#i really need to suck it up and look up beetle (and maybe a little bit of electric eel) biology like i did with spiders

[amazingspider-z]

A compilation of my recent Blue Beetle sketches, including:

Jaime, through a decade (more or less)

Throwing my hat in the ring for a Green Lantern Milagro, complete with a costume that has some nods to her brothers

Two minor variations of a sketch of @wazzappp 's Mantis Blades au, because it's so fun and I had to

and a couple of other potential ideas for 'upgrades' (<he cannot emphasize how much he doesn't ask for these) for Jaime, the first being some type of biological way to emit electricity based on a) that one panel from early on in the 2006 run where he says he can always feel electricity like it has a smell, and b) his glowing finger-pads in his costume, and the second being a pair of antennae, because you can fit so much buggification into this boy

[elioslover]

Ray of Sunshine - Grumpy!Harry x Reader.

Premise: Harry has a tendency to be moody, but what happens when he meets his match? this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

Other Writing

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: She/her pronouns. 3rd person.

⛅️

Harry’s car skids recklessly into the almost-full parking lot, dismissing the concept of carefulness in favour of confronting the driver behind the wheel of a sunshine-yellow ‘60s VW beetle, who had pulled into the lot moments before- which should have never happened because it had been behind him, to begin with. 

As if his mood hadn’t been less than pleasant for the past month, what really set him over the edge was the lack of apology from the said sunshine yellow driver, who only honked his way and proceeded to turn into the parking lot as they seemed to have always intended. 

With agitation, Harry neatly swerves into the nearest parking space, barely managing to stay in the lines as he reaches over and snatches his work satchel from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he slides from the seat and exits his vehicle. 

In hot pursuit, his long legs help him catch up to the sunshine car just in time for the driver to exit, her back turned to him, leaning in through the open door to collect her items. 

By the time she turns around and lazily swings the door shut Harry is peering over her, wearing a black hoodie, brows furrowed, his body tense. 

She recognises him in an instant- it’s hard not to remember the face of a man who is scowling so sinfully as he hit the hooter for an unnecessary amount of time- all because he couldn't be bothered to indicate. 

“Did you not see my blinker?” He grumbles. 

“Clearly not.” She torts, her face still and expressionless. 

“You’re a moron. It was on.” Each word is more annunciated than the last. 

“It wasn’t.” She shrugs, slinging the straps of her bag over her shoulder. 

“You clearly need glasses.” Harry huffs in disbelief. 

“Maybe if you weren’t blasting your music so loud you would have heard that it wasn’t on.” 

Harry feels a wave of shame wash over him at the idea of her seeing him getting a little too into his playlist, in turn, his chest simmers with defensiveness and deflection, 

“Your driving fucking sucks…” He says, getting no response only encourages him to rant further, “And your car looks like it’s hanging on by its last thread, no wonder you’re a bad driver.” He gestures to her car with a look of distaste, “It’s a piece of junk.”

She adores her car, it is not only special but holds the heart of many fond times, adventures, people, and sometimes just conversation. The car sure has been through the wringer- in age alone- but she can hardly afford another, and she certainly doesn't want one. 

So, she tries not to find offence in this grumpy strangers declaration of her ‘piece of junk’ and does her best to take a deep breath before responding in concession- though her agitation has morphed into sarcasm and it seeps through your sentences,

“Okay, sorry Mister Mercedes. Guess I’ll be more careful next time.”

Harry didn't know what he wanted her to say, but it certainly wasn’t anything along those lines. So with an eye roll and the reminder that he’s close to being late for work, Harry starts to walk away and points out matter-of-factly, 

“Yeah fuckin right, you’re an accident waiting to happen.” 

“Asshole.”

“I heard that.” 

He turns on his heels to see her as calm as ever, an amused sparkle in her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips,

“What ya gonna do? Chew me out some more?”

Harry stared seethingly at the rude and reckless driver who couldn't care less about his mood, her focus was on gathering all the necessary items for whatever task she so desperately had to complete that she was willing to almost kill him. 

He meanly mutters, “Have a fantastic day," before walking off for good, dreading work and in a worse mood than ever. 

⛅️

Harry has an hour for lunch, grateful for the assortment of cafes and restaurants scattered within the city square, along with plenty of boutiques, art deco, and antiques to name a few. 

Most days, he is likely to grab a sandwich or coffee- or both- from the restaurant directly across from his office block, but that would be the third time this week and Harry can’t fathom facing any of the staff in fear of becoming a ‘regular.’ 

He meanders around the centre and stakes out the array of food options displayed in each glass window. 

Just when he thinks he may settle on some early afternoon sushi, Harry spots a bright object from the corner of his vision, his head snapping with such haste he must have strained a muscle. 

Parked directly in front of a shoe boutique is his notorious enemy; the sunshine car. And leaning back against a pillar just outside of the store is the bad driver from behind the wheel. She is halfway through smoking a cigarette, her other hand occupied by scrolling through her phone. 

As if his scowl was so strong that it was sent straight to her, causing her to sense his presence, she looked up from her phone and smiled mischievously at the realization of her new enemy's arrival. 

She tucks her phone into the pocket of her black slacks, taking a puff of her ciggie, a cloud of smoke mixing in with her greeting,  

“Ah, Mister Mercedes.” 

Harry nears but notices his frustration thicken with each step into her space. He crosses his arms across his chest, 

“I recognised your car.” 

“Oh, that old piece of junk?” She asks with nonchalance. 

“Yes.”

“Bothered you so much that you decided to come over here?” Her pout is melting with pure mischief. 

“I’m sorry, okay.” Harry concedes, but it doesn't come off as anything but frustrated so his tone softens in volume and intention, “It was a rough day.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His brows furrow.

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Fucking insufferable.” He mutters.

His frustration slips over like that of water on a duck, her mood has been calm all day, and his attitude wasn’t likely to spoil it- right? With another puff, she ponders aloud, 

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There is a moment where Harry almost ponders the purity of his intentions, but dismisses it and chooses to interrogate her- he is far too invested in finding out more about his enemy,

“Do you work here?” 

“Obviously.” She shrugs with the softest of scoffs. 

“Hope you’re a better employee than a driver.” 

Now he’s starting to get under her skin. this is her hour for lunch, why can’t it be spent in peace? She does her damndest to maintain a cool demeanour as she asks again,

“Why are you still here?” 

“To apologize, Jesus.” Harry doesn't mean to snap, but neither of them is surprised when he does. His juxtaposition of words and tone render his sorry useless- they both know it.

He tries to reason with her, explaining his frustration, “And all you said was okay.”

She peers over at him incredulously, repeatedly intrigued by the attitude of this man who has gone out of his way to make an enemy out of her, 

“What do you want me to say,” her tone facetious and fiery, “I forgive you, we all have bad days, sometimes we take it out on strangers to avoid hurting those close to us, you’re probably actually a great guy?” 

“I- yes.” 

“Well now that I’ve said it, you can go on your way.” 

Harry feels stunned like she just let him walk out into the snow knowing that there was soon to be a blizzard, he can’t reason with her- nor does he care to at this point, 

“Jesus. I take back my apology.” He grumbles, hands raised in defeat, his head shaking as he scoffs sourly, “Such a mature little thing, huh?” 

She ignores everything but the last sentence, slowly enjoying the opportunities he’s giving her to indulge in going out of her way to increase his already extreme grumpiness. 

Once more, Harry curses out under his breath and with zero intent to say another word, begins to walk away from her. 

Pulling the phone from her pocket, ready to continue her prior activities, she chuckles and calls over his shoulder,

“Bye, Mister Mercedes.” 

⛅️

It has likely been less than a week since their last interaction and Harry’s enemy has decided to treat herself to a proper lunch- sitting down at an actual table in an actual restaurant for a change. 

However, she underestimated her fitness levels and loosely accounted for a good portion of the time her lunch break consisted of. By the time she arrived and got back to her own store, there would be less than twenty minutes left to sit at a table. 

Takeout would have to do, and once she has placed her order, she waits off to the side of the main counter, waiting to both pay and be gifted with grub. 

The food comes quicker than predicted and with excitement she thinks can't be topped, she reaches for her wallet, but the hostess stops her in her tracks and gestures to one of the tables scattered throughout the eatery and informs her, 

“The man at table four already paid for your order.”

It’s her sworn enemy, packing up the contents of his belongings before taking a final sip of his nearly-empty Americano. Harry doesn’t acknowledge her.

“What’s with this guy?” She ponders aloud before making the swift and frustrated decision to go over to his table.

He is already standing up to leave, still not looking her way, and with a bough of confusion, she finally speaks up, 

“What’s this about?” 

“Strange way of saying thank you, Sunshine.” 

Harry frowns and she doesn't enjoy the way it makes her feel, giddy and begging for more opportunities to bother him, 

“Thank you.”

“Whatever. You’re still a pest.” He grumbles, almost bumping his shoulder into her own as he slips past and hastily exits the restaurant.

⛅️

Harry walks into her store with a better attitude than he has in a long time. Things were starting to look up, but one little thing was still bothering him, and she was staring right at him with a scowl that gave him a run for his money. 

Anyhow, he’s here for a reason; an attempt to smooth over the rocky start that was more than likely his fault. And he hopes she’ll take his apology this time. 

Harry approaches, and with each step, he gets a better view of her distinct frown, lips turned down, eyes quickly turning to loathsome slits. She is no longer leaning across the front counter with laxation, her body stiffening to attention, her hand pressed firmly to her hip. 

She couldn’t fathom anything could have worsened her week, and here he was, presumably planning on sucking away whatever remained of her soul for his own sick gain. With a chest simmering with chaos, she asks with incredulity, 

“Seriously?” 

Harry blinks back, a little awestruck, ignoring the pang of disappointment that greets his heart when she seems to confirm her distaste for his presence, he embraces his mildly peppy mood and remarks playfully, 

“Well hello there, Sunshine.” 

“This is not the time.” She snaps.  

“Aw, is Miss Ray-of-Sunlight in a mood today?” He coos. 

“Mmph.” 

She huffs, hardly meeting his eyes, and Harry quite likes how well she emulates his usually grumpy demeanour, he wonders how similar they might be, decides to find out, 

“What happened?” He meets her at the counter, lazily resting his body against the counter courtesy of the elbow he balances on. He leans a tad nearer, a tantalizing smile playing at his lips as he teases,

“Did you almost crash into someone with your junkyard on wheels?” 

“I’d rather drive this than parade about like an absolute dick in an overpriced German car.” Her tone drips with what Harry feels is both disappointment and disgust. 

He feels frozen under her words like his Sunshine had just revealed herself to be Medusa, a sly Succubus. 

Now what does he do? His confidence sits on the floor with his converse, his sentences have turned to slosh in his skull and she is staring at him with such distaste that Harry certainly won’t be saying a word. 

Stunned to silence, he leans away from her, settling a safe space between their bodies as his features morph from friendly to confused. This only seems to increase her frustration and she fiery snaps, 

“Why won't you stop fucking pestering me?”

Harry subconsciously steps back, straightening up and stacking his defensiveness around his skin like a shield. He has no power to prevent a petty eye roll, 

“Oh, please. This is no treat for me either, Sunshine.”

“Are you kidding?” She gets ready to leave him standing alone in the middle of her own store. 

Harry panics and blurts, “Hear me out!” It comes off more desperate than he would have liked. But she has stopped and addresses him with crossed arms, waiting for his next words. Harry is in autopilot mode, more nonsense spilling from his lips, “I- want to make it up to you?” 

“Why, so you can clear your conscience?” She scoffs with sass. 

“Sure, whatever you say, smart mouth.” Harry has regressed and reflects her unpleasant temperament.

“Go away.” 

Their gazes are glued by the calamity of their conversation, tied together with frustration that feels impossible to unwind. 

Harry just wants to tell her why he’s here in the first place, but what’s the point? His presence is evidently worsening her day. 

And though the soft curiosity in him wants to know why she seems so down, Harry’s focus is returning to the ruin of his afternoon. So, in true fashion, he flails his arms in disappointed defeat and turns his back on her with a wonderful version of goodbye,

“Fine. Fuck it. Have a miserable one, Sunshine.” 

“Likewise, dickhead.” She dismisses, grateful his mood is now as miserable as her own. 

⛅️

When Harry finally exits the glass entrance to the bottom floor, relief rushing over him now that work is over, he’s hardly paying any attention to anything or anyone, already scanning his phone for notifications. But then he sees his cloudy sunshine leaning against a wall, arms crossed, no car in sight. 

He ponders pretending to not have noticed- walked away and gone about his eve. That would never happen though, he wants- needs to see her again- his stomach stays unsettled the deeper their discourse divulged. 

He heads over to her with unnecessary haste, scolding himself as he comes to a halt in front of her. She has been aware of him from the minute he exited the building, already prepared for his arrival. 

His body waits expectantly as she eyes him up and down, a cheeky glint in her eyes and when Harry understands that she is in no rush to speak up, his undying impatience rears its head, 

“What do you want?” 

“For you to stop being so grumpy.” She shrugs.

“Rich coming from you.” He mutters, but when she attempts to turn her back on him as they had done so many times before, more words rush out, “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“I’ve decided to hear you out.” 

“Gee, how kind of you.” 

“I cannot imagine how anyone deals with you on a daily basis.” 

Harry doesn’t take it as an insult, he is fueled forward by the fact that she might be willing to listen,

“I’m actually very likeable.” 

“Do you want me to hear you out or not?” 

He thinks for a moment, leaving her to ponder what in her right mind caused her to take a walk to see him in the first place. 

But, he wants to do this as… right as their attitudes might approve of, so he bravely wraps his palm atop her own, gently gesturing for her to follow and she allows him to drag her along. He encourages, 

“C’mon.” 

“What?” She asks but proceeds to let him guide her. 

“It’s almost six, let’s go eat.” He informs, one step ahead of her as they take the short trip to his regular restaurant

“That is the last thing I want to do with you.” She grumbles. 

“I’ll pay.” He soothes. 

“Fine.” 

Harry keeps her hand cradled in his own, even as they enter the restaurant and he asks the waiter for a table for two. In fact, he only lets go to pull out a chair for her. 

He asks what drink she prefers and if she’d be open to splitting a plate of fries with him. 

But she has been eyeing him with suspicion, and once it’s clear that this won’t waver until she confronts it, the waiter leaves and allows her to question, 

“Why are you being nicer than usual?” 

“Can you stop being snarky for even a second?” He nearly snaps. 

“Ah, Mister Mercedes is back.” She nods as if it were what she had expected all along. 

“No,- Jesus fuck.” Harry feels desperate again, scooching his chair forward, his arms folded across the table, leaning in to ensure her unwavering attention,

 “I- almost got into another accident the day we met.” He sighs out with shame, ready to be met with warranted ridicule. Her expression has already turned to one of bemusement. But he’s not done yet,

“Turns out my left blinker bulb burned out... so...”

She tilts back and finally relaxes into her chair, a gleeful grin spreading to her sparkling eyes, 

“Sweet vindication.” 

“Brat.”

“Dick.” 

Harry has little confidence to spare, now that his confession is out in the open, he is in the dark. 

Her demeanour has slightly diverted swells of amusement and satisfaction dancing along the tabletop.

“Just wanted to try and make it up to you.” He shrugs earnestly, unfortunately having to rely on her newfound information to dictate her next reaction. 

“Make it up to me?” 

He can’t convince himself to meet her eyes, his lowering to study the rings donning his fingers, fearful of humiliation, but not enough to waste the opportunity sitting across from him, looking overjoyed with sweet satisfaction, and far too endearing for him to resist,

“Mm. I didn’t want you to think I was just a grump but…” Her face seems to soften and he feels it safe to continue, “Been tryna ask you out on a date. since.” 

“A date?” 

“Yeah, a date.” 

“Are you crazy?” Her features return to one of confusion, bewildered at his seemingly sudden turnaround, “I don’t like you.”

“Well, I like you.”

“Forgive me for finding that hard to believe.” 

It’s true- that he likes you, and that it’s hard to believe. He likes the surprise shifting his statement. 

“I do.” He nods as if it’s been obvious from the start, “And your attitude, and your silly yellow car.” He admits with bashful fondness, “Guess I hoped we could start over?” 

“Sunshine.” She says. 

“Hm?”

He ponders aloud and it’s her turn to lean forward, stretching her arms across the table. Her gaze has returned to one of sternness, 

“My car. Her name is Sunshine.” She allows Harry a moment to soak up the coincidental information. “She is a piece of junk, but I love her, so shut up about my baby.”

Harry’s head tilts back when a bough of laughter suddenly leaves his lips- amused and even more attracted than he thought possible, he nods along in agreement and chuckles, “Fair enough.” 

There is an elongated pause- at least Harry perceives it to be- as she thinks over the oddly pleasurable past few weeks of finding herself in the presence of a grumpy but playful man. 

So, she gives him one last good look over before deciding to openly give in, 

“You have been a consistent pain in my ass.” He pouts cutely, and she goes on, “Guess we’ll have to find out if there’s more to you.” 

He smiles at that, his head and heart finally settling at the promise of better nights of sleep to follow. Moreso, he’d like to find out more about this so-called Sunshine who seems to simultaneously rile him up and calm him down with ease, 

“‘M name’s Harry, by the way.” He extends a hand.

“Y/n.” Her palm meets his eagerly.

-

Here we go children, this one was really fun to write, I hope it meets your expectations! - Em. xo 💞 this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

[scribblescrabbledepartment]

2 more illustrationsss idk if im really in love with them maybe ill redo them someday

[ID: two illustrations. the first shows two boys walking against the wind in a barren, snowy area. the second shows a creepy, grimy, decaying baby doll.]

story under cut (taken directly from a dream) (this one isnt really my best & it still needs some revising but what ever)

“Do we really have to go all the way out here?”

“Yeah, I wanna show you something.”

Two young boys of eight and ten trudged through a marsh-turned-tundra, one leading the other. The gray sky was difficult to differentiate from the gray ground, and despite the snow and ice covering the area, the land was still somehow spongy and muddy and threatened to pull away their snow boots with each slimy step. Their footsteps would have made a pretty unpleasant crunchy-squishing noise which might be compared to the sound of an enormous beetle being crushed as their boots broke through thin layers of ice and sunk into the marshy ground, but the wind was so eerily loud with its otherworldly howls and whistles that it drowned out nearly every other sound. The younger of the two boys, following behind his older brother, looked warily at the few trees and shrubs poking out of the miserable grayness and thought that they resembled monster skeletons, but would never express this out loud; his brother mustn’t get the idea that he was scared, even though his brother was a little scared himself.

“It’s up there,” the older boy called through the shrieks of the wind. They approached a strange little area which was partially shielded from the weather with monster skeleton trees. About ten feet from the trees was the edge of what couldn’t quite be described as water even during the warmest seasons. It was more like a muddy quicksandy sludge, now mixed with winter slush. Between the slushy sludge and the monster skeletons was a barren strip of land. A couple of objects lay partially covered in muck and snow on the ground.

“What is that?” The younger boy stuck close behind his brother, not feeling particularly fond of anything that was happening right now. His brother snapped a stick off of one of the shrubs and used it to haphazardly dust off the things on the ground—dolls. Two baby dolls that looked like antiques, one still a rosy peach color and in pretty good shape, the other appearing greenish and almost decayed.

“A kid at school told me about this place,” said the older boy, answering before his brother could ask. “Apparently people leave sacrifices for them. You know why?”

His younger brother shook his head. He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. If they didn’t freeze to death out here, he was sure he’d have nightmares for a week just from the visual alone.

“They leave sacrifices because apparently they’re alive. They look pretty dead right now but when nobody’s around they get up and start walking and looking for something to kill, so people leave the sacrifices so they won’t go kill anybody.”

“That’s dumb,” the younger boy said in a voice that trembled much more than he would have liked it to. It was absolutely dumb and it creeped the hell out of him all the same.

“Yeah, it is,” the older boy admitted. “Still kinda neat though. They look really old. I bet they’ve been here for a hundred years.” Doing what, though? He pushed the thought out of his mind. He didn’t need his little brother thinking he was any kind of creeped out.

“Can we go now? This weather sucks,” the younger complained. His brother nodded and they turned around to leave. As they shuffled off, however, the younger boy lost his footing and tumbled over into the vast pond of sludge.

“God dammit,” he cried out in frustration. He knew his brother wouldn’t tell on him for swearing; they always cursed with each other when no adults (or tattle-tales) were around to hear. Grunting, he tried to push himself upright, but he found it very difficult to move in the thick liquid, and his heavy winter clothes didn’t help.

“Here, grab my hand,” the older brother called against the wind, reaching out. His brother somehow seemed much farther away from the edge of the land than he should have been. As he glanced at the ground to make sure he wasn’t stepping into the muck, he noticed that the more decayed-looking doll was missing.

“What the…” he murmured under his breath. He looked back up to his brother and felt his body go numb. On the horizon, moving closer, was what appeared to be a tiny figure.

“Come on, grab my hand!” He tried not to let his panic show as he leaned out over the edge of the pond, but something in his voice tipped his brother off. The younger boy turned his head and saw the doll swimming toward him, slowly but surely, and he began to scream. He screamed and reached as far as he could and tried to shuffle out of the sludge but it was much more difficult than it was getting in, and the doll grew closer. They could see its arms slowly going around like windmills in their creaky sockets in a very poor imitation of swimming and if it had been a scene from a movie they would have been laughing hysterically, but it wasn’t a movie and the movement somehow managed to push the doll with relative ease through the same almost-liquid that trapped the younger boy.

The two were becoming increasingly frantic as the younger brother struggled to free himself and the older boy briefly considered stepping in just a little bit to reach him, but then he surely would have wound up just as stuck as his brother and of no help to anybody. He stretched his arm out as far as he could, nearly falling into the pond as he reached, and as he finally brushed his brother’s fingertips he noticed that the doll had disappeared. And suddenly, so did his brother as something pulled him under at a terrifying speed, leaving the older boy standing stunned and alone in the desolate, miserable grayness.

[elysia-nsimp]

OC introduction: Buggie (Twisted Wonderland)

Basics

Orville Becket, more known as just Buggie (he/they/it/bug/bugself) is an Octavinelle student based on Oogie Boogie from Nightmare Before Christmas. It is the Motherfucker Ever. Also it’s somewhere on both the ace and aro spectrums, but still enjoys romantic relationships. They have described their gender as “mmmm bugs👍”

(Author’s note: I’m still very much learning about noun pronouns! I’m going to use the first three sets of pronouns for this intro for now.)

Buggie is… sure something from the Nightmare Realm. He just calls himself a nightmare creature and leaves it at that. No one knows exactly how old Buggie is, but… I mean, they’re a second year. He fuckimg hates all things school but is scarily good with potions.

Buggie’s maybe 5’9, little on the bigger side, but weighs like nothing? Pick it up and it will bite you. Anyway, Buggie doesn’t really do clubs, but does run a very legal gambling ring somewhere under NRC (and is the undefeated champion for completely legit reasons).

Hobbies, Talents, Preferences

Buggie enjoys cooking! They’re actually very good at making drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. Makes yummy stew (don’t ask what’s in it). A lot of students are hesitant to eat whatever Buggie makes, but it’s probably one of the most competent cooks at NRC, up there with Jamil.

As expected, based on their name, Buggie also likes to take care of bugs. You will always find bugs on them or in their clothes… they have named every single one and remember each and every one of their names. They can also always tell each bug apart, no matter how similar they look. They can also communicate with these bugs as if they were people too. It’s kind of scary.

Buggie ALSO knows a little too much about nightmares. If you fall asleep near him, you WILL have very vivid and awful nightmares. Buggie cannot control this but will not apologize if he doesn’t consider you a friend.

He enjoys bugs, mostly. That and card/dice games. Challenge him to a game, I dare you. He’s unbeaten. His favourite snack is snake stew—no spiders tho. Least favourite food is any kind of salad. Bro won’t eat veggies if you force it down their throat. They also do NOT like it if you hurt their bugs… like… has a PHYSICAL reaction if you step on one. Do not the bugs.

Backstory

Buggie, being a creature from the Nightmare Realm, grew up with a VERY different set of rules than us. Even despite the difference in rules, I think we can all agree that Buggie’s parents SUCKED.

Buggie didn’t get SHIT growing up. No birthday celebrations, no “good job”s when it did good in school… nothin. It grew bitter from the neglect and ran away about a year before appearing at NRC. It wasn’t invited, but it’s here now. No one knows where exactly it came from or how it found itself here, but no one can get it to leave so it’s a student now.

He will not accept any gifts you try to give him. He doesn’t understand the concept of giving gifts to others… he lives off of a “take what you need to survive” mentality.

Unique Magic

Any time anyone asks about their unique magic, Buggie just laughs and responds with “wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

Anyway. Incantation.

“Roll the dice,

Don’t think twice,

And pay the price;

Snake Eyes!”

You may hear it mutter this incantation under its breath during gambles.

Relationships

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul HATES Buggie… it never wears its uniform right and every time he points it out, Buggie changes something so it’s even worse. Buggie just finds it funny though.

Jade Leech

Look, usually Buggie is the one making others scared, but Jade scares Buggie. Actually, there’s an AU where they get over their differences and become extremely close, but… yeah not generally the case.

Jamil Viper

Oh. Oh Jamil hates Buggie. Buggie just LOOOOVES dropping beetles down Jamil’s shirt. Jamil avoids Buggie like the plague.

Literally all the professors

No one can tame Buggie. Teachers hate them.

Other Works

Playlist 😈

Media

^ made by my buddy Howl lol

[myfriendpokey]

meet the beetles

vidcons were new media when the idea of new media was no longer new, was a path with known waypoints, a citizen kane here, a maus there… except as soon as this path was mapped out it no longer applied, the landscape no longer made sense. as if videogames as postmodern form was still cursed with a modernist conception of itself, this shadowy mirror life that seemed to mock and undercut the achievements available in postmodernity (say it with me: "videogames are bigger than the film industry!!"). the idea of some heroic transformative turn being just around the corner became less and less persuasive every year, until we were left with an unsettling sense that the medium as a whole had stopped, that it had died… this came as no news to hobbyists who had always experienced the medium as dead, who lived and worked inside the grisly material husk the format left behind on its movement from tradeshow to tradeshow - always a decade or two behind the cutting edge that the medium wrapped its identity around. but now even the tradeshows seem ailing and the format's own hype-men have either moved on to more exciting variants of stillborn new media (vr! nfts! ai!) or else were shaken by a sense that the tech industry's own master narrative was no longer looking so hot. the consultantification of the medium, trying to shore up a leaky ship with a delayed appeal to incremental reforms… we no longer just say that videogames suck as that hits too close to home, and there's no longer any confidence that these brash provocations can actually be followed up, instead we're left agreeing with each other that the format is actually doing pretty well, all things considered, and maybe just needs a few extra touch ups to look, uh, good as new. there are still frustrations bubbling beneath the new consensus. something i feel i've seen a lot more of lately is a kind of irritated aversion to the "same old thing but with new aesthetics" school of game design, complaints about formal conservatism etc… and as sympathetic as i am to arguments that videogames should just be weirder, i also sort of feel, well, didn't we just do that? does the desire to feel some kind of momentum again really mean we're stuck relitigating Games Formalism II: The Bitch Is Back?

for a sec let's do the opposite and assume the horrible unyieldiness of videogames, their stuck and stubborn refusal to "evolve", is not a failure in art's traditional relation to the cultural unconscious so much as the way that relation manifests. if we take this failure seriously, take it as something which is itself historically new. what would it mean for game-making - to live and work inside a dead format, to be a worm inside the corpse? the decomposing body becomes a visionary landscape, new colours, unnatural tints, sharp contrasts of vividness and paleness - old boundaries melt and run together, yield to gentle pressure of the penetrating beak. there is no longer such a strong boundary between the inside and outside. the bones show through the skin, the hidden things we took for granted renew themselves in their full strangeness. but also: there is no sense of these discoveries doing anything, leading anywhere. as temporary perceptions they might be startling and immediate but the question of what impact the little aesthetic explorers of the fields, worms bugs beetles millipedes etc, are individually having as they gnaw the corpse into something else is probably too fussy to calculate. meaningless bounded riches of experience… that's right, we're back to that thing everybody hates. we're back to aesthetics.

if videogames are haunted by a kind of pop-modernism then modernism itself is haunted by the aesthetic - by an aestheticism it tried to define itself against, the stale drawing-room air of the 19th century. over and over in reading those manifestos we find artistic calls to move past art, into something the authors frequently defined as more "active" than the "passive" role of aestheticism. and part of how videogames and the wider tech industry as a whole present themselves as modern is by repeating these calls, by drawing an implicit line between heroic activity and passive compliance. the aesthetic is imagined as "internal", as individual in the bad sense - a neutralised and murky inner world. whereas what we picture as non-aesthetic is what brings the individual out of herself, into some new socially legible role. the heroic user vs the lotus eating experiencer…! and as a figure out of time the aesthetic subject is lumped in with the other recalcitrant bogeys of tech - luddites, luddism as "a way to call those with whom they disagree both politically reactionary and anti-capitalist at the same time". but it's hard not to feel the luddites got a bad rep these days, and hard to feel like the kinds of participation allowed in a ringfenced public culture are not if anything even more disspiriting than the most "passive" text. one of the most striking features of the new-new-media, forms of new media more fully adapted to the role new media has as a kind of speculation bubble, is their near total lack of aesthetic interest. it almost feels crankish and petty to say these things (nfts, ai art, various metaverses) are boring and ugly - but that's kind of the point, right? the contempt for mere aesthetics is the sign that what these things are selling is the sense of their own inevitability, an inevitability that requires no consent from the people it's enforced upon. aesthetics themselves don't matter… but of course they do, right? how can they not matter?

videogames, as a weak form, have never really been able to jettison the need to appeal to the senses. their most cherished distinction, between "aesthetics" understood as meaning visuals and sound and the "non-aesthetic" of all the other gamey parts that they encompass, falls apart for me the more i think about it: are the pleasures of solving a puzzle, executing a combo, traversing an area really of a different nature to those of reading a text, following a piece of music or investigating a visual plane? to say reading prose is not a tentative, active, problem solving kind of task is just to say you're bad at it. and there's a sense that the odd blockedness, deadness of videogames as a format is itself aesthetic.. i think of the old adorno line that the aesthetic itself is always the extra-aesthetic, that which threatens to overflow the category of the aesthetic and transform life itself. so maybe the aesthetic is always experienced as a kind of provocative failure or stubbornness, a blockage, in contrast to the greased slide to a future no-one really wants or believes in.

so what does it mean to be interested in making games mostly as an aesthetic activity. right now the "game making scene" feels as fragmented and directionless as i've ever seen it - whatever infrastructure is still there now exists to provide networking or marketing opportunities to professionals, themselves ever more protective of their specialised domains and with ever less patience for any merely aesthetic actes gratuits that might gum up the pipes. the people i know still making weird shit seem increasingly cut off, working just for themselves and some friends, and maybe they're happier, i dunno. to me there's something melancholy about this condition of narrowed possibility - the difficulty of bouncing new ideas back and forth to one another, when everyone's constrained to their own holes and all the space in between is filled with advertisements. but as well as that, it can feel like it's hardly worthwhile even trying to rebuild those networks to begin with if it's just going to get us back to where we were. the same spurious claims to importance or social good or "what we need right now", same sleazy power dynamics, maybe a different handful of guys getting a career out if it this time.

and so i keep coming back to the stuckness, the nothingness of aesthetic work, of work that can't be evaluated in terms of historical importance or evolution or journeyman best practice, existing as nothing but sensibility, at a point where sensibility itself is treated as a kind of uncanny and functionless surplus that weighs upon the living. the golden coin that can never be spent, visible only through its absence in the ledger. we test it in the mouth, thought is made in the mouth, we chew, not knowing why, yet. as the guy says in the thing: why don't we just stick around for a while, and see what happens.

[halfdeadwallfly]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers✨

!!! (I realized too late this is five things, ten ppl :(((( sorry abt that one.... Feel free not to read but I wanted to talk abt them haha )

My acappella group--- I was in a lot of groups and things in high school, and I listened to a lot of sentimental graduation talks about people finding their home and their family in those places. It always made me so sad, because I never did. But even though I'm not close friends with everyone in acappella now, I already feel so much more comfortable and at home with it already than I ever did in high school. I love the people all so much, and I'm so happy to be around them every time we go to rehearsal and every time we perform. Being in acappella has been the highlight of my year honestly, and I'm so grateful for it. I love the music, I love to direct and lead and sing, and the people are just so so so kind. Genuinely. Even when I feel anxious or stressed or I feel like I need to hide, I know that I can work through it, because I really just trust that outside of my own social anxiety, these people are kind and genuine. I love them so much and being around them makes me so happy.

Making flower chains -- pure pure fun. Can do anything you like during. Or nothing. Listen to a podcast. Listen to the buggies. Like down. Run around. Frolick. I love finding a good patch of flowers with long stems, esp if there's multiple kinds, and just really investing myself in them. You can find little buggies and greet them and love them so much when you are in the grass and such, and it is super nice to see them all. My favorites are rolly pollies but I also like snails and slugs a lot and also I think ants are cute and beetles and worms so I always try to help out the worms if they get lost

Writing poetry -- very good to do, do not always recommend rereading. Do recommend taking poetry 1 with [redacted] at my school bc he is the greatest and so kind and helpful. I love writing poetry even if it does make me hate myself for being too pretentious sometimes. Sometimes I like what I write and it is nice to talk about with people and get thoughts and opinions

Reading abt gender theory -- Genuinely life-changing thing taking that intro to wgss class this year lolollll. Maybe it is silly of me, but that class really made me rethink myself and where I want to go with my life. There's so much more that I want to read and learn and I'm almost anxious that I can't do it fast enough

Looking at the stars and clouds -- a good one. It makes me happy. I am very small. Sky is beautiful like art. It's the same and it's never the same. I'm getting tired sky is still up there. Space is very very very cool. Clouds are very very very cool

Cicadas -- BEAUTIFUL CREATURES!!!!! they have been so loud this year and I had to wear headphones outside while watering the plants for a while, but I also get to see all of them out there!!!!!!!!!! And different kinds too!!!! They are so beautiful and lovely and it makes me so happy to see them and hear them too most of the time. When I was little they would always be dying under the trees at recess and the boys would mess around with them when they couldn't fly away, so I had to go make them stop so they wouldn't be dying while being tormented by ten year old boys. I was always very mad when they did that and I'm always still super sad to see cicadas in the midst of dying when they can't fly anymore. But I love their singing and their songs and their nice nice eyes, and I like to pick them up if they let me and have them crawl all over my arms because their legs are sticky and nice. They're the prettiest little bugs and I love them

Melted brie cheese -- yummy.

Putting on pajamas after work -- I work in a warehouse with no ac which is ok but kinda sucks in the summer, esp when it's super humid like it is now where I am. I also package coffee that often is flavored with really strong syrups, and is often ground, so I almost always leave work smelling intensely like pancake syrup (less nice than it sounds after nine hours) and covered in gritty coffee. It's a good job and I like it a lot actually, but boy by the end of a day when the temperature is high, it's super tiring. When I get home I just take off all my work clothes and turn off the lights and lie in the dark, and it's so nice and calming and I really love getting to do that, and relax into a calm cool late afternoon.

Drinking coffee with real cream -- Aka. super duper yummy. I get to work before everyone else in the morning, so I make the first coffee pot and I always make me and the other early packaging person's fav blend, and it's basically my favorite part of the morning, watching the sun rise while the coffee brews and coming back to my work area to greet the morning window spiders. At home in the summer, I love making iced coffee with milk and adding just an eeeeensy bit of cream, it's so tasty and it makes it all nutty and buttery and rich, and it brings out all the good flavors.

Listening to podcasts -- thank you podcasts you make me so happy. Right now thank you tanis for driving me insane and thank you wolf 359 for helping me feel calm and safe when I'm stressed. Special thank you to zach valenti because his voice in particular is like really soothing and anyway that sounds weird but like you know what I mean. Past thank you to potterless for getting me into podcasts and referring me to the bright sessions, which was the first audio drama I listened to and got sooo into. Special thank you to lauren shippen for being like my favorite podcaster ever oh my gosh, and honorable mention to briggon snow for being in so many of those lauren shippen related shows. Thank you wtnv for coming near me so I could see the attic. Thank you to literally every show I've listened to. Basically everybody in my life thinks the podcast thing is kinda weird and laughs a bit when I get too into it, but honestly this is like. A really important thing to me now. I love podcasts a lot and they make me very very happy to get to listen to

[thestudentfarmer]

Hello and Good morning, its Time for a reply blog :)

@boondogs I absolutly will share when I find a good way to get rid of the squash Beetles. I've had issues with the beetles every year I've planted zuchinni, grey squash or yellow squash (even for a Few different pumpkin varieties) Honestly i totally spaced on trap crops for this pest issue! I've heard of them and used a few times but mostly for aphids.

If you wouldn't mind sharing, is it hubbard squash your using for your trap crop?

I looked up some other trap crops too, nasturtium, catnip, garlic, onions, radishes, marigolds, calendula, and tansy are a few mentioned. I've used marigolds on school crops before for other pests [potato beetles mainly] and they were both beneficial for removing pests and good food for pollinator species (plus they are edible, can be used for tea and in soap-making) in addition to being just pretty plants.

Last time I wanted to try neem oil, ive heard it works to smother the eggs and bugs? But wasn't able to find any when i needed it. I do have some spray neem oil now so I'll be testing that out when they show up again.

A recent one I saw, works on the eggs mostly. Take a lighter, the super mini torch type works best. Flick it on and burn the eggs. I've done this twice with other eggs that look like pest eggs. A little burn is better than a total infestation.

Another tip from a gardener friend, is to go out in the morning while it's still pretty cool, maybe even dark out with a bucket of soapy water. Flick every adult/younger life cycle into the soapy water, if possible cap and shake so they can't escape. It works, if you get all of them bit is very time consuming and physically tiring with large amounts of plant. For this method, try to cardboard placed out the night before and turn over in the morning, will help a lil bit.

Unfortunately since where im at doesn't really get freezing temperatures (very rarely frosts even) the leftover nymphs/adults that are leftover don't die. Squash bugs overwinter as adults under plant debris (this is why solarizing and keeping the garden clean is important, I'd like to leave the leftovers for soils amendment but cant.) Soil clods,rocks, log piles and buildings are all potential hibernation spots.

I've been avoiding squash plants for awhile because of this. Which sucks cause most squash-plants can provide a lot of food for fairly minimal input. As soon as I've got dirt for the new bed tho I'll likely be planting a few zuchinni.

🌱🌱Happy Homesteading all 🌱🌱

[webhead3345]

Hero of the Dunes AU

Chapter 7 - Downtime

(Ao3)

Link needs rupees, so he spends a day trying to collect more with Ruplen’s help. Voice is not impressed with the delay.

“Do you have any jobs you’d be willing to pay me for?” Link watched as Ruplen struggled to carry a box through his main room toward his shop outside.

“No, sorry,” the merchant said with a grunt. “Not unless you have more items to sell?”

Link shook his head as he tied on his rupee pouch and sword belt. “No. You have any suggestions on where to start looking?”

Ruplen gasped as he set the box down, then he dropped onto it and waved a hand out of his shop and to the right. “I know the Beedle Group usually has weird errands they’re willing to pay small bits for. Um… A few people might have odd jobs that need done. I’d still say your best bet is the carnival games, though, if you have anything you’re especially good at. You can make a pretty rupee if you just stick to it and play the games right.”

Link nodded, because it really sounded like he was speaking from experience. He stepped around the counter of the shop set up in front of Ruplen’s door and he smiled to the merchant. “I’ll check for some jobs then, and maybe try out the carnival games if I still need rupees after that.”

He moved down the street until he located a sign with a man’s face on the front along with the words Beedle Group. The clerk inside seemed ecstatic to see him, and Link was surprised that he looked just like the man on the sign. A triangular red nose, big eyes, freckles, and a bowl of brown hair.

“Hello! Welcome! I’m Beedle! How may I help you?”

His cheer was immediately reminiscent of Ruplen’s salesman voice and Link couldn’t help quirking a smile at the absurdity of it, even if the volume still made him a little uncomfortable. “I came to check if you had any jobs you’d be willing to pay be to do. An acquaintance suggested I check here.”

“Oh! Yes!” Beedle stood and pulled a ledger from behind his counter, dropping it down and pointing to a picture drawn inside. “I’m looking for beetles! I’ll pay a red rupee per beetle you bring. A purple if they’re rare ones!”

Link’s eyes bulged. He and Rift used to go out and collect beetles all the time! He didn’t realize they’d been prodding and playing with living rupee tickets.

Finding the beetles turned out to be the real hard part. He searched through the grass and in crevices for what had to be an hour before he located one. He didn’t have anything to carry it in, so he had to stop his search to carry the bug all the way back to Beedle and get his pay before he could continue again.

He picked up a few other side jobs as well, and by the time the sun was setting he’d gotten forty rupees from Beedle, helped a woman collect her escaped cuccos for fifteen, and earned another fifteen by stacking towers of three rocks at each corner of the town for a crazy old man who seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious.

Link counted his earnings on a bench near the carnival games, their music reaching him muted across the distance and through their tents and doors.

Seventy. He stared at the pouch that glittered in the waning sunlight. Seventy rupees, all in a single day of work.

He leaned his head against the wall behind him, but before he could relax his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Well, a purple rupee for the shield still leaves me with a little to spare. He stood and stretched his limbs before making his way toward one of the food tents.

“Link? Where are you? What are you doing?” Voice appeared to the side, floating in the air and watching him. “You finished off the Temple of Seclusion. Why haven’t you moved on? Why have you been in the same place all day?”

Link paused just before the line at the food stall and pressed a hand over his rupee pouch. “I need a few more supplies before setting out again.”

“So get the supplies and get moving! What’s taking all day?”

Link sucked in his lips and kicked a foot in the dirt. The line moved so he followed it. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

She didn’t seem pleased based on the way she crossed her arms, but she didn’t say more. Instead she silently watched as he ordered two kabobs and stepped away from the stall. It was unnerving.

“You got two?” Voice moved closer, leaning so her face was closer to the kabobs in his hands.

Link shrugged and offered her one. “Figured you might be hungry too.”

She scoffed. “I’m not really here, Link. I can’t eat your food.”

“Oh.” Link flushed and pulled the kabob back. “More for me, I guess.”

She followed as he moved to sit by the wall again, and then she sat where she was, though there was nothing to sit on.

Link munched on his kabob in awkward silence. She still just watched him, leaned partially forward as if he was the most interesting thing around—which he couldn’t imagine with all the brightly colored canvases, signs, and tents around.

“Thank you,” she said out of nowhere. “For the offer.” She gestured toward his second kabob.

Link’s mouth was full and he turned his gaze to the extra, but she was still talking.

“I don’t mean to be short with you, but I don’t feel that you understand the importance of speed.” She leaned back again, at last giving him a little more space.  “You’ve been in the same location all day while there is a monster trying to break its way into Hyrule as we speak. There are people in danger and forced moving against us. Forces looking for you.”

Link swallowed his bite and shifted in his seat uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to waste time. I just thought that I should buy a shield before I left and now it’s getting dark again. I’m trying to move quickly.”

Voice flinched. “You didn’t already get a shield?”

Link ducked his head. “I couldn’t afford anything before. That’s what I did today. I was earning some more rupees.”

“Oh.”

They sat in another awkward silence. Link finished off the first kabob and was glad for the accident that ended him up with two. There was no way he would’ve spent the extra money otherwise, but he was starving.

Voice eyes him as he dug into the second one and she fidgeted.

He forced himself to slow down and wiped his lips. “Sorry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Link blinked and cast his thoughts back. He didn’t eat anything yesterday. He only ate breakfast and the quick snack farmer Dull offered him the day before that.

He placed a hand over his gnawing stomach and cringed. No wonder it’s been killing me.

Voice didn’t need an audible answer, it seemed. She huffed and pressed a hand against her forehead. “You can’t afford that either, can you? Is that why you stayed here so long? To get up the money just so you could eat?”

Her words sounded at once pitying and irritated and Link pressed his lips together at the tone. “I had enough money to eat,” he snapped. “Just not enough time.” He tore off another bite and scowled off to the other side, even though he felt his cheeks growing warm.

Why would she just make an assumption like that? Why blurt it out to my face?

Voice lowered her hand and crossed her arms again. “Then you should stop wasting time,” she snapped back.

“I wasn’t wasting time!” Link’s raised voice drew some gazes in their direction. He cringed and lowered his head, gesturing toward Voice cautiously.

That only made the people give him strange looks as they hurried on and avoided him.

“They can’t see me.”

“What?”

“No one but you can see me, boy.” Voice clearly had a smirk in her voice. Laughing at him because she didn’t bother to tell him these things.

Link pulled the subject away from what probably made him look like a madman, and also turned his head further from the main street to hopefully keep people from noticing him talking to himself. “Boy? How old even are you? You don’t sound much older than me.”

“I am a being sent to guide you on your adventure. How do you know I’m not thousands of years old?”

Link froze. He turned to stare at her indistinct form. It wavered in the air like a pink mirage and he couldn’t make out an expression on her face more than a blur of eyes. “Are you?”

She watched him in a tense silence for a long moment. Then her shoulders slumped and she leaned a little back into her invisible chair. “I’m seventeen.”

Link was a little disappointed. An ageless being would’ve been more likely to know what’s going on. He shrugged the thought away. Voice seemed pretty insistent she knew what needed done, after all. “You’re only two years older than me. ‘Boy’ seems a bit of a stretch.” He grinned.

Voice actually giggled and for some reason that startled him. He didn’t know why, really, he just didn’t expect it. Her form wavered and she sighed. “I can’t keep this up. I’ll check on you again when I have the strength.”

Link nodded as the hem of her ghostly skirt started to melt into nothingness.

“Don’t let me find you slacking off again.” Though there was a playful tone to her voice, he could sense something hard just beneath the surface. Then she was gone.

Link leaned his head against the wall and rubbed his eyes, still holding his half-eaten extra kabob.

What a mess he’d found himself caught in.

“Link!”

He perked up at his name to find Ruplen coming toward him.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

The anxiety that filled his chest like a swarm of bees was probably unfounded, but Link darted to his feet still. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Ruplen’s step slowed and he twisted his lips. “Nothing’s wrong. I just closed up shop, so I thought I’d help you with the carnival games.”

Link pressed a hand to his chest where his heart was still going crazy. “Oh. Thanks.” He hesitated before offering the second half of his kabob to the merchant. He didn’t look like he’d had much of a break, and suddenly Link wasn’t so hungry.

“Ooh, thanks!” Ruplen took it without argument, and then he started in toward the tents and Link followed behind, still trying to get a hold of himself.

“I know you bought a sling earlier, so the game that involves those could be a good place to start. However, you’ve clearly got some training with your sword as well and you can make a fair rupee off of duels—and the bets placed on them—and I know just the best way to ensure we get the most for our ante.” Ruplen jabbered as he walked, pointing out different games and the rules and very intricate knowledge of how difficult they were, what your chances of succeeding were, along with the return on investment based on the amount of rupees or worth of items you were most likely to win and the down payment you had to give to play.

Despite the monetary monologue, Link found himself enjoying the night as they visited different games and invested for a chance to win more.

He definitely lost his fair share, but even then he couldn’t help but enjoy it—a chance away from the stress that had been chasing him the last few days.

By the end of the day, Ruplen had offered for him to stay with him again and they were on their way back to his shop.

“You paid a total of sixty-five rupees on every different game-“ this made Link blanch “-and made a return of ninety-nine! In all, that means you made a profit of thirty-four rupees! Not bad for your first time!”

Link hesitated in the doorway of the crowded house as Ruplen moved in and placed his own winnings on a box. “Could I go ahead and buy that shield, even though you’re not open?”

Ruplen looked at him and broke into a smile. “Of course! I’d never turn down a good deal!”

Link smirked and it didn’t take long before the transaction was done and Link was lying on the couch again, his new shield leaning beside his sword on the arm.

That’s it, then. Tomorrow I have to leave for the next temple. He pressed his face into the cushion of the couch and tried not to let the disappointment or anxiety get to him. I’ll be going even further tomorrow.

Though he lay on the couch all night, he couldn’t get to sleep.

[dustofthedailylife]

Hellooooo, omg I just found your blog and I LOVE IT, your writing is so addictive.

I see that your requests are open and I wanted to ask Itto with a reader that is really scared of beetles.

I have a really bad phobia of insects and the first think I thought when he was released was about this and "what if he had a S/O who are afraid of then" but I never see someone writing about this.

Thank u, have a nice day ^^

Pairing: Itto x (gn!) Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of insect/beetle-phobia - with comfort/fluff at the end

A/N: Ooooh, this is such a cool idea! Thank you so much for this request. As a fellow phobia sufferer I could totally relate to this (arachnophobia for me >.<). I hope you like how it turned out and thank you so much for the compliment on my blog! I'm still so new here and this means the world ;_; (who's cutting onions?)

You were just reading a light novel in the garden of your home in Hanamizaka when you heard a knock on your door. When you went to the door and opened it you found none other than your boyfriend in front of it, looking at you with a wide grin. You and Itto had been dating for just a little while and it was nothing short of amazing so far and the both of you behaved like two idiot lovebirds most of the time.

“Hey there! Thought I’d come over to visit you!”

“Aww, did you miss me?” You lightheartedly teased.

“Maybe.” He said, raising an eyebrow and stepped inside your home, closer to you and placed a loving kiss on your forehead. “Thought we could spend a nice evening together. I also brought some Sushi.”

“Oh, you’re a national treasure! I’m starving! Set it down on the table in the garden, will you? I’ll go fetch us something to drink from the kitchen in the meantime.”

“Will do!”

Once you’d grabbed the drinks you went back outside you found Itto kneeling in the garden next to one of the Yumemiru trees with his back facing you.

“Are you alright over there?” You stepped a little closer to him, with the drinks still in your hand. You were slightly worried that he wasn’t feeling well all of a sudden. “Here drink something maybe that helps w–”

“Look what I found!”

He abruptly turned around, grinning proudly and holding the most disgusting looking beetle you’d ever seen in his palms and was just about to stretch his hands out to show it to you, when you began to scream as loud as your vocal chords allowed. Your flight instinct kicked in and you dropped the drinks you’d still been holding. The glasses shattered on the ground as you jumped back in visible disgust and with fear on your face, shielding your body from the beetle with your arms and started shaking violently.

“Get that thing away from me?!”

He looked at you with a very confused expression which also had a hint of sadness mixed in. His smile was gone and was replaced with a frown.

“It’s harmless. Look! You don’t need to be scared.” He brushed over the back of the beetle softly and it started to crawl up his arm. You started to shake even more at the sight, feeling like the air was sucked out of your lungs. Tears started to well up in your eyes and you were having trouble breathing.

“Please, put it away.” You almost whispered. When he saw what state you were in he immediately put the beetle down and hurried over to you and held you in a loving embrace.

“Hey! Hey! It’s alright, it’s gone. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were so scared of beetles. Why did you never tell me?”

“I never had any reason to.” You sniffled against his chest.

He brushed over your hair with his palm and hugged you even tighter. “Well lucky for you because you now have someone to protect you from them so they’ll never get too close ever again, eh?”

"I'll make sure to keep the soy beans away from you in return." You joked and snuggled into him a little more.

“Look at you being all heroic for me!"

After a little pause he laughed and was fully back to his usual cheerful self with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Although I’ll never be able to take you to my Onikabuto battles, so you’ll just have to believe me when I tell you that I win aaaall the time.” .

You huffed and gave him a light punch against the chest.

“You’re such a dork.”

[danktrektho]

5 times Julian Bashir said “Oh Garak I could just kiss you” + 1 time he actually did

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39486180 pairing: garashir word count: 4034 rating: T+ fic under the cut

At the replimat, Julian and Garak are at their usual table. Julian is assuming his usual pose for such an occasion: leaning in, elbows on the table, hands clasped together in the air, wrists tilted so as not to obstruct his companion’s face, and smiling broadly. He laughs loud and scoffs louder, and Garak can’t help but think if his eyelids were a little bit lower, this would be a date. But it’s not, and he can’t get caught up in such fantasies. 

Julian takes a bite of food, he’s already mostly finished. He has a longer lunch break than he usually makes use of, mostly because he’s called away on emergency, but also because he is a bit of a workaholic. He’ll sometimes talk through his food, trying to hide it in his cheek like a hamster, or he’ll talk too soon after swallowing and his voice comes out deeper and choppy. This time is one of the latter.

“I’m sorry if I'm a bit distracted, I’ve been working on a vaccine for a disease from the gamma quadrant. So far it’s only jumped species to a type of ferengi beetle, but that means the ferengi are all the more at risk of catching it.”

“That’s quite alright doctor, your love for your work is commendable.” Julian looks down quickly and smiles shyly. Garak notices a slight flushing in his cheeks and he is captivated by it. Human skin seems so plain to a cardassian and he relishes the opportunity to see it color. He tampers down on the impulse to flare his nostrils. Suddenly he feels like leaning in, too.

“Thank you for saying so.” Another shy smile, this time with teeth. He sets down his fork. “But I don’t feel very commendable today.” He takes another bite of food. Garak remembers he is supposed to be eating. “I’m stuck on something, like a bad hang-nail.”

“Hang nail?” Garak inquires. He sips his red leaf tea demurely.

“Oh, it’s like… sometimes humans break a nail before it grows out, and when it does it can get caught on things and tear. It’s quite painful.” Julian takes a gulp of his tea.

“Oh, you humans and your keratin. It’s the toughest part of your body, yet it’s still quite weak.” Garak hides his smile by bringing his cup to his lips.

“Keratin… Oh Garak, I could just kiss you!” Julian says, throwing his napkin down on top of his plate.

His scales flush. “What?” he sputters. Julian picks up his plate and walks swiftly to the reclimator, swinging around their table like he’s doing a gravity-assist around the moon. “You just gave me a great Idea. I have to work while I’ve got the inspiration. I’m sorry to cut this lunch short, we’ll resume our discussion later.” He says, and then his long legs take him out of the replimat and swiftly to the infirmary.

Garak is left blinking in surprise. He shakes his head and drinks his tea.

Some weeks later, Garak has almost forgotten about that entire incident when Julian walks into his shop, rubbing his hands together in a nervous fidget.

“Doctor,” he says with a slight smile, tilting his head. Bearing his neck, and he doesn’t even think about it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

If this were his fantasy, Julian would say something romantic here. Or maybe not. Garak thinks that’s not really his style.

Julian smiles, like Garak’s comment has sucked all the nervous energy from his shoulders, and he stands at ease. “I know you're busy,” He looks around, and the store is empty. Garak gestures about the room and gives him a look that says ‘really now?’ and Julian flushes ever so slightly in embarrassment. “But I’m afraid I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Really? And what does this favor entail?”

“I need to recover a file. One from during the occupation.” He steps further into the shop, pacing as he talks. “You see, a virus has recently jumped hosts from cardassians to bajorans, and i’m afraid nobody knows how to treat it; except of course the Cardassians.” “And you want me to help you recover this file?” “Precisely.” he nods.

“You’re not worried about letting a Cardassian onto your computer system?”

Julian titters. “And what would you find? Medical files? If I had my way, every species would share their medical knowledge. No, I have nothing to hide.” and he smiles as if that’s true about everything in his life. But it’s not. Nobody can know about his genetic enhancement. He hides his whole self behind that open smile, and Garak believes it. Everything about Julian screams ‘I wear my heart on my sleeve’ from his boundless enthusiasm to his shining ideals to his expressive voice and deep brown eyes.

“I suppose I can close my shop for a few minutes.”

“You think it won’t take very long?”

Garak indulges in a smile, one that shows his pride over his talents. “No, my dear.” The word doctor is conspicuously absent from that sentence, but Julian doesn’t notice.

“Great!” he says, smiling enthusiastically. The walk to the infirmary is short, and nobody spares a glance at the handsome couple they make.

The computer interface is easily accessible and Garak’s fingers glide over the blue buttons, working so quickly and fluidly that Julian has a hard time following his inputs. Instead he looks at Garak’s face, which holds a stare of concentration, and a slight smirk of satisfaction. He pulls away from the computer and smiles in a reserved manner. The smile makes his eye ridges quirk up and makes Julian’s stomach do a flip.

“It’s done. Before you ask, I knew which disease you were talking about. You’d be surprised what things a tailor can pick up.” Julian beams at him, and Garak’s world tilts off-kilter. “Oh Garak, I could just kiss you!” he says, and he flies over to the desk to take a look at the file. Garak clears his throat. 

The walk back to his shop is hard, because a part of him wants to stay there and see if the doctor actually will. When he gets back to work, his thoughts are distracted, and he pricks himself with a sewing needle. It doesn’t hurt, mind you, the needle is so small, but Garak briefly entertains the idea of going to the infirmary for it. He shakes his head. It’s funny that for a man who hates going to the doctor so much, he’s fallen for one.

This time months have passed and Garak has put the whole thing out of his mind, it’s safer that way. Julian walks into his shop looking elegant like a bird. “Ah, doctor! I’m afraid your piece won’t be ready for a few days yet.” Julians shoulders slump. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about. I’ll need the suit sooner than that. I’ve ah, got a date with a holosuite.” Garak quirks an eyeridge up. “Surely a man of your stature can land dates with non-holographic women.” Julian smiles, clearly flustered. A voice that sounds like Tain admonishes Garak for the fondness overtaking him. “I’m, uh, actually going on a date with a man.” He says, testing the waters. He doesn’t know how cardassians feel about homosexuality, and even if he did he wouldn’t know how Garak feels about it. 

Garak’s nostrils flare and his neck straightens out. “Well.” He clears his throat. “Shall I make him a suit too?” Julian chuckles nervously. “You’d have to ask him, I suppose. I’m not in charge of dressing him.” Julian looks down at his shoes. He rocks on his toes.

“Ah but I am in charge of dressing you, my dear doctor. I’ll shift my focus to your suit and have it ready to pick up tomorrow.” Julian smiles, and it takes up his face like a crack in a facade, looking as sincere as it is small. 

“Oh Garak, I could just kiss you.” He says softly, before he even realizes it. Garak is treated to the sight of a true flush of his cheeks. Julian clears his throat. “I mean, thank you.” He nods like he’s confirming a decision to himself and it’s final. “I, ah, appreciate it.” 

Garak is frozen in place, held by some invisible force, and their eye contact sends electricity through the air. Garak is the first to break away from it. Julian looks down at his shoes again. When Garak speaks, it’s from a voice rough with disuse. “It’s no trouble at all.” He says. Anything for you is implied.

Julian smiles, as if to stable a wobbly lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow” he says, and walks out, limbs buzzing.

The next day, something’s off. Garak can smell it in the air. He dons his yellow tunic ensemble with matching shoes, and keys into the station’s security network, as he does on his more paranoid days. He takes the pieces Odo has gathered and places them together with insight Odo can’t match. There’s going to be an attempt on Julian’s life today. 

He walks from his quarters in the habitat ring casually as if it’s a regular day. He gets on the turbolift and rides it down to the promenade, but instead of turning directly into his shop he walks past the replimat and into station security. 

He and Odo are friends but Garak suspects he never likes someone unexpectedly showing up in front of his desk. Odo is suitably disgruntled when he greets Garak and asks him why he’s there.

Garak leans in conspiratorially. “I have reason to suspect that an attempt will be made on Dr. Bashir’s life.” 

Odo straightens up, in an imitation of a natural way he’s seen others straighten to attention, but his movements do not follow from bone and sinew and are too fluid. This does not bother Garak and has not bothered him for a long time. He wonders when he let his guard down.

“Well that’s very serious.” Garak inclines his head. “I knew you would see it that way,” he says, almost-smiling.

Odo looks like this information bothers him. He furrows his loosely formed brow in consternation. “What do you base this speculation on, exactly?”

“As you know, recently a former colleague of Bashir’s escaped from a federation penal colony. There has also been a rise in illegal cosmetic surgeries– Illegal because, if i am not mistaken, they do not perform background checks nor do they afford proper caution in order to complete the surgeries quickly. Recovery time takes about a day, or else you won’t recover. And finally, Bashir has a date today, with a man.” Odo scoffs. “That’s hardly enough information to work off of, and I’m curious as to how you acquired it.” “I like to keep informed about current events, constable.”

He scoffs again. 

“So, what will you do with this information?”

The constable looks flatly at Garak. “There’s nothing I can do. Any precaution taken would be an invasion of Dr. Bashir’s privacy, something the federation evidently cares a lot about.”

Garak and Odo share a moment of not-quite scorn at the way the federation goes about justice. 

“I understand.”

“Now Garak, I don’t want you taking this into your own hands. I’ll keep a close watch on Bashir if it makes you feel better.”

Garak’s eyes gleam. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” he says, and they both know that Garak will anyway, and that Odo won’t stop him, but even changelings can enjoy pretense, so he settles into his chair– melts into it, really– and resumes reading from his padd as Garak takes his leave of the room.

Garak’s shoulders do not slump, he does not sigh, he does not clench a fist or flare his nostrils. No, nobody can tell how disappointed he is just from looking at him. He looks the picture of casual, although his reputation means nobody will treat him as such. It’s a short walk to Quark’s, which is a good place to gather intel on visitors to the station. He’ll have to get back to work at some point though, as Julian’s trousers sit unhemmed on his worktable.

He sits at the bar, which is somewhat empty, but Morn’s there, providing a sense of normalcy as he chats with another patron. 

Quark steps up to Garak like a batter would step up to home plate, though he wouldn’t understand that reference even if you told him what it meant. He’s cleaning a glass but it’s already spotless and Garak can tell he’s just doing it to keep his hands busy. “Let me guess, a glass of kanar?”

“Rokassa juice.” Garak counters. Quark looks almost offended. 

“Coming right up.” he says with deference.

After a moment he sets the juice down in front of Garak, and then plants his hands on the edge of the bar and leans in. “So why are you really here?” He whispers. He’s never been good at whispering to aliens, who can’t hear his voice at a natural whisper; and so his whisper sounds quite loud in the morning atmosphere of the bar. 

As Garak answers, Quark's face forms a smug smile, glad that his assumption was correct. “I want to know who has the holosuite reservation with Doctor Bashir.”

Quark pulls back. “Well.” he says with grandeur. “I can’t just give out that information. It’s private!” Garak sighs exasperatedly and hands him a slip of latinum.

“Only a slip?” Quark complains. Garak just nods. “I was surprised it was a young human man, considering which program they chose. His name was Da-veh or something like that. Dayffe?”

“Last name?” Garak asks. “Appearance?”

“Let me look… Dave Jackson. He had red hair and a beard, and stood as tall as Bashir's shoulder.”

Garak smiles. It unsettles Quark. “Thank you for your assistance.” he says. 

Quark looks a little self-conscious when he says “Don’t mention it.”

Garak drinks his rokassa juice as he scans the bar and dabo tables for anyone of that description. There is no one, and not about to go on a wild goose-chase he finishes his drink and goes back to his shop to work on the suit. He sews a bug into the seam, feels bad about it, and damages it’s power supply so it will only last a day.

 It’s ready and in fine shape when Julian walks in to pick it up. He strolls in with a confident ease, one you wouldn’t know was meticulously practiced.

“Here’s your suit, freshly finished. Would you like to try it on before you leave?”

Julian tilts his head and Garak tries and fails to not look at his neck. “Yes, I would.” Garak hands over the clothes and Julian goes into a dressing room. The pants are creased fashionably in the front and flared out a bit at the ankle to swish when dancing and call to mind starfleet uniforms of the 2260s. The bowtie sits nicely on his collar bone and the pleats in the shirt make the outfit look nice without the sports coat. The sports coat, on the other hand, is the right length and style, but the arms are too wide. Julian doesnt notice it. He steps out of the changing room smiling. “It looks great Garak!”

Garak tuts. “The seam needs to come in a bit more on the arms. Step up there and hold still.” he says, gesturing to the tailoring block. Julian does so and Garak takes out his supplies. His fingers brush at Julian’s wrists chastely when he takes the seams in, and Garak feels proud of his work. The suit had been so finely fitted that it seemed to a tailor’s eye to stake a claim on the wearer, that someone had known his body intimately enough to tailor a garment specifically to his needs, and had done so with great effort and care. It was more effort, he realized, than he had ever put into a garment before. Julian’s smile was dazzling. 

“I swear, you always make me look stunning!” Julian gushes.

“I’m just glad you like it my dear doctor.”

“I do, Garak, I mean it.” Julian says sincerely and with conviction, as if he owed Garak some amount of sincerity and was making up for it in pieces. 

Garak smiles a thin-lipped smile. “How much do I owe you?”

“Consider it a gift.”

Bashir flummoxes. “Nonsense, you worked hard and I should pay you for it.”

“I insist.” He says gently, no real urgency to it.

“Well I insist on paying you for it.”

“It is simply a pleasure to see you out of that uniform for once.” he says chidingly.

Bashir rolls his eyes. “Oh, very well, but I will pay you back for this somehow.”

“Oh I have no doubt you will.” Garak says, eyes glinting with mischief. That earns him another genuine smile. 

“I have to go, my lunch break is almost over.” Julian says, turning to leave.

“Doctor,” he calls. Julian turns around confused. “Don’t leave your uniform here, or I might be tempted to change it.”

Julian laughs, and picks up his uniform to get changed back. Garak hands him a bag to put his suit in and he walks off with a spring in his step.

Garak puts his listening device in his ear near the end of Bashir’s shift and goes to Quark’s bar. Dave is already there, at a table in the back looking around suspiciously. Bashir walks in looking like a million bucks. He spots Dave, and he spots Garak too. He gives him a little wave and then goes over to Dave. Garak can hear them greet each other. “You look gorgeous.” Dave says, and he sounds like he means it.

“Oh, this old thing?” Julian jokes. Dave laughs right on cue.

Julian holds out his hand and Dave takes it, and he’s up on his feet walking with Julian to the bar. “We have a reservation for a holosuite.” Dave says in his Australian accent.

Quark gives them the holoprogram and they shuffle awkwardly up the spiral staircase. When the holoprogram starts, Garak can hear the crashing of waves onto crystal-white sand. Steel drums break through the sound of wind and Julian is laughing at some joke. Suddenly he feels very aloof here, eavesdropping on his friend’s date. 

The holoprogram is of a fine glass table for two on the beach, with rose petals and music and drinks and oysters. They’re re-enacting a book Julian’s never read. “Can we turn the safeties off?” Dave asks, and Garak’s about to bolt up there when he says “I’d like to catch a tan.”

“You know,” the doctor admonishes, “UV rays can cause quite uncomfortable skin cancer. Computer, safety off.”

“I once dated a doctor. He mentioned meeting you, actually.”

“Oh? I’m quite fond of my colleagues.”

Dave’s eyes darken as Julian goes to take a sip of wine and suddenly Garak has overridden the lock and pushed through the doors. In his surprise, Julian spills wine down the front of his new white shirt. He looks very upset.

“Garak, look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined my new suit.”

“It’s stain resistant. Look out!” Dave pulls a gun from under the table. Julian has enough warning to move out of the way when he fires, and he takes Dave’s surprise to wrestle him to the ground and knock the gun from his hands. 

“Why are you trying to kill me?” Julian says angrily.

“Because you didn’t stick up for me! When you were called as a witness to my hearing, you didn’t show up!”

“What are you talking about?” he says gruffly. “I only met you three days ago!”

“I’m Doctor Brandon frederick. Does that ring a bell?”

Before he can answer, Odo comes into the room and shouts “What’s going on here?!”

Julian looks peeved. “He tried to kill me!” 

“Computer, end program.” Garak says, not unhelpfully. The gun disappears. Odo takes “Dave” to a holding cell. 

Julian wipes at his clothes, although there’s no longer sand sticking to them. “You saved my life.” Julian says to Garak, breathing hard.

“Well I couldn’t let you bleed all over that fantastic suit now could I?” 

Julian laughs, it starts small and then gets louder and lasts a while. “Oh Garak,” Julian says, gasping for air. Garak braces himself for the words he knows will follow. “I could almost kiss you.” Julian says, shaking his head fondly.

“Well. Let’s put this whole mess behind us, shall we?” he says, gesturing to the arch.

After the truth gets out about Julian’s augment scandal, Garak thinks he could use a bit of cheering up, so he sets up a prank on Quark, in full view of the seat he’s picked for them to eat dinner together. 

Quark screams in terror as he opens his crate of beetles to find them shifting in crazy colors, some strange liquid pooling out of their mouths. “My beetlesnuff!” he cries. Julian looks at Garak incredulously.

“Did you replace Quark’s beetles with my test subjects I had in stasis?” 

Garak smiles. “Oh, Someone must’ve.”

He chuckles. “Oh. Garak, you’re brilliant. I could kiss you.”

Garak looks at him in a way that says “Then do it” But Julian isn’t looking at him, he’s looking at quark, and slapping his knee. So Garak’s gaze shifts to a fond one and he enjoys the fruits of his labor.

They’re back at the replimat. Their usual table was left vacant as everyone seems to know to expect them there. They’re arguing about Shakespeare again.

“I know Romeo and Juliet are foolish lovers, that’s the point!” Julian says. He’s working up an attractive flush in his face as the argument’s getting heated.

“Yet human works I’ve read seem to treat it as a template for love stories.”

“I haven't given you any romance books Garak, and subplots are not representative of the quality of main plots.”

“Ah and there’s the problem. Humans have whole books dedicated to love. Why, not a single cardassi book is not dedicated to the state.”

Julian smiles sardonically. “Really? Not a single one?”

Garak nods his head with a smug smile.

Julian stands up from the table. “You are so– infuriating! I could just–”

“Kiss me?” Garak finishes for him. Julian looks caught off guard. “Then why don’t you?”

Julian crosses over to his side, grabs Garak by his shirt collar, and pulls him up. He stalks off and Garak follows him, and when they turn the corner Julian is on him, kissing him roughly as if he’ll never be able to again. Between kisses Garak says “We should– ah– go somewhere– else.” Julian nips at Garak’s aural ridge. “My thoughts exactly.” Then he runs his hand down Garak’s arm and links fingers with him in a way that makes his nostrils flare and his neck ridges darken. Julian pulls Garak along to his own quarters and they move past Kukalaka and into the bedroom where Garak realizes that Julian had been preparing for this with the warmer temperature in the room, that he had been wanting this perhaps as long as he had wanted Julian. They’re necking on the bed, which feels absolutely exquisite to Garak, but Julian keeps breaking away to talk. 

“I never let myself want this,” he says, “Because I knew I couldn’t lie to you. And if we saw each other every day, came together in this way, then you would know.” He resumes his ministrations and after Garak doesn’t reply he adds, “Or worse you wouldn’t know. And I would want you to know.” 

Garak just holds his hand tightly and doesn’t let go. He doesn’t tell Julian how privileged he feels to know anything about him at all. He doesn’t voice how impressed he was with Julian’s ability to keep up the lie. He doesn’t admit that he’s wanted this since that first day in the replimat. He just enjoys it, and that’s the most selfish thing he’s ever done.

[aliensunflower-fics]

How to Exploit Kindness [A New Kind of Lila Salt Prompt]

[ Ive seen Lila and Class salt that goes a lot of different ways. In some Lilas a sad lonely girl who will do anything for friends and the class fall for her lies through a mixture of manipulation and Lila’s genuine sad lonely but real persona. In others Lila is insane and the class get basically sucked into her cult. And in others still, Lila slowly breaks the class down by preying on there insecurities, hidden jealousies ect. There are the versions where Lila just bribes the class with connections and the versions where Lila frames Marinette until no one believes her. But I wanted to write a new idea for people to use, one that I feel is a bit more realistic. One where Marinette’s classmates are more their more authentic kind selves but still get slowly pulled into Lila’s web and where Lila is just a bit more intelligent. ]

[ As usual with all my prompts feel free to borrow the idea to write for your own thing salt, sugar, cuteness angst ect just be sure to credit me for the idea so I can read it. ]

Lila was furious! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! She was supposed to be everyone's friend! She was supposed to finally get a cute perfect boyfriend who would cherish her like she deserved! She was supposed to be HAPPY! But no, the pathetic beetle Ladybug and that goody two shoes Marinette kept ruining everything!

No… No that wasn’t quite true. As much as she wanted to blame her problems on those two it wasn’t entirely their faults. Honestly Lila wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Her lies had been working at first, they had gotten her praise and compliments and adoration and friendship! But now? Now they were all ignoring her, unimpressed by her celeb lies! She could not understand it! At first she’d been sure it was Marinette or Ladybug maybe even Adrien had turned on her! But when she’d probed for information she’d learned that none of them had blown the whistle. So what was it! Tomorrow… Tomorrow she will find out one way or another. She needed to get them back under her thumb somehow.

 It was Chloe who gave Lila her answers. Chloe was the reason none of her classmates cared about her stories! Chloe was the idiot mayor's brat. And what a brat she was constantly wiggling her way into her mothers fashion shoots or had celebrities over at the hotel. Of course Lila’s classmates didn’t care about Lila’s celebrity connections because Chloe was always name dropping just as many people as herself. The only difference was Lila used fake modesty and shyness that made her ‘friends’ view her lies in less of a gloating light than Chloe’s haughty claims of celebrity meetings.

It was a damn shame, celebrity lies were her bread and butter, they were exciting got people to think you were important and they were hard to prove or disprove allowing Lila to easily get around the messy little detail of ‘proof’ if someone asked for pictures all she could say was that her mom didn't let her take any because she didn't want her precious daughter being targeted by crazy fans. And if someone asked her to use her celebrity connections? Well she could just turn on the water works and cry about them just being her friend for her connections. Thus her prey would be forced to be her ‘friend’ , always listening to her and doing things for her, unable to ask for anything in return. Then when her mother announced their next move Lila would tearfully say goodbye and leave all her suckers behind. But without the sway of her celebrity lies her system broke down. That was the problem with picking the school full of rich talented idiots she supposed.

Well with Chloe ruining her system she’d need a new one. Scrolling through her classmates' social media for a clue she sneered at their overly cheerful and cutesy posts. Always encouraging one another and posting encouraging puff pieces about this or that. Always acting like they were so nice. As Lila scrolled over a charity fundraiser event that Alya had retweeted from Milene a sudden thought crossed her mind. Her classmates were very ‘nice’ and annoyingly so. They were always butting into each other's business, always being SO concerned, always organizing events to help each other and appreciate each other and going to charity events.

In fact now that she thought about it the stories that had intrigued her ‘friends’ always had some sort of charity garbage attached. Saving Jagged’s kitten or raising money for some cause or other that always got her heaps of praise. Sure saying Clara whatshername stole her dance moves got attention but not in the same way saying she raised money for some green project. Was it really that simple? Sure her classmates all loved Marinette for her extreme generosity and kindness but was it REALLY that simple? She needed to check.

 It was actually that easy. One simple little lie about how she pulled a blind old man out of danger when he was nearly run over and suddenly the class was bathing her in praise. And the ‘fact’ that the whole very real thing made her miss first period and sprain her ankle? Well that was just the cherry on top. Suddenly Max was offering her a copy of his notes and everyone was back to caring for her like she was a princess. The fact that Marinette looked like she was seething only for sweet naive Adrien to keep her mouth shut was just so perfect. She’d found her golden ticket. Her classmates were truly ‘good kind people’ and nothing could be exploited quite like kindness.

With this knowledge Lila would easily be able to destroy Marinette, sure she wouldn’t be able to do it quickly but slowly she would replace her, with every good deed she made up with every act of false modesty she would build a reputation greater than Marinette’s she would replace her and become there new ‘everyday ladybug’ and the best part was she wouldn’t have to say ANYTHING against Marinette. Not. A. Thing. No sweet righteous Marinette would eventually snap, sadly for her it would probably be too late with how much control Adrien had over her, so when it happened Marinette would look like the jealous crazy girl going after the girl that was kinder, sweeter, and better than herself. As for Adrien… Well she had a hard time believing it at first but he really was an idiot with a pretty face as long as she was careful as she built her new reputation he would genuinely believe that she was changing for the better and then he'd fall for her.

The best part was, her classmates were genuine. As she built her new good girl heart of gold persona they would genuinely come to love her, all the loyalty Marinette got to enjoy all the perks of being friends with such talented, kind, sweet people would become hers. Slowly no matter how Marinette struggled she would lose, eventually she’d have nothing left. Of course she’d need to be careful with her lies but that was easy. Bring the class to a charity here and there and tell them that she was the one who gave the idea for the charity to the actual organizer but didn't want any credit because she was just that kind and humble. If they tried to make her do actual work then she’d have a sudden accident that would require she sit down.

And then once she’d done more photoshoots with Adrien for Gabriel she’d ‘convince’ the man that a charity would make him look good and boost sales. She’d MAKE her lies true all while winning over her future father in law, and heck maybe she’d even pocket a little of the money, she could use a better wardrobe and the extra would be perfect to buy her ‘friends’ the occasional ice cream or presents. In between that she’d just lie about saving people or volunteering on weekends. Maybe even let it ‘slip’ how she was a temp hero for Ladybug . One of the sweetest parts was that between volunteering with Lila, there own activities and hanging out with Lila so she could ‘thank them for their hard work’ no one would be spending a second hanging out with sweet pink little Marinette, they'd abandon her without even realizing it because they’d be SO busy. Sadly this plan of hers would take a little more work then her others, but it would be worth it to become the queen bee of the class- NO the school! And when Marinette eventually slipped up and looked like the biggest jealous bully in the school. Well she’d have no choice but to leave the school with her tail in between her legs.

Victory was looking sweet and satisfying.

 [ And where it goes from here is up to you. Lila can win, she can slowly convince the class and school that she's a model citizen and an everyday hero. She can sneakily maneuver the class to not spend time with Marinette slowly separating the girl from her friends. In this way Alya and the rest of them don't become evil salty versions of themselves who overnight hate Marinette and love Lila, but rather they are good naive people who got slowly separated and tricked by someone who wants to use their genuine talents and skills to make herself look better. Adrien who is already shown to be naive and wants to believe the best in people, can fall into Lila’s trap and become genuinely convinced that his high road method really worked and ‘reformed’ Lila into a better person. OR Lila can fail, she can claim to be the wrong temporary hero for ladybug, or she can pick the wrong charity to lie about, or get exposed any number of ways and the class can realize with horror that because they are kind but flawed people who are perhaps too trusting and gullible that they got pulled away from Marinette through subtle manipulation and so they can be redeemed because instead of turning into outright bullies they stayed the same kind people they always were but just got genuinely tricked which is something that can actually happen in real life. You can go heavy salt where Marinette does eventually leave the school or class heartbroken that her kind friends have fallen prey to a bad person Marinette cant find a way to expose. Or you can go clever salt where Marinette figures out Lila’s plan and fights her from the inside slowly exposing the cracks in her facade. Or you can go sugar and redemption where maybe just maybe Lila actually LIKES being nice to people and having real friends who dont care about her fake celeb connections, maybe she honestly redeems herself and even makes amends with Marinette. You can do genuinely anything with this idea and I hope to see this generate some new less *and suddenly everyone is evil* content for those that like salt and angst. ]

[flowerwrites06]

utopic desire I — jjk

Plot: Under an elist system of Vampires, Jungkook is torn between his old values and the lowest ranked Vampire he begins to fall for.

Pairing(s): Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!OC

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Series

Genre: Supernatural/Vampires | Angst/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: discrimination, explicit smut, angst, coarse language.

Authors Note: this is a repost after my break since I’m not really going to convert this one to original fiction. So enjoy to those who missed it! I’m doing it in parts cause posting big posts on Tumblr sucks. 

“Glasses, five o’clock.” Yoongi muttered mostly under his breath but enough for the group to hear before taking a small sip of his reddened whiskey.

Belle felt a light rumble in her belly at his words, turning her head a little to see the male sitting quietly at the bar counter. Blue sweater with some light wash jeans, thin rimmed glasses and slightly long messy locks hovering over his temples. The tiny pout on his bottom lip only added to what an adorable specimen he was. “Jeon?” She smirked.

Yoongi shrugged mimicking the little curl on her lips as his eyes flickered to the side to get another look of him. “Hangs around with the pure bloods a lot. Must be a favourite source.”

Jungkook was the quietest whenever Belle noticed him in the pure blood crowds and with the way he held himself, it didn’t seem like he was much of a power in the group. One of the vampires who she knew was called Vira always clung to him which she could only assume meant he must have been her human.

“Could be fun annoying the shit out of Vira.” Belle mused.

“Or dangerous.” Jimin spoke up, finger tracing the brim of his glass with the drink barely sipped on. “Pure bloods don’t like us meddling.”

“They don’t like it when I meddle.” She corrected.

Pure bloods had no issue with other pure blood vampires. Even Taehyung, they tolerated despite their dated views on humans. With her though, a spawn of an original vampire and a human was downright blasphemy in their eyes. Belle still wondered to this day why Jimin, Yoongi or even Kiku thought about including her into their group, tainting their name in the academy.

Yoongi nudged Jimin’s arm harshly. “For a Park, you’re a real buzzkill, you know that?”

Jimin rolled his eyes in response, raking through his blue hair before murmuring a small apology towards Belle.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

“What’re you willing to give me when I get him?” Belle leaned in, elbows rested on the surface.

A smirk plastered across the man’s lips. “If you get him to sleep with you, I’ll give you my Lamborghini.”

Belle scoffed. “Which one?”

“The Centenario.”

“Nah—I want the Veneno.”

“If you were less hot maybe but everyone wants you so…the Centenario.”

“Oh come on—”

“If it helps I’m pretty sure Yoongi came on one of the Veneno seats one time.” Kiku spoke gesturing a toothpick towards Yoongi who stammered a little.

Belle grimaced lightly. “Fine, the Centenario.”

“That’s only cause someone decided for the first time they weren’t going to swallow.”

“You literally begged me to let you come all over my face.” Kiku parted her lips in slight offense while Yoongi shifted in his seat.

“Okay now I’m really going to go.” Belle chuckled climbing off the stool and fixing her deep red, ruche dress fitted to her curves before walking to the bar counter.

Jungkook still had his eyes fixated on his drink taking one sip almost every hour while he was somehow deep in thought. Though as he noticed a figure walking his way, his head shot meeting two beetle orbs with shining ruby flecks scattered across. It glimmered in the night light resembling a dark faery of some sort though he knew she was no faery.

“Do you always sit around alone in the college bars?��� Belle asked sitting down on the stool next to him, ignoring how her dress rode up her thighs when she did.

Gaze flickered down to the heavily exposed skin, body exuding a thick, warm scent flooding his nostrils and filling his lungs. Jungkook felt his head spin from the sweetness but found himself taking more in anyway. “I don’t like a whole lot of company.” He mumbled.

“Do I count as a whole lot of company?”

“Not really.”

Belle smiled, that tiny spark of accomplishment lingering in the pit of her belly but she knew not to get too excited. “I don’t like much company either.”

“You seem to have a few friends.”

“And I love them.” She nodded. “But I also love...more intimate company.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched briefly as he gripped onto the glass a little tightly. He watched her move forward with her arms folded under her chest, making them pop beautifully in the dim lighting. “What kind of intimate company?”

“Just two people. Me and them. Taking a walk, going to eat, having sex…” Belle let a small moment of silence linger between the two people before shrugging. “Intimate moments where it’s only between the two of you.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a little tingle. How it was easy to just fall into her careful words and drown in her whole aura. “Do you get to do it a lot?”

The corner of her lips curled up a little. “I haven’t for a while.”

“That’s not good.” The scent grew thicker around him again and Jungkook sought it as a good sign enough to shift closer. A layer of ice melting between them with a new brewing heat.

She hummed sadly.

“How much did he bet?”

Belle peered up at him curiously, tilting her head. It didn’t really matter whether Jungkook knew it was a bet or not at this point. She already had him close enough. “A Lamborghini Centenario.” She smiled.

Jungkook raised a brow tempted to glance over at her group but he stopped himself. Not that it was too difficult when he started unintentionally counting the little ruby flecks in her eyes. “High price for little old me.” His voice descended into a darker register as he leaned closer, feeling a strange heat radiate from her skin. “You sure you want to take it?”

“Depends…how little are you?” Belle’s eyes flickered down his body momentarily.

He chuckled, licking the inside of his cheek as he glanced down at his drink. Now more than ever in this entire night, Jungkook lost full interest of filling himself up with alcohol that won’t even intoxicate him. He needed something sweeter. “Well I can’t confirm anything to you here.”

-

Hunger never tugged any stronger than a bad cramp with Belle. She found decent satisfaction in food but it was almost like strong, uncontrollable cravings when her body wanted to feed properly. A type of craving that needed to be satisfied for her own health and wellbeing. While Belle could take it more than any other vampire, refusing to take blood could still kill her just as easily.

Jungkook’s hunger was a basic need. His hunger panged and pulled at his gut, spread exhaustion through his limbs, head spinning uncomfortably. The last time he fed was on one of the history students in his group project. It was consensual but he couldn’t take much before the boy fainted. There was something different pumping through Belle’s veins, radiating with so much warmth and smelling so sweet that he made him a little dizzy.

Public bathrooms were not an ideal place for a feed but the dark purple walls and black marble floors allowed for less traces and easy clean ups. Door clicked as it locked. All Belle did was turn around before her whole body was engulfed with another, lips locked with his as he pinned her against the door. It was icy at first until it started meshing in with her own warmth allowing her to melt into it.

Somewhere deep in the thick lake of his thirst, Jungkook knew he should stop and go back to the bar to prevent any issues. If anyone found out who he was with in the bathroom stalls, they would give him hell beyond belief. But the thought drowned as quickly as he grabbed onto her hips and moved them to the sink counter.

Jungkook whipped her around until she bent over the marble counter a little, a smile curling at her reddening smudged lips. Looking into the mirror Belle admired the way his forehead knitted when she felt her dress push up to her hips. He brushed away her long hair to expose her shoulder and the crook of her neck.

Leaning in, he pressed wet kisses along her shoulder while his hips harboring a mind of its own ground against her plump bottom. His gut gripped at whatever satisfaction he could get from her smell. That thickly sweet smell just calling out to him. How was it possible? She wasn’t supposed to smell this warm. He wasn’t supposed to feel this hungry tasting her skin.

Belle tilted her head to give him more room waiting for him to get as riled up as possible before she took her own feeding. His large palms exploring every inch of her body, reaching up to her breasts and kneading them to light squeeze before trailing down her hips again.

Tongue traced across one particular spot, soft and sensitive. Fingers gripped at the roots of her hair to expose more skin before his fangs bared, white shining in the light before it sunk in. His whole body trembled in glee. The burst of warmth trailing down his throat, tasting so fucking delicious on his tongue that he kept taking in more. Jungkook moaned against her skin, one palm moving between her legs as he rubbed himself on her curve.

Her first instinct was to protest when Belle felt an intrusion on her skin. She held onto the edge of the counter so tightly that one of her nails could have cracked off. Except the words died on her tongue and the only sounds forming out of her were whimpers…pleased whimpers. The warmth that exploded through her was so thrilling, so intoxicating that her knees began to wobble.

Jungkook could feel himself getting full right to the very limit but he still took more. A slight tinge of concern sparked inside him. He was taking too much. Forcefully he pulled away and pressed his tongue against the injury to heal it quickly before taking deep breaths like they had already done the deed. He usually was really good at holding back. What was wrong with him?

“You’re a fucking trickster.” Belle breathed out with a light giggle. She really should be mad but her body felt far too satisfied to be angry. Though she still felt something stiff rubbing against her. With a cheeky smile, she swayed her hips against his causing the vampire to hiss and grab onto her.

“You wanted to do the same to me.” Jungkook spoke in a low growl, his eyes flashing back to his original red except it darkened in seconds with his ever growing lust.

“Except I can’t, can I?” Belle mumbled a little lazily, allowing him to dig his nails as much as he wanted into her skin but she still wasn’t going to stay put.

Jungkook buried his fingers through her hair and gently pulled her back so he pressed right against his torso. “You can’t tell anyone about this…” He whispered in her ear, lips brushing against her soft earlobe. “And you’ll still get your Lamborghini.”

Belle had it coming. The secret promise. Every pure blood or turned vampire asked her the same thing right when their moment of clarity passed through them after a night of heated movements and sinful noises.

‘ Don’t tell anyone I touched you. ’

‘ No one can know we were together. ’

She was never allowed to speak a word but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear them jabbering how the failed breedling begged for it with their other friends. “I promise.” She muttered like a familiar song.

Jungkook searched her eyes for a moment, the ruby flecks losing their usual twinkle when she spoke those two small words. His expression softened, grip on her hair loosening before moving his hand down to fix her dress gently as if it could somehow cushion on a blow he didn’t know he caused. But it was there. He could feel the way her skin chilled slightly disallowing him to melt into her again.

Before he could truly understand what that feeling was, Belle shifted away from his hold a little, setting up her hair again in the mirror. Not a single confused twitch on her features.

Then why was he confused?

He was the one who asked to keep it a secret so that was it. It would be selfish to expect some kind of argument when there was no way around the matter.

“I’ll have to go first.” Belle broke through the momentary silence. “Yoongi won’t believe something happened if you went out before me.”

“Why not?”

Another grin tugged at her lips even though the flecks were still dull and unexcited. “I usually tire out the ones I’m with. They have to take a break or at least look really out of it afterwards.” Belle walked over to him and patted his cheek.

Jungkook scoffed lightly though a little relieved he caught the tiniest cheeky glint before she walked out of the bathroom.

-

Two mornings passed and it left the pure blood emptier than he wanted to admit. Jungkook opted to take this particular dawn to cage himself in the gym for a few hours before classes started rolling. It was the best time when the whole building was empty save for the security guards. Eventually when he tired himself out enough not to think about those ruby flecks again and have the smell of sweat instead of that sweet, warm aroma, he started preparing for the library.

Apparently Vira and a couple of others wanted to get some readings done and it was getting too sunny outside for their liking.

The academy library was vast filled with books ancient to modern adorning shelves so much taller than him he could barely see the top. Jungkook had a simple black long sleeves draped on him as he walked over to the corner table and found Vira with an empty seat to her.

Deep red lips curled up into wide grin as she patted the seat and the male didn’t really respond much before doing as she silently asked.

Jungkook never found a whole lot of interest in the conversations his group mumbled towards each other and simply opened his books to skim through readings like he thought they were supposed to do. Though even with their words tuned out a little, his eyes still flickered up to scan the shelves, a few of the tables with quiet students curling on themselves. Except one figure glowed so bright near a few tables forward.

Her hair was not as black as he imagined it was in the bar lighting. It was almost a chocolate brown, a little messy and wavy with a small clip loosely placing back on side of it. Lips in a lighter pink tinge while wearing lilac thin sleeve dress with small peach flowers scattered across from what he could catch. Jungkooks’ lips twitched a little seeing her smile so easily with such a genuine aura when a blond haired girl next to her muttered something between them.

“Kook.”

He felt a harsh nudge on his arm causing him to shake back into reality and look over at Vira again. “What?”

“We saw you sneaking in with a certain someone back at the party.” One of the other pure blood vampires, Hoseok spoke with a wide smirk tugging at his lips. “The failed breedling.”

“I thought we called her a failed experiment.” Vira commented with a ghost of a smile over to Hoseok who chuckled in response. “Some kind of deformed rat in the lab.”

Jungkook curled his fingers against the table trying to kill the words that were desperately attempting to escape through him. “She’s definitely not deformed. I mean…we’ve seen Doyoung’s nose.”

A turned vampire, Doyoung shot a glare at the male while the rest of the group laughed in full agreement though quiet enough not to echo through the room.

Hoseok then turned back to Jungkook with his eyes flashing red. “How non-deformed is she exactly?”

Nails dug deep into his palm until the skin almost ripped. Jungkook was glad he had a good ability to hide his abilities otherwise his eyes would have been permanently red from anger. “She’s…kinda perfect physically. I fed from her.” You fucking dumbass.

“You did?” Vira didn’t care to hide her grimace, hand pressing to her chest. “God, aren’t you sick?”

“It tasted good.”

“Really?” Hoseok’s eyes faded into red for longer than Jungkook was comfortable with. That same faint smirk appearing back on his lips. “How good?”

Jungkook wanted to look back at Belle. As if there was this intense pull at his belly wanting to watch her smile so genuinely again and tune this conversation out again. “Better than a human.”

“Fuck, seriously?” Doyoung’s eyes widened so much his eyes could have popped out if he wasn’t careful.

“Maybe we should tell our original masters to take in more humans to breed.” Hoseok nodded down at his open and ignored book rested there for show.

Jungkook actively ignored the comment and gathered a bit more confidence to look over at Belle’s table again. His stomach jumped to his throat when he noticed those dark orbs meet his own. He held onto it, expression softening to admire how beautifully they sparkled, how her chest rose and fell. The way her lips curled up before she leaned into whisper something in her friend’s ear.

Vira scoffed without any care for volume. “They’d rather feed on animals than do that. One abomination is enough.” Every word was harsh and cut, not a single ounce of regret in what was spewing out of her mouth.

He heard the words but paid no mind to them when Belle stood up from the chair, giving him another smile before walking over to the other end of the library where the last, abandoned aisle was.

“If you ask me then they should’ve killed her along with her dirty parents.” Vira shrugged looking down at her long deep violet nails.

“I need to find a book.” Jungkook got up from his chair and walked through the library on the other side of the shelves away from the tables. He didn’t share a single glance to Vira when she called his name.

It was almost like a pull. Dragging him across the floor like a sorry but happy puppet, running to the one who controlled his strings. She shouldn’t be controlling his strings. But Jungkook still let her.

Finally he reached the last aisle, pausing in his tracks for a moment when he saw Belle leaning back against the wall shelf with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What happened to not telling anyone?” Belle asked with a faint smirk plastered on her lips.

Jungkook walked to stand right in front of the girl, the morning sun brightly shining through the window but thankfully high enough not to beam on the floor. “Who says anyone’s going to know?”

The cute smirk stretched into a mischievous smile. “You owe me a little.”

“How’s that?”

“You fed from me.” Granted, Belle strangely enjoyed the feeling far more than she would like to admit. “Yet I haven’t gotten anything from you.”

“You don’t think it’s a little selfish?”

Without a reply, she hooked her fingers on the frilly hem of her dress, pulling it up enough for him to see those thick thighs again. “Depends on how badly you don’t want to give me anything.” Belle couldn’t help but dive deep into her gaze when looking at the male. Thin black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to show off the veins popping from his arms after his morning workout, long tresses naturally curled and touching his brows. She could just imagine those fingers gripping at her skin.

Gaze darkened as he watched her plump, pink painted lips curl up into a smile while the rubies in her eyes disappeared almost completely turning into a blackened red. “Do you enjoy making a scene?” His voice grumbled, stepping closer until once again he was met with that beautiful heat radiating from her.

“It’s not a scene if no ones’ looking.” Belle murmured, breath hitting his lips almost magnetizing him to dip his head down further. “Besides—I already know your little quiet shy boy is just a façade now. Don’t expect me not to have a little fun with it.”

Hand grabbed onto her hips like his life depended on it, pads of his finger squeezing her until he heard a light gasp. “I’m not like your other sweet humans that you tire out, darling.”

“Well I wouldn’t know much from experience, would I?” Belle tilted her head, her nerves awakening with the way his fingers deliciously dug through her clothes into her skin almost forming permanent dimples.

Jungkook walked forward letting her stumble back so she rested further against the last shelf of books. Her scent filling her nostrils again and he sniffed in letting it flood his lungs and thicken right up to his throat. His hands latched off her hip and trailed down her short dress, rough fingers tracing her soft thigh. Sliding up thin clothing between her legs, his hands paused where he felt heat. Wet heat soaking through a thin soft fabric, almost soggy when he pressed his fingers against it.

Belle let out a shaky breath, gently caressing his rising chest. As the male pressed harder she could feel her erect nub throbbing out for him. The light spark of pleasure caused her to close her eyes. What a mistake that was. Almost instantly the pressure on her panties stopped and another hand grabbed onto her chin.

“Look at me.” Jungkook growled under his breath. Eyes flashed red when their gazes met again causing Belle to smile albeit a little shakily.

A soft hum emitting in her throat, Belle felt his rough fingers sneak into her panties. Rubbing straight against her nub jolting sparks of pleasure through her veins. It was too tempting to close her eyes and fully relish into the sensations but she kept her gaze on him. His eyes faded into an extremely deep crimson.

Fingers caressed circles on her delicate clit before sliding down her dripping slit. Spreading her nether lips, he slowly pushed in his middle digit, curling up deeper as he hungrily watched Belle part her mouth and throw her head back against the shelf. Jungkook dipped in latching his lips onto her jugular to get more of her taste. So warm. So fucking sweet. He tried to muffle out the groan against her skin. Jungkook pulled his finger out and slid back up to her clit, increasing his pace into a mild assault of pleasure.

Belle brushed through his slightly cold hair, giggling lightly as he gently grazed his teeth on the side of her neck before kissing her jawline. She tried soften her moans with her trembling breaths but tiny noises of desperation still escaped. The rush tightened in her lower belly. Warmer. Hotter. Her hips jerked against his movements, almost standing on her tiptoes.

Then her ears pricked for a moment. Footsteps echoing a little closer than normal.

“Someones’ coming.” Belle whispered in a shaky tone, trying to push Jungkooks’ hand out of her panties but he didn’t budge.

“I thought you liked making a scene, baby.” He swirled his finger around her clit in a tantalizing pace again forcing her orgasm to move to a distance again.

“Jungkook—”

As the footsteps grew closer, Jungkook whipped her around so she faced the shelf. The librarian appeared at the aisle giving them a quick glance as Belle pretended to pick up a book.

It only took a few minutes of her gazing around, looking for a book rather than watching them directly but it thickened the frustration between the couple. Belle cupped her core gently trying to gain more friction to keep her pleasure driving closer though it was hard not to move too fast.

Once the librarian disappeared, Jungkook dipped his hand back without a single moment of hesitation, rubbing up and down her slit to spread her arousal before torturing her clit again. Head buried in her shoulder he viciously rubbed her bundle of nerves as she held onto the shelves for dear life while the book she held dropped to the ground.

Belle leaned her forehead against the shelf feeling the tightness in her lower belly. Calling out to her and yearning for more of his touch. Fingers wrapped around his forearm as it moved at a lightning pace. “J-Ju—” Heat surged through her body spreading across her limbs, knees shaking causing to almost stumble onto the floor but Jungkook kept her steady. She let out a clearer whimper as he continued to drawl out her orgasm, rubbing at her sensitive nub at a tantalizing pace.

Jungkook pressed roughly against her clit causing Belle to whine and giggle breathlessly. He couldn’t help but grin at the sweet sound, relishing in the aroma of lust mixing in with her natural scent. He turned her around more gently, taking his fingers into his mouth and suckling off her delicious release. “Is that good enough?” He brushed and fixed the light tresses hovering over the girl’s face.

She grinned brushing down the creases in her dress. “Much better.” Belle reached out and absentmindedly caressed the neckline of his shirt with a softer expression across her features, padding closer until her forehead was almost touching his chin. She had a light hum under her breath as she nudged her nose against his jawline.

“What’re you doing?” Jungkook asked, immediately regretting his words when he felt her comforting touch leave him making him feel empty.

Belle stammered stepping back a little and avoiding his gaze. He won’t care for you. “Nothing.” She mumbled quickly picking up the book from the floor, placing it back on the shelf. This was all you were meant for. “Sorry.” Was the final word uttered before she rushed to disappear out of the aisle.

Jungkook took a deep breath to call her back but the words died on his tongue. He had a feeling why she did it. That needy feeling to just cuddle into a warm body after coming down from a high. The little want to be taken care of. The knowledge of it all only caused a squeeze in his chest. I’m sorry.

NEXT PART >>

[hyperfocusthusly]

So I wrote a thing, inspired by this post from @booksfoxesandcoffee

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why am I here?”

Steve looks up from the wedding programme he’s studying and across to Billy, who is sulking in the afternoon sun.

“Because I need something to keep me sane through this”

“All they’ve done all day is stare”

“That’s because you’re supposed to do up your buttons at a wedding”

Billy snorts and fiddles with the open collar of his dress shirt, “it’s called fashion Harrington, I wouldn’t expect you to understand”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns, abruptly facing a woman in a long, pale blue dress. She is holding a baby, dressed in a tiny flowered dress and sucking on, what appeared to be, a corsage.

He thinks briefly that babies probably shouldn’t eat flowers, what do babies eat? Should she have a toy or something, maybe -

“Steve?” He snaps back to the woman in front of him, an aunt perhaps, or a cousin?

“Would you mind watching Sophie while we have our pictures done?”

Before he has even opened his mouth there is a small child in his arms, a brief thanks, and then she is gone. He is aware of Billy appearing behind him, he reaches out and tickles her under then chin. Sophie laughs and claps her little hands together, reaching out but Billy pulls his hand away.

“She’s not going to bite you”

“I’ve known babies who bite”

Steve sighs and settles into a gentle sway, Sophie seemingly content to suck on the bunch of fake flowers in her hand. He is becoming increasingly aware of a need to use the bathroom and looks out to the pictures, they are swapping around, probably taking far more than really necessary. He sways a little faster, trying to take his mind off it. This, however, seems to upset Sophie, she makes a small squawk and grabs up at his face, pinching his lips. It was no use, he was going to have to go.

“Hey Billy, I have to go to the toilet, can you just hold her for a second?”

He hands Sophie to Billy, who looks vaguely like Steve has just handed him a ticking bomb and vanishes towards the stately home behind him.

Steve wiggles his way back out through the milling relatives, dodging small talk and polite conversation because he is absolutely sure that Billy would not put a baby in a plant pot and leave it to be raised by the beetles

He comes back out into the courtyard, but there is no sign of Billy or Sophie. He frowns a little and glances at the plant pots, he wouldn’t

“They went over to the grass, the flashes were making her fuss”, another unknown relative, Steve mumbled a thanks and disappeared down the steps, glancing around for any sight of them

There they were, Billy was sat on the grass leaning against the stone wall, gently bouncing the small girl on his knees. Steve crossed the grass as quietly as possible, heart melting as he watched her small hands grasping Billy’s necklace and pulling at his hair.

“Ow, no, stop that” Billy halfheartedly batted her hands away, a pursed frown gently giving way to a fond smile.

Steve plopped down beside them and booped Sophie’s nose, “I knew you loved babies really”

“Shut your mouth”

[tintentrinkerin]

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

[the-fiction-witch]

Books

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER  RATING: FUNNY + FLIRTY

I walked down the half broken, foul smelling new york streets. Hearing my heels clacking in the pavement as I walked, the swishing of my petticoats and my dress, the small sun trying to peek through the thick grey clouds. I put my sunglasses in my handbag as I arrived at the tall buildings I saw the beaten up beetle parked in the street and the small handful of parking tickets it had under the wiper blade so I picked them up and sighed turning to look down into the ever stretching darkness of the stairwell. I stepped down trying not to touch the handrail to the first level of little doors with some lights and then down the second stairwell into the dark nothing's, it smells like shit down here. 

I got to the door trying to not touch the gross walls tapping in the door as hard as I could hearing the metal echo through the basement.

The door opened tenderly and careful a first as if trying to peak before it opened fully revealing a barefoot, Benny watts. Stood in his black dirty jeans where he'd clearly wiped his hands down his legs for some reason, his black t shirt with his usual chains, his hand fixing his hair out of his eye with a small smile on his lips 

"Hey you"

"Hey" I smiled briefly stepping inside, as soon as my foot crossed into his apartment he put his hand on my waist and gave my cheek a kiss "move your car" I told him pushing the tickets into his chest he took them and I headed inside slipping my Jacket off and laying it over the chair 

"I'll move it in a bit" he says "coffee?"

"Tea" I Answered "extra milk t-"

"Extra milk two sugars I know" he laughs going over to his kitchen setting the tickets down in a forming pile on his kitchen counter 

"You should pay them"

"I should do a lot of things"

"Pay your parking tickets Benny"

"Suck my dick y/n" he says leaning against the counter looking at me crossing his arms over his chest "we both don't do what the other wants us to"

"You make me suck your dick I'll bite your cock off" I sighed sitting at the table 

"I know, I still have the bite mark from Last time" he sighed bringing the cups over sitting across from me with his coffee instantly I took my little hanki from my handbag and cleaned the top of the cup seeing the white cotton turn grey 

"What is it Benny? What did you summon me to the slums of new york for?"

"Oohh sorry, next time should I request an audience at mi lady's palace?" 

"What do you want Benny before I pour this tea down your pants"

"I need your help"

"... Hu. Never thought I'd hear you say that but go on"

"I need your help with something that only you can help me with"

"Right…"

"I wanna write a book" 

"A book?"

"Yes"

"What kinda of book?"

"One with... words?"

"No shit. Fictional or non fictional?"

"What's the difference?"

"Fictional is a story, non fictional is real life."

"Oh, non fiction"

"Okay, do you have a plot structure"

"A who what?"

"What's the plan for the book Benny?"

"I shall write it. And then I shall publish it." 

"Did you wanna edit it somewhere in the middle there?" I laughed

"Eh, you can do that" 

"Okay… so lemme guess this is a book about you? Or about chess?"

"Little I'd both"

"Who's publishing it?"

"Me?"

"Ohh so you have four thousand dollars laying around do you?" 

"What!"

"If you wanna self publish Benny, the basic level is four thousand dollars and that will get you local distribution if your lucky which is about five states out if that." 

".... Uuuughh, I'll publish through a publisher? Your publisher?"

"Eleanor doesn't take non fiction"

"Then she has to know someone who does? Right?'

"She does but then have to pay for meetings which cost roughly fifty bucks per ten minutes, and you have to get an approved manuscript before they'll even meet you, and even though a publisher for international you’re taking nine to ten thousand. Dollars."

"Uuuuuuughhh, wait. It's a chess book so I could get funding for it from the chess federation"

"Maybe, but then they are going to need to approve it first, and the send to a publisher willing to carry it, and then designing, and editing and printing and stocking which could take over five years" 

"Five years!"

"Yep. The novel world is a slow one Benny" I said "besides that's all publishing stuff, you can worry about that when you have a manuscript"

"A what now?"

"Manuscript is like the… actual book pages and all the words that will be on them"

"Ohh, well that shouldn't be too long, bang it out over a long weekend or something"

"You think you can write a book manuscript over a long weekend? Three days?"

"Yes"

".... Okay, so you wanna write a book? Which for non fiction about chess really a good level would be five or six hundred pages minimum, your going to get it written, edited, and ready to send to the chess federation for approval by Monday morning, even though they might reject it or just plain not fund it, you'll be already one thousand dollars in the red, before you add shipping, handling, copywriting, paying me for editing because I ain't doing that shit for free and as it's currently four pm on a Saturday afternoon and you haven't even writen a word yet"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"How long did it take you to write your book?"

"Six years, in and off with a full time job and without an editor"

"I'm fucked aren't I?'

"Not fucked Benny. Overambitious" I laughed "do you have a title?"

"No."

"Do you have a synopsis?"

"No."

"Do you have a typewriter?"

"I was going to write it by hand?"

"With your handwriting?"

"What's wrong with my handwriting?"

"Benny, it looks like a spider learnt cursive and then got drunk"

"I don't own a typewriter. May I borrow yours?"

"No. Buy one"

"There like sixty dollars!"

"I will buy you a pre-owned typewriter"

"Aww thank you sugar"

"How are you intending to pay me for being your editor?"

"... Royalties?"

"Awww Benny darling, if you sell your book for a dollar each you'll be lucky to make 25 cents per book in royalties, less if you go though a publisher, and even less if it's being funded by the federation… you'll maybe get about six pennies if your lucky" I explain 

"Then how the hell do you afford your car? Your house? Your dresses?"

"I sell alot of books Benny"

"I'll give you three pennies if my six pennies royalties?"

"Of your not yet existing book? So I'm just meant to wait and see if I get paid?"

"I'll bake you a cake?"

"You can't cook Benny"

"... I will eat you out?"

"No deal"

"I promise you half of all royalties, editor credit and I'll fuck you as much as you want, now will you please just help me?"

"Fine. I'll be needing a deposit payment" I said 

"Alright, you know where the bedroom is I'll finish my coffee and be there in a sec" 

I sat on the leather chair looking at the handwritten chapter structure Benny had given me "Benny?"

"Yeah?" He asks slightly jumping where he had been sat for so long at his table with his notes and the old typewriter I got for him trying to figure out how he loaded paper in it 

"What is this word?" 

"What word?" He asks 

"The something with something"

"Which chapter?"

"Four?"

"The faults with defense" 

"That is how you write an s?" 

"Yes"

"... How do you not write an s right it's in your name?" 

"No it's not?"

"Yes it is"

"B. E. N. N. Y. No s there?"

"Watts?" 

"Ooohh yeah"

"You fool" 

"Also, does this have a E?"

"No."

"And how am I meant to write a chess book without the letter e? I sort of need it? Chess. Defensive. Queen. Benny."

"Antidisestablishmentarianism" 

"That's a word?"

'"yep"

"Can you use it in a sentence?"

"Screw you bitch I can spell antidisestablishmentarianism" 

"A.n.t.i.d.i.s.t?"

"Nope"

"Damn it" he sighed "but I need e how am I meant to write chess without an e?"

"Write an o and then draw a line in the middle?" 

"Fine" he said starting to type one key at a time "Openings… and… tactics… by… Benny… watts" he said but the typewriter had got to the end of the spool "y/n! Why won't it type!"

"Benny just… ughh come here you child" I sighed getting up going over and moving the spool back to the centre so he could write "there. You have to do that at the end of each line"

"Really?"

"Yep. Isn't writing fun" I smiled kissing his head 

I sat listening to the clicking and clacking of his typewriter keys, sounded like music to my ears in his quiet dark and cold apartment

"Fuck!" He yelled breaking me from my relaxation as he stopped

"What?" I asked

"How do I undo?" He sighed rubbing his eyes 

"You can't what happened Benny?" 

"I typed porn instead of pawn" he sighed resting his head in his hands

"You fool" I giggled "you wanna know how we fix mistakes Benny?" I giggled going over wrapping my arms around his neck 

"We we write the whole page?" 

"Nope. White out" I smiled handing him the shall bottle 

"Fuck! That smells like paint"

"Ehh pretty much is"

"Thank you y/n"

"Your welcome" I smiled giving his head s kiss "call me when chapter one is done I'm going for a shower" 

"Uuuuhhh… yeah I'll do that" he says not sounding confident 

"How close to finished are you with chapter one?"

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh… next week sound good?"

"And you could bang out a whole book in a weekend" I laughed sitting back on the chair 

"I said I'm sorry! I didn't know it was this hard" he says 

I sat the other side of the table with my lovely blue pen, my leg over my knee, smirking slightly at him as Benny sat on the other side his hands to his face watching me Intently, panic in his eyes everytime he saw me use the blue pen, which I was having to do alot. 

"Here" I said throwing it back to him now I was done "you should probably re write that's a little too much editing for white out watts"

"What's wrong with this?" He asks as he looked over the page 

"You used the wrong there"

"I hate you. Beyond words can express." 

[serendipitous-posts]

Sacrifice you for nothing

Tubbo and Ranboo get a history lesson

title from Ain’t No Crying by Derivakat

"Damn" Tubbo says, staring up at the ceiling. "That chandelier really is fighting you every step of the way, huh?"

"And it's winning" Ranboo adds.

Foolish, hanging from the ceiling as he fixes the corner piece, glares down at him. "It is not winning" he hisses "I won't let it win." That declaration would have been a lot more solid had he not squeaked as the chandelier rocked dangerously.

If that fell and broke he would actually lose it.

Tubbo has no mercy for him. "You must hate that chandelier right now" he mocks "must be your least favourite thing in the world."

 "Nah" Foolish grips a small chunk of gold carefully in his teeth to avoid breaking it "that would be cults" he mumbles. There's a brief bit of quiet below and then;

 "Oh yeah, I heard that the Eggpire wrecked your buildings or something."

 Chandelier finally fixed (for now) Foolish drops to the floor, a fall that would have shattered anyone elses ankles but just leaves him slightly winded. "Nah" he says "I've run into cults before; one's way worse than this one."

 "Worse?!" Ranboo exclaims "worse than the parasitic chicken embryo?!"

 "Far worse" Foolish confirms body language completely relaxed despite such a dark topic

 (but outside the seas begin to froth and bubbles, rapids forming and pushing and pulling, crashing against teeth sharp rocks and punching away at the cliffs surrounding it.)

 "they seem to keep popping up wherever I go. I-

 (hate them hates them with everything he is and everything he is supposed to be divine blood in his body but he can't save them can't protect everyone can't heal everything some things can't be reversed)

 "really don't like them. They suck."

(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry, I can take your broken pieces and stitch them back, back together and it won't be the same but it will be similar and that is all I can give you)

 (the totem in Ranboo's back pocket begins to burn)

 "I'll say" Tubbo agrees, then, with childlike curiosity and teenage macabre "which one would would you say is the worst?"

  Foolish falls still.

(the sea falls still. the totems stop burning.)

 (it is somehow worse)

 "Probably the one made for me" he says at last.

 The story goes like this; there's a village that prays to him daily. It's not that uncommon really; he's the God of the Ocean and the Undead. People pray to him for safe passage on the seas or to help them find a totem.

 But the people in this village are- to put it bluntly- really fucking annoying.

 It's not uncommon for people without totems to pray to him for hours on end, begging him to revive their loved ones, but these guys have turned it into an art form, any and all hours of the day, banging around in his head.

 And when words don't work, they turn to physical ways to show their devotion to their God. 

 Silly little mortals, trying to gain his favour with dead animals and trinkets, trying to gain his favour. He already gave them a way to cheat death, all they have to do is grab a totem. Why do they want another?

 They have all they need to survive. He painstakingly carved those totems. He will not give too much of himself.

 (lord foolish please my mother is gone i want her back lord foolish you can bring my husband back lord foolish fix this fix her i know you can)

 So he ignores the animal sacrifices and the pretty trinkets offered to him in exchange for reviving a daughter, a son, a wife, a husband. He cannot revive the long dead, he learned that a long time ago.

 The only real bearable one in the village is the child, and he doesn't even think the child knows what he is the God of, really, which is odd considering the inordinate amount of statues in the town. Whenever the child prays to Foolish, it's never about a dead loved one or the sea, it's always about what the child did that day. Foolish feels more like a diary than a God in those moments.

 And at least that's interesting

 (mister foolish i learned how to spell flower the other day f-l-o-u-u-e-r mister foolish i saw a dead cat on the side of the road the other day)

 (mister foolish are you ever lonely)

 The humans grow more and more frustrated with his complete and utter radio silence, and while he's out their festivals to him grow more and more complex, the animals growing bigger, rarer, more impressive.

 (i offer you this ender dragon egg this elytra this nether star this emerald ore this music disc)

 He's not gonna lie; the person who built that beautiful cottage had him for a solid minute.

 But he's not really paying attention to any of that; he's not the only God to have festivals and sacrifices in his name. Definitely not gonna be the last.

 (what do we have to do to bring back our loved ones?)

 He's just happy to build.

 Bargaining is a stage of grief, but so is acceptance, and they must learn to accept this.

 (except their not accepting it, the town is just growing angrier, more desperate, going bigger and bigger, hunting animals around them to extinction.)

 The first time they kill a human, he's pretty sure it's an accident. An old man, long past his time, probably just died from shock or disease.

 They put his body on the altar and offer him up to him, not to revive but as a sacrifice. He arrives, cloaked in illusions as thick as the fog around the town. He still sees Death though, watching sedately from where she's sitting on the wall, her angel beside her.

 They're gone in the next moment.

 The town never buries the old man, keeps him on the altar, and, after three days, Foolish takes him, takes him far away to an old field and buries him there.

 (the leader of the town finds the missing body and smiles. their god has accepted their gift)

 He hopes it's a one time thing

 (because what did they do to that man how could they these humans these ants small and painfully easy to kill but flocking together working together how could they turn on one of their own)

 (because what would he do then?)

 (after the man disappears from the altar, the child prays to him again, telling him the man's name, and how he once stopped the child from getting a rash from poisonous flowers. he liked violets the child tells him)

 (maybe the child really does know what he's the god of. maybe the child's just lonely.)

 He doesn't know what exactly triggered it. Maybe they saw the child trying to make conversation with a God instead of praying to one. Maybe the child, in the way all children are, said something controversial, maybe about the man who was left on the altar to rot.

 Maybe, maybe, maybe.

 He isn't there when the child is dragged out onto the streets, and dumped at the feet of the altar in front of the whole town, trembling and shaking. And the child is a child but is no fool, has seen the sacrifices has seen what has happened, and does what any scared child will do-try to run.

 And at the same time the child tried to back away, the leader swung his sword, and the whole town watched as the child screamed, eyes bloodied and slashed from the blade. 

 (he had been aiming for the neck)

 (not a fighter, that leader)

 "A life for a life!" The leader exclaimed and swung again.

 (the child collapsed on the floor and the crowd pressed in, eager to watch as they choked and gagged on the blood spilling out of their torn open throat, arms scrabbling into the ground like a beetle like a cockroach like an ant whose colony had turned on it)

 And- and then-

 And at the same time the child tried to back away and the leader swung his sword, the child had had one last panicked, desperate thought.

 (mister foolish, they're gonna kill me)

 And at the same time-

 And at the same time the leader slit the child's throat, a golden clawed hand grabbed him by his.

 "So yeah" Foolish says. "Cults are, like, the worst."

 Ranboo and Tubbo continue to stare at him. "Uh" Ranboo says, then promptly stops talking.

 "Did you . . kill them?" 

 He nods, bouncing on his feet a little. "Yeah" he smiles "good times."

 The two teenagers both look like they don't know what to do with that.

 "Well, at least they deserved it" Tubbo offers up attentively, and Ranboo nods

 "Can't believe they executed a child. Nobody deserves to die like that" Ranboo mutters and Tubbo winces beside him.

 "Y-yeah" Tubbo agrees nervously, twining his hands together "that poor kid. Hope it was peaceful."

 Foolish blinks at them. "Wait, what?" Then he replays their entire conversation and laughs.

 "Laughing at a kid's death" Ranboo notes, before turning to Tubbo "why are we letting him near Michael again."

 "No, no" Foolish waves his hands "you misunderstood me; the child didn't die."

 "You guys do remember I'm the God of Undying, right?" He raises an eyebrow at them both. "I healed the kid's neck wound right up." Ranboo just blinks at him in that slightly unsettling way that only an enderman can do.

 "I thought you didn't revive people personally."

 Foolish glances outside, past the both of them. "This was different" he says "this was-"

 (my fault my fault i turned a blind eye i could have stopped this sooner you choked and gagged and cried out for anyone to save you but in the end the motivation for your murder had to step in.)

 "-an exception."

 "Good for you!" Tubbo cheers, shooting his hands in the air vehemently "the whole stinking town is gone and you and the child lived!"

 Foolish makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Except the other towns had heard about the towns rituals. And it began to spread."

 Tubbo's hands drop. "Oh."

 "Yeah" he agrees "oh. But the worst part was the damage done to the child."

 "Let me guess" Ranboo says, dry as Egypt. "Traumatised?"

 "To put it mildly."

 (the child had turned blind eyes towards him, and when he had reached out to grasp the pudgy hand it had recoiled, the small body curling up away from him and he had burned)

 (the child hadn't seen or felt the tsunami that destroyed the entire town. but the screams- they had ears)

 "But uh" he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot "not just that. I'm the God of Undying, so I can heal other's mortal injuries."

 A long pause.

 "Their mortal injuries" he repeats.

 "Oh!" Tubbo jerks back "oh God! The child's eyes-"

 "I healed them" he says, then winces "tried to heal them" he corrects. Better. "But uh, because they weren't fatal they weren't exactly, uh, restored."

 (the mirror is broken and the cracks will show even when it's put back together and you'll never see the same way again my fault my fault i'm sorry i'm so so so sorry)

(this is all i can give you i am so sorry only child lonely child i cant take all you pain away but i promise you here and now you will be lonely no more)

"Damn." The closest Ranboo will ever get to a swear.

 "It gets worse" Foolish chirps "the other towns found out that a child had been blessed by the Totem God himself. Were very interested in what exactly this child could do."

 A long pause.

 Then. "Cults" Ranboo says faintly.

 "Cults" Foolish agrees cheerfully, thinking of a child screaming in agony with bloodstained eyes and a gashed throat as others looked on, indifferent.

 Cults Foolish thinks grimly as that same child is dragged up to be executed by the Eggpire.