, and then the door swung open.

"A- Abigail! Hi!"

The skinny boy pushed an absurd amount of hair out of his eyes. The instant he saw Damas, his smile became somewhat forced.

"Oh, uh- I...thought that was Sam."

Abigail sighed. "Ah dangit. You know what? Sam oughta be here too. Seb, this nerd doesn't know what an egg hunt is!"

Sebastian blinked slowly at Damas. "You're kidding, right?"

"Apparently they don't have that in the big city," Abigail said. "For real, he just asked me how people were supposed to hunt eggs if eggs can't move."

Sebastian squinted, jutting his chin forward in comical confusion.

"What? No- how does- what?"

He glanced at Damas.

"Come on man, there's no way you're that dense.”

"Well," Damas answered dryly, "I panicked when Abigail startled me last week and shoved an entire daffodil in my mouth. So the jury is out on that."

Sebastian snorted. "She has that effect on people."

"Okay, what's that supposed to mean?!"

Abigail shoved Sebastian playfully.

"Come on, at least let us in so we can educate this rube."

With Abigail's focus on him, Sebastian seemed to gain a bit more confidence. He stood to the side and waved them in.

"Hey Farmer, I don't think that's what "living off the land" is supposed to mean," he needled.

"Yeah yeah," Damas muttered under his breath.

"Did it at least taste okay?"

"It absolutely did not." Damas made a face, resisting the urge to scrape the phantom taste from his tongue.

"So. Egg hunts." Abigail dropped dramatically onto a small couch.

"If he doesn't even know that, what else doesn't he know about normal childhood stuff?"

"Probably everything," Damas volunteered, "I got my first part-time job with Joja when I was twelve."

The other two nineteen year olds stared at him as if he'd just announced that he slept hanging from the rafters like a bat every night.

"Mmmmmmmy gosh," Sebastian said in disgust, "That's the most depressing thing I've ever heard."

"Yep." Damas folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

He wondered if his blustering manager in the prison corporation ever found out he was the one who deleted an entire server's worth of files before running to Pelican Town.

That was probably going to catch up to him someday.

But that was a problem for Future Damas.

Winter: Year Six

“What took you so long? You have a death wish, babe?” Abigail glared at him.

“I wasn't talking to you!” Damas waved his hands frantically. “I was talking to Jak!”

“That's not better. You know that's not actually better, right? He's like forty minutes old, what was he gonna do, kick his way out when he still looked like a Muppet Show background character?”

"In my defense," the farmer said, "I don’t think it would've gone over any better if I'd said "I think the baby that just came out of you is a reincarnation of the past life's son I keep having dreams about. Because it sounds weird even when I say it."

Abigail glared at him and pulled their son a little closer to her chest.

"You've been visiting Rasmodius, haven't you."

"Have not!"

"That's exactly the kind of crap Rasmodius mutters about when he's on his "potions"! What'd he tell you it was this time?"

"That hasn't happened in years, okay?" Damas protested, "Guy freaks me out. I literally only go to pick up Marlon's stuff. I don't want that mushroom cooking menace around our baby."

"That's...a little harsh, but I'm on-board with it." Abigail carefully moved Jak to her shoulder to pat his tiny back.

"Eeeeehhhh oh I don't like this, how am I supposed to burp him?! He's so tiny, I'm gonna break him!"

"You're not gonna break him."

"Look at him!!! He's so fragile!"

Well, Damas couldn't argue there. The only familiar thing about his son were his eyes. Harvey was saying newborns couldn't see that far, that he couldn't make out their faces as much as their voices yet, but those little blue eyes had zeroed in on Damas’s instantly, like he knew where to look.

Were you this small the first time you were my son? I wish I could remember. But maybe it's better that I can't. You probably won't start having the dreams until you're thirteen, like I did. You can just be you and I can just be me. I'm not going to leave you alone this time.

"Abby can I-?"

Damas made the most pitiful face he could.

His wife narrowed her eyes.

"Are you going to wake him up?"

"No."

"Say weird stuff and make the nurses judge us more than usual?"

"No...?"

Abigail's voice took on a terrible mischief. "Are you going to try to put him in your mouth if someone startles you?"

"You're so mean." Damas carefully took the newborn from her. "That only happened twice, and I was a kid."

"That last incident was only four years ago, honey.”

"Mean!"

[ofnightshadeandthornyroses]

Of Those That are Sanguinary    Pt.1

Eager to shed blood; bloodthirsty.

The Lost boys x fem! reader

A night on the boardwalk is what you needed.

Endless hours and constant double shifts at the diner you worked was making you waste away. Your boss was okay enough but the clientele wasn't guaranteed and you're coworkers – to put it kindly – are mostly cunts.

The diner's closed down for a gas leak and now with a few days off you get to finally come down and get to enjoy the veiw the diner over looks up close and personal.

A veiw you have yet to even bare witness to since you moved here.

You didn't know where to go or what to do first. There were so many stores, stalls, rides, and shows. You just might be here your whole time off. One might compare you to a kid in a candy shop with the way you went around the shops and stalls, looking and trying things out. At one stall you found a metal bat broach with red gems for eyes. When trying to look at the others you just couldn't get that bat off your mind and got it. It looking good with your patch jacket was a plus. After checking some jewelry stands and acquiring some more accessories you head to one of the many food stands near the stage and grab ice cream. Going to the railing to hopefully enjoy your sweet bovine tweet with a show, you're suddenly stopped. Its one of the surf nazis that would would sometimes poke around the  diner.

"Well hello~, didn't know you could dress up so...nice." He says as his eyes rake over your mesh shirt over your bra with your patch jacket zipped only just under. You could practically feel slime from his gaze go over your shorts and fishnets and into your boots. You smiled sickeningly sweet at him, "and I didn't know you made such a great wall."

You go to move a round but he follows. You feel like something else is watching you. "Hey come on. Ditch the ice cream," he leans in and grabs his dick through his pants, " I have something else creamy for ya."

You smile again though this time now thoroughly pissed. "You know you're mighty pretty." you place your curved finger under his chin "I wonder, if I cut you open would your insides would reflect it?"

You bring out your switch blade and poke the case into his gut, thumb above the trigger.

His face screws up, suddenly perplexed. He starts backing up hands raised, but he's ruined your little state of bliss and now you're gonna fuck with him.

"Whoa baby I didn't mean anything. I was-"

"What's wrong baby I thought you wanted to play? Me thinks red might be your color."

"Crazy bit-" You press the trigger, your blade shooting out though not touching him due to the distance he's so conveniently created. It has the desired effect though as the sleez ball quickly walks away.

Now satisfied and in a better mood you practically skip to the railing and sit on it quick to lick the drippings of your now slightly melted ice cream.

You hear them before you see them. The sound of chains and laughter building off of eachother tunes you in and tunes you out of the show currently on stage. You try and ignore it, focus on the blaring music and head bangers, but the sound behind you kept pulling at your mind.

The sound of melodic laughing in different ranges blending together, chains clinking, and leather rubbing together created a sort of siren song that wouldn't get out of your head. You finally spare a glance behind you and see the four infamous bikers of the Santa Carla Boardwalk. Three were playing and pushing eachother around while the other would join with a chuckle and words, deciding instead to walk with a cool stride.

You don't know when your glance turned into a stare but at some point you locked eyes with baby blue. And now they're moving towards you. Oh to everything unholy they're moving towards you!

You're stuck in your spot looking at baby blues and they're about fifteen feet away when five groupies seemed to spawned and stalled them enough for you to get out of your trance like state and find an exit.

Down two sets of stairs left you leaning on a pillar under the boardwalk wondering what the hell just happened. Your heart feels like it's going to pump right out of your chest and your brain felt like it was filled with warm cotton. 

You needed to cool down, to clear your head. To think.

You hear yelling to the side of you. About forty feet away and walk towards it, eager to get your mind off of something other than baby blue.

The sight before you is one of the surf nazi from before and a child in a dated jacket.

"I didn't mean to, really!" The little boy was held in his grasp by the front of his jacket. The evidence of the argument on the front of the surfers denim jacket in the form of what appears to be smashed ice cream.

"That's still doesn't matter when we told you to stay off the board walk! You and those freaks you hang with!"

You had enough at this point. "Seriously? From creeping on women to picking on tots. Is there anything you can't do?"

You put a mocking tone to your voice and bat your eyes with a smirk.

"Oh God it's this crazy bitch again. Look this isn't your business."

"A big greasy pig picking on a kid is what I consider my business." "Excuse me cun-" You punch his throat while he was busy getting in your face. He finally let go of the kid as he fell.

"You good, kid?" As you help him up and he brushes of the sand. "Yeah. I'm Laddie, thank you." "YN, and don't thank me yet, you still need to get away." With that he leaves with a wave and runs off.

You hear the man cough and get up from where you left him.

"You fucking bitch, I'mma get you." You take out your switch blade and he throws a punch. You duck and get him between the ribs and pull while grabbing his throat and squeezing just hard enough. " You're so convenient, you know. I really needed a distraction." You stab again and again puncturing his lung.

Certain that he couldn't scream anymore, you took off your stainless clothes and you got on top and went to work slicing down the middle of his body.

You skin his chest in two equal parts as well as the skin as his thighs and take you excess safety pin from your jacket and pockets and arrange an cut pieces of skin in the vision of your current muse.

Before you go you pick up your knife one more time, reaching into the thigh.

— • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — • —

Laddie ran about the boardwalk searching for the boys. It was a while ago he left the girl under the boardwalk and longer since he last saw them and him and his treat ran into a surf nazi. He finally saw them nearing their bikes looking like they took a quick wash in ocean and a flight telling by their damp hair. They must have fed already.

He tries to stop too late and crashes into Paul.

"Whoa little buddy! Where's the fire!" Marcos head pops out from behind him and they start leaning on eachother.  "Yeah and why weren't we invited!" Suddenly they all stop and take notice as breeze comes by along with the unmistakable smell of blood, in mass quantity.

"Where-" Paul starts but Laddie stops him, his mouth going a mile a minute. "Wait! There was a surf nazi I ran into with my ice cream and he threatened me under the boardwalk and then this girl, she came and punched him right in the neck! Her name was YN and now she there with him! I did smell some blood after I left so I don't know if-"  Dwayne cut him off with a hand an his head. "Okay bud, where did you say this happened?" "Under the boardwalk, that way, near the stage." Laddie points and David puts his cigarette out and says "What'd say boys? Wanna ride?"

A chorus of yeahs and woops followed as the boys got on their bikes and rode towards the smell of blood and Laddies directions.

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

Personal QSMP design hcs and interpretations (PART 1)

1. q!Quackity

ducktaur. predominantly golden yellow feathers and bright orange duck legs

partial heterochromia (dark brown with bits of bluish-grey)

his wear is different depending on which language he is maining at the moment

Eng!Q has an eyebrow scar, calloused hands, and some browning feathers. Wears religious jewelry and warm-colored clothes.

ESP!Q has ear piercings and blue-dyed feathers. Always has a clip-on tie and cool colored clothes.

Post-Tilin death, he either has their ribbon as a necktie (ESP) or belt (ENG)

has a pin of the QSMP logo always on his person

Brushes his feathers before teaching class

2. q!Jaiden

she is the cartoon character reflected by the mc skin, though is nonetheless perceived as human

she magical girl transforms into the vtuber fit whenever she wants to. Most of the time, it's to fight or to protect Bobby

she transforms using a magical brooch that resembles the emblem on her vtuber fit. she can add stuff on the brooch to alter her transformed appearance (like changing the bird wings to butterfly ones, or having a shiny rainbow mode)

she made a smaller, less powerful replica of her brooch for Bobby so he can get into armor much faster

she "draws" things out of her inventory with her fingers in the air (think the spellcasting of the witches in The Owl House, but with different symbols)

When Bobby died, her transformed look takes on a more dark and brooding appearance

3. q!Roier

he's not a spider hybrid but like, an actual Spiderman—literally got bit by a radioactive spider and everything

alternates between his superhero suit and a civilian fit. like jaiden, he transforms between fits superhero style

can fire webs from his hands, has slight spider sense, and also venomous saliva (so i beg of you, do not get head from this man)

wears natural makeup bc he likes to. he darkens it a little when he feels particularly vengeful (this is canon but yk)

the spiderman traits also apply to Melissa, whose dyed lingerie is literally weaved from spider webs

Post-Bobby death, he wears more blacks (both in civilian and superhero fits) and a lot more eyeliner

4. q!Bad

humanoid looking demon. resembles a void-like shadow in extreme emotional states

distinctly has a glowing halo. it has long horns growing out of it + a shadowy demon tail

has his mc skin's hoodie but sleeveless. collared shirts of any color is usually under that + beige khakis, white socks and various sneakers!

His hoodie has a small embroidered symbol of the Order Theoritas, hidden near the collar of the hood

his hair is long and usually tied loosely. wears glasses as well

sharp canines make him look a bit catty

his reaper get-up is well-sewn cursed cloth. wearing the fit makes his halo and tail larger, darker, and more shadowy

there's a block of diamond + an image of skeppy always on his person

He lets Dapper wear the ghost chat bell as a tail accessory

5. q!Spreen

werebear. He turns into a human during sunny daytimes, and is otherwise an anthromorphic bear-man.

black bear, like the mc skin

fashion sense however matches the CC; generally street-looking even with the bulk of armor

canines and claws glow when he's fighting someone in bear mode. he grows them out fighting during his human state

smells like cigarettes

6. q!Slime

a player equivalent to minecraft slime

prefers taking on a humanoid appearance, and has taken it long enough to master recolorization of said state. feels uncomfortable taking any other form as well

experiences pain when shifting (i mean that's also canon but yk)

behaves like a magma cube in extreme negative emotional states. will resemble one if you piss him off enough

he has no actual clothes, he shapeshifts the appearance of clothing. (q!Mariana has noticed, and he doesn't like to think too hard about it) his most external layer is armor and glasses.

he and q!Mariana have each a piece of Juanaflippa's shell on their person

7. q!Cellbit

human. well, not completely according to genetics but is more or less perceived as one.

The CC but wearing the blockman-cubito's fits

wears eyeliner to hide the eyebags. This doesnt work and only makes his eyes more expressive

a shadow looms the upper half of his face whenever he's being super weird and mysterious. It darkens when he's consciously about to do something really bad in a dramatic anime way; this is much more emphasized if he puts on his goggles

he paints his nails and the paint always trails. these glow sailor moon style when he comes into contact with the blood of any living creature

has a caffeine addiction

The chainsaw scars are deep enough that Cellbit doesn't like looking at himself when changing; he forces it though to remember why he's doing anything at all

Taught Richas how to draw the symbol for the Ordo Theoritas. He also has the symbol pressed into the leather of his gloves

8. q!Wilbur

humanoid man of unidentified species. perceived as human.

really is human looking, minus the pointy ears and prismatic irises

wears clear glasses. yellow sweater + sleeveless brown longcoat + grey jeans + black boots

has a black scarf and red beanie both made of wool and embroidered with gold threaded flowers.

always has a guitar on his person. since tallulah entered his life, he's let her put stickers and draw all over it.

They jam together when they can

may or may not have an enchanted singing voice

part 2