#i would do rabid things in parking lots for this man

[midnightsunnyday]

So, once again, here I am at 2 AM with another hot take, this time on Lucifer.

If you really look at it, from the very beginning of the story, Lucifer isn't that horrible to us. You might think this is my Lucifucker bias kicking in, but for the first few chapters of the story, Lucifer is somewhat amicable to us being there. Authoritative, autocratic, patronizing, kinda scary, and well, prideful (duh), but otherwise...tolerable and leaves us to our own devices, for the most part.

The only time he begins to show hostility is when he starts to suspect us of having ulterior motives for making pacts with his brothers and getting too involved in his family's business. The two times where he does attack us may seem unwarranted to the player, but narratively, makes sense in regards to Lucifer's characterization.

So yes, it's time to get ready for...

Me analyzing the two times Lucifer tried to kill the ever loving shit out of us because I'm a simp, but also one who can read (somewhat):

So, let's look at Lesson 6 or the first time Lucifer tries to murder bomb us. We, the reader, know that Luke, despite his feelings towards demons, wouldn't intentionally do anything to harm the brothers and obviously, had no idea what he was holding was a grimoire. He was a lost kid who unfortunately, stumbled across something he shouldn't have touched.

Yet from Lucifer's perspective, he sees an angel (beings who he's shown to hold bias against...for obvious reasons) trying to "steal" the very book that if in the wrong hands, could put his entire family in danger, along with the human who's protecting him (who he's shown to be already skeptical of), and his own brother, who hid the angel in their very home and allowed him the opportunity to do so.

Right now, he's not looking at the situation like we are because we already have that information. We know why Luke is in the underground tomb. We know why Beelzebub tried to hide him. But for Lucifer, all he sees is the enemy invading his home. This is the first time we see Lucifer enraged past the point of reason, so much so that if not for Diavolo, he would've killed MC.

Remember the beginning title of Lesson 6: There Are Some Wounds Time Can't Heal. Lucifer's reaction may not have been logical to us, yet considering what we learned about the secret room, about the brothers being former angels and fighting in the Celestial War and Lilith's death from Beelzebub two chapters earlier, it was logical to Lucifer and Lucifer alone. It doesn't excuse him from doing it, but it's an important part of his characterization and purposely done to show how these events still affect him.

The same is true with Lesson 12. Lucifer tries to straight up dead us again, yet only after learning that we disobeyed his warnings about going up into the attic and conversed with Belphegor. Add that with him finally beginning to trust us (even developing small hints of a crush, flirting with us more than once) and the rather heartwarming bonding moment before it and Lucifer's trust is completely broken. Considering we learn later on why Belphegor was locked in the attic and what really happened to Lilith, Lucifer's reaction is not surprising. Not great, but not surprising.

It's then you begin to understand the basis of Lucifer's rage. Before making his vow to Diavolo, Lucifer states that whether demon or angel, he will always stay true to his convictions. Right then and there, we see what truly matters to Lucifer. His love for Lilith, his family. Even if it means sacrificing his pride and serving Diavolo. Even if it means becoming the bad guy to his brothers. He did, especially with the lack of options, what was necessary to save his sister. In turn, said decision also saved his brothers.

And so we see that the only two times where Lucifer is ready to attack is due to the perceived threat against his family, going so far as to risk Diavolo's goals of uniting the three realms not once, but twice, something that he surely knows the consequences for.

So yeah, I write all that to say that you can dislike Lucifer all you want. You can argue about how he punishes his brothers, especially Mammon. You can argue how he's a stubborn ass with the emotional communication skills of a sun-dried turd. You can argue that he's too subservient to Diavolo, to the point where he takes for granted his brothers wishes or feelings (arguments in which I do have opposing opinions on, but to do so will make this post longer than it needs to be).

Yet to call him evil is to ignore so many pieces of his characterization that shows otherwise. How vulnerable he can be, how affectionate, how silly, how he truly loves his brothers and will go out of his way for them, etc.

But to call him good isn't quite right either since well...he has no qulams about killing people, threatening them, attacking his siblings in a rage induced tantrum, lying, locking people in attics...

He's the well-intentioned extremist. The lawful evil. The noble demon. A rabid dog who snaps and barks at the slightest threat but pet him once and tell him he's a good boy and he'll melt in your hand.

Like, I know this shit is long, and I could go even further, but for now I'm going to defend the fact that Lucifer is just...he's a good character, ok? A good, complicated, mess of a character.

And I absolutely love him for it.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 15

part 1 | part 14 | ao3

“Please please please please pleeeeease,” Dustin whines, tugging hard on the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“Dude get off me.” He slips the last of the leftover containers into the fridge, slams the door shut, and turns to glare at Dustin, who oh-so-conveniently had to step out after dinner to ‘walkie Lucas about a homework question’ and left Steve and Eddie to do the washing up.

In the absence of a Henderson buffer, the air between them had pretty immediately gone stale. Hesistant and charged, overly formal; fucking weird. Eddie moves like a weirdo, sways his hips out of the way of counter corners instead of walking a straight path, like some swaggering drunken pirate, and he spent the last ten minutes awkwardly traipsing around the perimeters of the kitchen as if Steve were a landmine he might set off at any time.

So yeah.

Steve’s feeling a little ungracious at the moment. “Seriously, what is so important that you can’t just show it to us tomorrow?”

“Ummm, scientific discovery? Wonder at the natural world around us?? Where’s your sense of adventure, Steve?”

“The last time I followed my sense of adventure out to your cellar I almost got—” His eyes cut sharply to Eddie, who’s doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop. Steve scrambles for a way to end his sentence that isn’t eaten by a creature with a razor flower for a face. “—uh, mauled.”

“Mauled?” Eddie asks, eyes bugging out. “Henderson, I’m not following you into the woods to get to turned into some feral thing’s chew toy, man.”

“It was fine,” Dustin insists, covertly kicking Steve in the shin.

Steve thinks of his NDAs and plays along. “Y-yeah. Totally fine. It was just, like, a rabid raccoon or something.”

“That… does not sound fine.”

“It’s cool,” Steve tries to reassure him (no idea why, really; that cellar’s nightmare fuel.) He throws a dish towel over his shoulder, nods his head decisively. “I’ll bring my nail bat with us.”

“You’ll fucking bring your what?”

—

Steve drags his nail bat through the leaves on the narrow trail, the wood thudding along behind him as they make their way to the cellar, a detached storm shelter at the far edge of the lot. It’s dark out here. And cold. His breath hangs in a puff of wet fog when he mutters, “Seriously, Dustin, this better be Noble Prize worthy stuff.”

“It’s Nobel,” Eddie says.

“Huh?”

“The, uh- the prize? It’s No-bel.”

“….Well, that’s stupid.”

“Why would it be Noble?” Eddie snorts, but his eyes are curious and kind.

“Because— because you have to be Noble to earn it? I don’t know!” Eddie laughs like he finds the answer cute. Steve doubles down. “That makes perfect sense, and you know it. A Noble Prize for a Noble Effort. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grunts as he unlocks the cellar doors. “Now come on.”

—

The cellar's just as creepy as Steve remembers: low ceiling, dusty cement blocks, a single, sad lightbulb dangling on a string. He eyes the dark corner on the far side of the squat room, bricked up now but it wasn't before; there were tunnels under here, once, vast networks like blood vessels to the beating heart of a monster Steve still can't fully comprehend. He grips the bat a little tighter.

"—Shit," Dustin says suddenly, cutting himself off mid-ramble about how cool his latest science project is, how it puts Cerebro to shame. "I forgot the remote." "You want me to go get it?" Steve offers. "No!" Dustin says it in a rush, then stammers, "No, that's okay. You won't know what to look for." He seems nervous. Jittery. Maybe the cellar creeps him out, too. "Be right back, just wait here."

"Grreeeat," Eddie replies as Dustin jogs back up the stairs, cupping his hands around his mouth to call sarcastically after him, "We'll just be loitering in your murder basement, then; take your time!"

With Dustin gone, there’s nothing to do but stand there metaphorically twiddling their thumbs. Steve’s idly swinging his bat in a wide sweep around his calves, and Eddie’s staring at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe into a streak of dirt, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. He’s humming something that Steve can't quite make out, but it doesn't sound like the stuff he usually blasts from his van. It's softer. Easy. Almost pop.

“Hey, wait a sec...” Steve holds up a finger, turning his good ear toward the stairs. The leafy crunch of footsteps isn’t getting any quieter, and now it sounds like there are two pairs, getting louder; circling back. “You hear that?”

Eddie nods. Looks serious and spooked. Steve raises his bat, a sudden spike of fear; he creeps over to the stairs. “Hey,” he calls to the darkness. The rustling noise picks up, a swish of movement through the brush, and then the crrrrroak of something metal. Something heavy, groaning on its—

Hinges. Hinges. Son of a bitch, the cellar doors. “Hey!” he shouts, breaking into a run. “HEY—!”

BOOMMMM.

The doors slam shut with a heavy crash and the grating clink of more metal scraping metal. Steve bolts up the stairs, shoves with all his strength against the slanted doors above him. The doors don’t budge. “What the fuck?” Eddie shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

Steve pounds against the doors. “HENDERSON?”

Eddie comes up to join him, using his forearms like battering rams to try to bash the doors open. His voice cracks when he hollers, “Henderson, for real, man! I-if this is some kinda- some kinda sick fucking joke it isn’t funny!!”

“It’s for your own good!!” a voice that isn’t Dustin yells through the gap in the doors, and Eddie squawks, “MIKE?”

Mike?? MIKE?? Oh, that goddamned ungrateful, conniving little—

“We just wanted you two to talk to each other!” Mike says.

Dustin adds, “For real this time."

“Yeah, for real this time!”

Steve punches the doors, and Eddie bares his teeth like he can scorch a hole through the metal with the heat of his glare alone. “Wheeler, you are SO dead!!”

“So fucking dead!!!” Steve agrees.

---

part 16

tag list below the cut, comment if you want to be added tomorrow (or dm me if you want to be removed)

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @novelnovella @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection

[cinebration]

Hardly Believe It (Tuck x Reader) [Request]

Hello! How are you? Thankyou for this selfless social service you do here lol. I absolutely love your writing.

Can I request a friends to lovers drabble for Eames or Tuck where they hold hands with their friend so as to not loose them in a big crowd?

Thankyou so much💜—Requested by anon

Enjoy this Christmas fluff!

Warnings: crowds, anxiety

Gif Source: dilfgifs

“This is a terrible idea,” you groaned as Tuck finally found an empty parking space. “I should’ve just ordered stuff online.”

“The last things you ordered were nicked,” he countered, killing the engine and unclipping his seatbelt. “This isn’t ideal, but there are no alternatives.”

“Yes there are.”

“Really? Enlighten me.”

Resisting the urge to smack the back of his head, you grumbled, “I could just not get anything.”

“And disappoint your family?” He snickered. “What would your aunt say?”

Lips twisting in displeasure, you folded your arms over your chest, the seatbelt still firmly attached to its anchor. “What if I give you my credit card and you can just buy it all?”

Tuck eyed you, then arched both eyebrows. “Fine. I will go and buy the most inappropriate things in the place for your loved ones.” He pulled the keys from the ignition.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Serves you right for being stingy.”

“You wouldn’t,” you insisted. “You’re British!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Stiff upper lip and all that crap, you know!”

Snorting, Tuck opened the car door and stepped out, letting it fall shut behind him. He slipped out of view.

“You forgot the credit card,” you shouted through the glass, groaning again. With the engine off, the winter chill began leeching the heat out of the car.

Your door opened, Tuck leaning down and across to unclick your seatbelt before you could protest. Yanking you to your feet, he hip-checked the door shut and began herding you through the parking lot and into the mall.

“Bastard,” you hissed.

“This is payback for the bowling incident.”

“My God, aren’t you ever going to let that go?”

“Bowling!”

Rolling your eyes, you managed to quip before Tuck pulled open the department store door, “FDR had a great time.”

“Yes, well, he’s American.”

A wall of heat hit you as you entered the store. The heating unit had been working overtime to combat the winter cold, and the sheer number of people milling around inside for last-minute Christmas shopping added a stuffy layer of humidity you immediately wanted to escape from.

“Please,” you whispered, seizing Tuck’s elbow. “This is almost as bad as Black Friday.”

Anxiety flooded through you as you recalled the Black Friday from two years before. Crushed in a mass of bodies, elbows digging into ribs and hips, you had suffered a bruised collarbone and a twisted ankle when some man yanked the box from your hands hard enough to send you flying into someone else’s shopping cart.

“I’m here this time,” Tuck assured you. “And it isn’t as bad, see?”

You swept your gaze around the mall. All you could see were the last-minute shoppers milling the aisles, the space filled with a sea of bodies.

“They’re less rabid,” you conceded—but just barely, anxiety buzzing painfully beneath your skin.

Tuck started forward, weaving his way through the crowd. You hesitated to follow, and the crowd swallowed him up.

“Tuck!”

You scanned the crowd, struggling to distinguish his head from everyone else. Panic clawed up your throat, raking icy fingers along your spine as your breath grew ragged, heart thundering in your chest. There was nothing but people, a crushing onslaught of bodies you couldn’t get through. They shot you strange glances, lips curling into sneers, jeers of laughter ringing in your ears.

“Tuck!”

“I’m right here,” Tuck said, appearing beside you.

Tears filled your vision. Furiously blinking them away, you breathed a sigh of relief, a trembling hand pressing to your forehead as you caught your breath.

“Come on, then.”

“I can’t do this,” you muttered, your fingertips coated with cold sweat.

Tuck’s hand pressed reassuringly on your shoulder. Glancing at him, you met his comforting gaze.

“I’m right here,” he repeated. “You won’t get hurt.”

Still unconvinced, you managed a jerky nod.

Tuck’s hand slid down your shoulder and closed around yours, fingers intertwining. Frowning, you stared at them as Tuck led you through the crowd, weaving easily among the shoppers with no incident. His hand was warm, palm dry and rough, scraping deliciously against yours. You found yourself focusing on the sensation, distracting you from the chaos around you.

“Where’s your list?” Tuck asked.

“What?”

“What are you buying for your family?”

“Oh.” With your free hand, you fished around in your pockets until you found the unevenly folded list written on a paper towel. Tuck took it wordlessly, but a chuff of amusement slipped past his full lips.

“Most of these are found in the same section,” he noted. “We’ll finish in no time. And the queue isn’t too long.”

“Sure,” you mumbled.

To your surprise, Tuck wasn’t wrong. The little basket he picked up on the way inside filled with gifts in twenty minutes, and then you were both in a medium-length line for the cashier. Tuck held onto your hand the entire time, even all the way out to the car.

When you had to let go, you felt the loss of his touch keenly in a way you never had before.

The drive back to your home was quiet, your thoughts a confusing whirlwind. Tuck helped you carry the gifts inside.

“Now, then,” he declared, having deposited them on the kitchen table. “Where is your gear?”

“What?”

“To wrap the gifts, love.”

Heart tripping in your chest, you retrieved the gift-wrapping supplies from above the linen closet and dumped them onto the table. “You don’t have to help.”

“Why not? I don’t mind.”

After a few minutes of silent wrapping—though the work itself wasn’t quiet, the bags and wrapping paper and tissue paper crinkling in a comforting cacophony—you said, “Thank you, Tuck.”

He flashed a warm smile in your direction. “It’s no bother.”

“No, I mean…thank you for helping me at the store. I…I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

The smile softened a fraction. “It’s no bother,” he repeated.

Nodding, you slapped some tape onto the gift you were wrapping, your eyes glued to the festive pattern on the paper. The words moved through your thick throat. “How long have we been friends, Tuck?”

“Three or four years now, I imagine.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Do you think…maybe we should try something else?”

The silence threatened to suffocate you. You refused to look up, anxiety breaking out in painful gooseflesh along your arms and the back of your neck.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Quailing, you shook your head. “Nevermind. I’m talking shit, that’s all. Blah blah blah.”

Gathering up the packages that had already been wrapped, you hurried from the room to deposit them in your room. Face burning, you fought the emotions roiling in your chest.

“Stupid,” you hissed to yourself. “Stupid stupid stupid!”

Footsteps followed after you. Heart leaping into your throat, you steeled yourself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tuck repeated, trying to catch your eye.

“Forget it. It’s just the leftover anxiety talking. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

You tried to step past him. His hand closed gently over your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. The proximity of his body to yours sent a shiver down to your toes.

“Are you saying you want to be more than friends?”

“Look,” you backpedaled, “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to ruin things, okay? You were just so nice to me today, I got confused, that’s all.”

“I know you,” he insisted, preventing you from stepping around him again. “You don’t say anything without meaning it. So answer the question.”

Panic thickened your tongue. “What was the question again?”

The words slipped over his lips in a low whisper. “Are you saying you want to be more than friends?”

Blood rushed through your ears. You risked a glance at him, unable to avoid his gaze any longer. His guarded expression confused you.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered.

Tuck’s lips parted in surprise. You tugged on his grip, desperate to flee, to escape the riot of emotions burning beneath your skin.

“I was worried,” he said.

You shot him a confused frown. “W-worried?”

“I was worried you didn’t feel the same. I was too…scared to ask.”

“Wait…are you saying…?”

His lips pulled into a sweet smile, making your heart ache. Nodding, he lifted your hand up to his chest, pressed it against his heart.

Disbelief disoriented you. “I’m dreaming, right? This isn’t really happening?”

“It is happening,” he assured you, pressing his forehead against yours. “I can hardly believe it either.”

“You’ve…you’ve wanted this? For how long?”

“Months now.”

“And you didn’t say anything…”

“Because I was afraid of losing you if I was wrong.”

“So we could’ve been together months ago?” A spark of annoyance flared. “All that wasted time!”

“Patience is a virtue, love.”

You choked on a laugh. “Sure, now the Britishness comes out.”

He grinned. “It’s my best weapon.”

You laughed, overwhelmed with it all, still confused and not quite believing it. A sense of unreality flooded you.

Tuck closed the distance and swept you up into a kiss, knocking aside all your doubts.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter Six

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: angry Col, swearing, M*gan F*x but she goes away soon, emotional Col, Presley being an angel, golden retriever/zero brain cell having Cash, a mushy surprise ending

There's a lot going on in this one, y'all, so buckle up. Hope you enjoy! The smut is returning soon, I promise!

Colson

As I drive, I can’t for the life of me figure out why Cash would ever give Megan Presley’s number.

I was originally planning on going home, but I change my mind and take the exit to Cash’s place instead. I pull up and search for his car, parking when I spot it. I hop out quickly and storm up to the door. Whereas last night I waited until I was calmer to reach out to Megan, there’s not a patient bone in my body.

I pound on the door and when Cash opens it, he flashes that goofy smile of his. But when he sees me, the smile falls. “Kells?”

“I’m coming in,” I tell him, and push my way inside.

Cash shuts the door behind himself and cautiously approaches me. “What’s going on?” he asks worriedly.

“Why are you giving people your sister’s number?” I snap. I’m breathing hard and seeing red. I’m furious.

Cash’s brow furrows, his eyes filling with confusion. “Huh?”

I stare at him like he’s dumb. “Megan Fox?”

Cash looks confused and then realization washes over his face. “Ohhh,” he says with a slow nod. “Yeah. Ran into her at a restaurant and she was chatting with me. Said she likes my sister’s look and wanted to reach out to her about some modeling.”

I go still for a long few moments. Then, I let out a breathless laugh. Fucking Megan. Always the lying manipulator. The fight goes out of me and I completely deflate, going to sit on Cash’s couch. I drop my head into my hands and rub my eyes. He follows me, keeping his distance like I’m a rabid dog.

“Why…why is that bad?” he asks slowly.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I totally forgot: he doesn’t know about me and Megan. Our relationship began and ended before he joined us on tour. 

“Cash, I’m sorry,” I say, full of remorse. “I’m an asshole.”

Cash frowns and sits on the other leg of the couch. “I’m so confused,” he says.

“Megan is my ex,” I say. 

Cash blinks and then nods. “Oh. Got it.”

“She isn’t actually interested in Presley’s modeling skills,” I say.

Cash slumps. “She was trying to get to you. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Kells,” he says, brown eyes filled with guilt.

I shake my head. “Don’t be,” I say. “If I had been in your shoes, I would've done the same thing.”

“So what did she want?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “She texted Pres some bullshit trying to convince me to talk to her. It worked,” I mutter. “She wants me back. Obviously I turned her ass down.”

Cash winces. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know.”

“Exactly, so there’s no need to be sorry,” I assure him. “I’m sorry for barging in here making accusations.”

“You’re all good, brother,” Cash says cheerfully, and just like that, all is well again.

“I gotta go talk to Presley,” I sigh, and Cash nods, walking me to the door. “Love you, man. Sorry again.”

“It’s all good,” Cash assures me. “You and my sister doing okay?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” I reply. “We’re great.”

There are many reasons that I love Presley Carver. 

Her sense of humor and her laugh. Her compassion. Her creativity. Her gentleness. The way she listens and understands me. The way she just gets me. 

But I fall in love with her even more when instead of reacting to my confession with anger, she gets up and hugs me. 

I’m completely shocked when her arms slide around my neck, but I’m not going to fight it. I wrap my arms around her waist in a fierce hug, holding her to me so tightly that my arms tremble a little. Suddenly, I’m overcome with emotion. I can’t even really process it right now.

“Are you okay?” she asks, playing gently with the hair at the nape of my neck.

“I…I’m not sure,” I admit, closing my eyes, comforted by her touch.

Presley sighs and snuggles me closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“You’re not mad?” I ask.

“No,” she says, rubbing my back. “You did what you had to do to figure out who betrayed you. It makes sense. Do you feel better knowing no one actually did?”

“Much better,” I say. “I should’ve never believed a word Megan said.”

“It’s okay. It’s over now,” Presley soothes. “How can I make you feel better?”

I can think of a few ways, but for now, I just need to be close to her. I bend to wrap her legs around my waist, scooping her into my arms. She clings to me as I carry us upstairs to our room and settle her on the bed. She reaches for me and I let her pull my head to her chest, her long nails gliding against my scalp in a way that makes me shiver with pleasure. 

“You know I would never go back to her, right?” I mumble into her chest.

“Of course.” Presley’s voice is quiet. Even and calm. It soothes me even more. “I know you love me, Col. You do a perfect job of showing it.”

I relax even more, most of the tension now gone from my body. I close my eyes and hold my girlfriend close. “How did I get so lucky?” I ask.

Presley’s fingers continue moving in my hair, slow and soothing. “I ask myself that same question every day,” she admits.

I look up at her. She smiles at me, those green eyes so beautiful and full of love, and I know all at once that I want to marry her. There’s no more fear or doubt. This girl is my future wife. I lift my face to hers and kiss her, trying to convey all my love with the gesture. My heart pounds at the thought of putting a ring on her finger, giving her my last name. I just hope I’m lucky enough for her to say yes. 

Presley

Colson has been weird ever since the Megan thing, and it’s making me sick.

He’s been at the studio way more often, sometimes leaving before I’m even awake. When he gets home, he avoids me. I have no idea what I did wrong, but my mind is moving a million miles a minute. Does he want Megan back? Is he regretting moving so fast with me? 

I’ve been an anxious mess all fucking day, so when Colson finally texts me, my hands tremble so hard that my phone clatters to the ground. When I pick it up, I curse. A huge crack runs right down the center of the screen. My lip trembles and I sink to the ground, taking deep breaths as my eyes burn. I will not cry right now. I won’t. 

After composing myself, I carefully open up Colson’s message. Sophie’s on her way over. I frown in confusion, liking the message. I don’t respond otherwise. His coldness is scaring me and I don’t want to reply in case it triggers a conversation about him ending things. I’m glad, at least, that I won’t have to be alone anymore. 

Sure enough, Sophie arrives quickly. I let her in and immediately, she can tell I’m upset. “Oh, pet,” she says, wrapping me in a hug. Her touch is what finally breaks me and the tears well over. “Shhh, you’re okay, love,” she soothes.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I admit miserably. “Colson has been so distant. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m sure,” Sophie says softly. She pulls back from the hug. “You know what? Let’s go out.”

I blink at her. “Yeah?”

Sophie nods. “Yeah. Can I borrow a dress?”

“Of course,” I say.

Upstairs, Sophie and I take our time getting dressed, doing our hair and makeup, and making ourselves look pretty. Sophie insists on going somewhere nice, so I decide on a blue satin dress that hugs my curves and makes my legs look even longer than they already are. I slide into a pair of heels and look at myself in the mirror. My long hair is swept up into a pretty updo and my makeup is flawless. It feels good to dress up again. It just sucks knowing this isn’t for Colson.

“You look amazing,” Sophie says, coming to stand beside me in front of the mirror. “Let’s go out. Forget about Colson being weird.”

I nod, determined to have a good night. “Let’s go.”

Sophie and I have dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in the city, and we end up having a great time. We each have a glass of wine and the food is incredible. Once we’re finished eating, I feel so much better. I don’t even care if Colson wants to act weird. He can do whatever he wants.

“Ready to go?” Sophie asks after we pay the bill. I nod and get to my feet.

“Let me just freshen up quickly,” I say. Sophie nods and I make a detour to the bathroom. I touch up my lipgloss and fluff my hair. When I get home, I want Colson to see what he’s been missing out on for days of weirdness. 

Sophie and I go to her car and take off towards home. I busy myself with checking notifications on my phone and I’m so distracted that I don’t notice we’ve gone a different way until Sophie is pulling the car to the side of the road. My brow furrows.

“Where are we?” I ask.

Sophie hands me an envelope that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Her expression is a perfect poker face. “Hop out and open it, babe,” she says. I do as I’m told, tearing open the envelope while I wait for Sophie to join me, but instead, she speeds off. My eyes widen in shock.

“Hey!” I call after her, so confused. What the hell is going on? It’s then that I notice where I am. I look up in awe. 

It’s dark outside, so the twinkling lights are even more noticeable. I’m at some sort of greenhouse with plants and fairy lights twinkling everywhere. It’s stunning. I tear my eyes away to pull the card out of the envelope. I blink slowly before reading it.

Meet me in the middle of the greenhouse. Xo colson 

Startled, I tuck the note back into its envelope and step into the greenhouse. I swallow hard and wander towards the middle, looking around as I do. This place is absolutely stunning with all its greenery, flowers, and sparkling lights. It smells beautiful, too, like fragrant flowers. Finally, I look forward and that’s when I spot my boyfriend.

I think, for not the first time, that Colson is pure wonder.

He’s the most stunning person I’ve ever seen, of any gender. His cheekbones and eyelashes should be illegal. His lips are soft and his eyes are twinkling and warm. However he wears his hair he looks amazing, but I love it just like this, slightly shaggy and long. He’s wearing a suit that hugs his body perfectly, and fleetingly, I want to ask him to turn around so I can see his butt. An almost hysterical giggle bubbles out of me. 

“What the hell is going on?” I ask as I stop a few feet in front of him.

Colson’s eyes slowly wander my body. “You look stunning,” he says.

“Col,” I say, shaking my head. “What is happening here?”

Colson’s throat bobs and he steps a little closer to me. “Pres,” he says.

“Yeah?” I ask skeptically, taking in his nervous body language. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been weird the past couple of days,” he says, eyes meeting mine. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, my heart starting to race. I’m lost. 

Colson wets his lips and steps closer, taking my hands. His thumbs rub over my knuckles and just his touch is enough to soothe me slightly. “Presley.” His voice is a little croaky and he clears his throat. “We’ve been through a lot together. I still can’t believe I fell in love with my guitarist’s sister.”

I can’t help but smile, squeezing his hands. “Me neither.”

Colson grins and kisses my knuckles. “I’ve never been so happy,” he admits. “You make me better, baby. You make me want to be happy. You make me want to take care of myself. You inspire me every single day.”

My heart starts to race as I listen to him, and my ears start to ring. Oh my god. Is this really happening? Is he going to–

Colson drops onto a knee in front of me.

I gasp, bringing my hands to my mouth. “Colson,” I squeak.

He smiles and flicks his hair out of his eyes. He fishes into his pocket and comes out with a black box the size of a ring. My breath completely leaves me and my eyes start to sting. “Oh my god. Oh my god,” I whisper into my hands.

Colson laughs and meets my eyes. “Presley Maeve Carver,” he says. “I’ve never loved anything more than I love you. I don’t want to live without you, baby. Please don’t make me.” He bites his lip as he pops open the box and my eyes go huge. The ring is massive and stunning and so perfect. “Will you marry me?” he asks.

My tears spill over and my knees buckle, and I fall to my knees in front of him, grabbing his face. I can barely speak through my tears but I nod adamantly. “Yes,” I say tightly. Colson beams and hugs my waist, pulling me close. We kiss deeply and slowly, my hands glued to his face, unable to stop touching him and feeling him and breathing him in. Holy shit. Colson just proposed. 

When we finally pull back from the kiss, we’re both breathing hard and my heart is pounding so hard it’s making me a little dizzy. Colson takes my shaking left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. I gasp when it’s on my hand and I stare at it in awe. “Cols,” I say. “You just proposed.”

Colson laughs and holds my face, kissing me gently. “I did.”

“You just asked me to marry you.”

“Yes, that’s what proposing means,” he teases and I lean in to nip at his lip. He laughs, eyes twinkling. 

“Colson,” I say. “You’re my fiance.” 

Colson grins widely. “And you’re mine. I love you, Pres.”

“I love you, too, holy shit,” I say, lunging forward to kiss him again. Colson chuckles into the kiss and holds me close, and that’s when I hear the cheers. We pull apart and I look around. There’s Sam with his camera. The entire band is here and Cash’s eyes look wet as he holds up his phone, snapping pictures. 

“This is why you’ve been acting so weird!” I exclaim and Colson laughs, nodding. I turn to Sophie. “You knew!”

Sophie snickers. “I sure did. That’s why I insisted we dress up.”

“Oh my god,” I say. I’m so overwhelmed but I’ve never felt joy like this before. I’m shaking hard and I look down at my ring again. I can’t even believe this is real life. I’m marrying Colson. I’m going to be his wife. Presley Baker. I’m going to have a husband. Holy shit. 

Surrounded by the people I love, I kiss my fiance again. I can’t believe how quickly life went from feeling meaningless to this. I’m never, ever going to let this man go. I pour all my life into our kisses and hold him close, hoping he knows just how much I love him, knows that I’ll do anything for him. That I’ll be with him until our time on this earth is over. 

Taglist:@triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu @hxllywoodwhxree

[karatekels]

Fresh Start - Day 12 (Part 1)

I had to break Day 12 into 2 parts for my own sanity; I hope you don't mind!

Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9 | Days 10 & 11 (Future updates will be added below!)

---

Day 12 - Afternoon

You are running late the next day as you drive up to Terry’s house. You hear your phone vibrate a second time from within your bag, and you just know that it’s him. Ignoring it, you listen to the car’s GPS, making the last few turns through the glamorous neighbourhood before approaching the gate outside of Terry’s home. Reaching through your window, you hit the buzzer.

“Mr. Silver’s residence. Please state your name and business.”

“Hi Victor! It’s Y/N, your favourite trespasser! I’m here to see Terry,” you announce cheerily. There is no response, but after a moment the gate swings open. Bothering Victor wasn’t as fun when you couldn’t see his reaction.

Driving through the gate, you head up the winding driveway, parking beside Terry’s Ferrari. Hoping that was alright – maybe Victor would get his revenge and have it towed – you hop out of the car with your bag, walking up to the front door.

Before you can knock, it swings open, revealing Terry with a scowl that doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I know I know, I’m late, I’m sorry!” you say apologetically as you walk past him into the front entrance, your voice echoing through the halls. This place was huge; you’d known it would be, but seeing it with your own eyes was another thing entirely. “This place is incredible,” you breathe.

“I’m glad it lives up to your standards,” comes Terry’s reply behind you. You spin around to face him, grinning at him sheepishly, giving him the thumbs up with both hands. He snatches one of your wrists up suddenly, making you flinch reflexively, but all he does is inspect your hand.

“What on earth have you done to your hands, Y/N?” he asks, looking over the collection of bandages decorating your fingers with mild concern.

“Well, you’re to blame for that, actually,” you say, laughing as you tug your arm out of his grip, giving him a brief hug. “They’re from getting your present together.”

“You got me a present?” Terry asks, a slight smile curving his lips that you find incredibly sweet. “What is it, a rabid cat you found on the street?” he jokes, reaching out once again to brush over one of the band-aids with his thumb. You can’t help but squeeze his finger lightly in response.

“Of course you’re getting a present,” you say exasperatedly, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Granted, it was difficult to come up with something for the man who has everything. What did you think I was doing yesterday?”

“I thought you were buying gifts for people back home,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smile sheepishly up at him. “I lied,” you announced proudly. “It’s why I was late today too, but hopefully it will all be worth it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“So impatient, Mr. Silver,” you tease, clutching your bag to you protectively. “I believe I was promised the grand tour; you hold up your end of the bargain, and then I’ll see if I even want to give you your present.”

“Well, I’d better put on one hell of a show then, hmm?” he replies, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you into his home.

---

The “grand tour” had gone on for well over two hours; not only was Terry’s home absolutely massive, but he had so much within these walls to show you.  You had spent twenty minutes in the library alone, and would have been content to spend the day there, poring over his collection.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you had said at the time, perhaps a bit more flirtatiously than was wise.

“Of course,” Terry had replied, his eyes twinkling down at you. “If I revealed everything all at once, it would be a lot more difficult to convince you to come back for a visit, now wouldn’t it?”

You hadn’t been able to stop the wide smile that broke out across your face, or the blush in your cheeks, feeling more pleased at his interest in having you back in town than upset at the thought of leaving in the first place.

After managing to get you out of the library, he had led you past the grand staircase that ran through the home – “just bedrooms and bathrooms on the third floor, nothing special” – to show you his office, a solarium filled with plants that took your breath away, and the wing of the house dedicated to his personal dojo and collection of Japanese artifacts. You had tried to convince him to show you some karate, but he refused, saying he drew the line at making a spectacle of himself. Like he wasn’t already a wonder to behold…

The first floor had also been a surprise; while obviously very opulent, it was also very warm and comfortable, including a beautiful kitchen, living room with a home theatre system (he had made sure to point out the original painting he had told you about in the museum, sending you both into a spirited debate about the value of owning originals again), and dining room. It felt lived in and happy, and you were glad for that – this was such a big space to live in alone (aside from the staff); you were grateful that it felt cozy for him.

 Finally, he led you outside, through his expansive gardens which you immediately loved more than the ones you had visited with him the other day, his outdoor pool and hot tub, and then around the corner, to the path that led to the beachfront; the place where you had first met, not even ten days ago. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand in the distance as you turn to face him, his expression telling you that he was likely thinking the same thing as you were.

“It seems like so much longer than nine days since we were here last,” you comment quietly, looking up at him with a shy smile. You can’t think of another time in your life when you had gotten so close to someone so fast, but with Terry the pacing just felt natural.

“I still haven’t thanked Victor for his persistence,” Terry quips, chuckling softly. “If he hadn’t bothered reading you the Riot Act, we never would have met.”

“We truly owe him a lifetime of gratitude for manhandling me,” you giggle, before biting your lip nervously. “Well, I guess it’s appropriate to give you your gift here, then.”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a large square of canvas folded in half, and hand it to him.

“TA-DA!” you exclaim with a flourish, and he gives you an amused quirk of his lips.

“What’s this?” he asks, looking down at the fabric.

“Your present,” you answer him patiently, trying not to bounce on your toes in anticipation. You really hope he likes it…

Terry unfolds the fabric, revealing an embroidery of two white flowers, their stems twined around one another. Across the top, the scientific name, yerba mansa, is written in thread, while below, its common name, lizard’s tail, is scrawled to match.

“I took apart my already-ruined tote bag, a hotel linen napkin, and three articles of clothing!” you announce, oddly proud of your own creativity and resourcefulness. “It took a long time to get it just right – I tried to copy it exactly from the book you gave me, so it’s kind of something we can share even when I’m back home!”

Terry is frozen in place, staring at the embroidery without blinking. You feel nervous, and keep explaining.

“I was looking through the book yesterday, and this is one of the plants that they had around the Teahouse. The common name is lizard’s tail, which made me think of you telling me about Cobra Kai – I know it’s not exactly the same, but I didn’t find any plants named after snakes that seemed as symbolic as this one…” you joke, trailing off when Terry still hasn’t moved.

You try to let the silence stretch, hoping he’ll be the one to break it, but he doesn’t, still seemingly transfixed. You bite your lip.

“Okay look, you don’t like it. I get it, it’s silly. It would look better if I’d had more time, and supplies, and –”

“It’s the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me,” he interrupts you in an oddly hoarse voice.

And then his lips are on yours.

--- Terry’s POV ---

He had thought he had planned everything out to the letter, but once again he had underestimated your tendency to throw a wrench in his plans. As the clock kept ticking after noon, he became more and more nervous; he knew you hadn’t blown him off or forgotten – you were too kind and loyal for that – which made him worry that something had happened to you. He fires off a couple of texts to you to check in, but they go unread and unanswered until finally he gets the notification through the security app on his phone that someone has been let through the gate, and lets out a relieved sigh, knowing that you are here and safe. He immediately notices the bandages covering your hands, checking them over with concern and a deep desire to finally touch you again. Your explanation of the injuries being from working on a gift for him entertains him, his curiosity piqued at what sort of thing you had acquired for him. At your bratty insistence, figuratively holding his gift over your head, he takes you through his home, taking you in at every opportunity. You looked at home here, like you belonged, like he had lived his life and built up this house with you in mind years before he ever met you.

Eventually you make your way outside, through the garden and to the path to the beachfront where he had first spotted you, only days ago. This was where he would make his confession, and do everything in his power to persuade you to stay here with him, just for eternity, please.

Before he can, you insist on giving him your gift. Of course, he acquiesces; he didn’t think he could refrain from giving you anything you wanted. You hand him a piece of fabric, clearly excited about it, and he recognizes it as being the same material from your old bag. Unfolding it, he takes in the image you have made, and your words about how it would tie the two of you together, and finds it difficult to remember how to breathe.

You had made this with your own hands, using your own clothing (something Terry found incredibly intimate), pricking yourself countless times (if the number of bandages decorating your fingers was any indication) with a needle in your haste to give him a token to remember you by, stitching together a memory of your time with him… stitching your story together into a beautiful image that he knew he would cherish until the end of his days.

Something primal burns fiercely within Terry as he takes in your gift, his heart thudding painfully from the emotions raging within him. He had planned on confessing to you here, the place where you had met, but once again you had gotten the jump on him, pouring your own heart out first through the presentation of your gift. It was clear to him that you shared his feelings; there was no need for words now.

Distantly, he recognizes that you are feeling anxious and self-conscious, hearing you mumble some nonsense about him not liking your gift (as if that were a possibility), and his eyes dart over to you, taking in your concave form as your shoulders hunch in on themselves. You silly, silly girl.

“It’s the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me,” Terry admits to you, for once letting the depth of his devotion carry over into his voice; you have him completely at your mercy, at you don’t even seem to recognize it. Your head lifts, seemingly startled by his tone, or his words, or both; it didn’t matter. It was finally time.

He turns to you, reaching down to caress the side of your face and bends to claim your lips with his own. You gasp against his mouth before he feels your dainty hands grab fistfuls of his shirt and pull him down closer to you, kissing him back in a way that has his heart soaring. The fire and passion that you regularly let burst out of you on a whim flows through your lips into the kiss, making him wonder if you loved him as much as he adored you.

Eagerly, he slides his hand from the side of your face to tangle in your hair at the back of your head, the way he had been aching to for what seemed like forever, his other hand coming around your waist, clutching you to him and lifting you onto your toes. You let out a whimper that nearly has him throwing you over his shoulder to take you inside, but he resists, wanting to savour the moment he had been hoping for since he had met you.

He runs his tongue along your lower lip, teasing the spot that you liked to bite when you were nervous or worried about something, and you deepen the kiss, stroking his tongue with your own and sliding your hands up his chest to twine around his neck.

As always, you seem incapable of going without teasing him, testing his control, and he sees no need to restrain himself any further. Sliding his hands down to your hips, Terry lifts you up easily, his hands supporting you with a firm grip on your thighs. You cling to him for support, your legs coming around his waist like they were made to be there, and he growls possessively, walking you both towards the stairs, kissing you desperately without pausing for breath.

“No, wait,” you say, breaking the kiss and squirming out of his grip, your feet back on the ground once more as you throw your arms out towards him. Terry allows you to move back a couple of steps, though he isn’t sure how long he can keep himself from grabbing hold of you again as he observes the way that you’re panting for breath through your kiss-swollen lips. Christ, you were beautiful.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, we don’t need to rush this,” he purrs soothingly, stepping towards you.

“Terry, no. We can’t do this,” you insist, your body turning in on itself again, like you were trying to shrink yourself down to escape his gaze. As if it was possible for him to overlook you.

“We can, we should, we will,” he croons passionately, trying to close the distance between you while you back away from him until your back hits a tree. He takes the opportunity to cage you against it with his arms, his forehead resting on yours. “I don’t know why we waited so long, but there’s still time to make up for it,” he says softly, gently taking your chin in one hand and tilting your face up to look at him. You shudder.

“We don’t have time, Terry!” you cry out, though your voice is still soft. “I leave in two days!”

“So stay,” he murmurs, looking deeply into your eyes. It would be no problem; on the contrary, it would be the ideal situation. He would keep you here in his home until it was your home as well. He would take care of everything.

“I can’t!” Your breathing is becoming frantic, like you’re starting to hyperventilate. But what could you possibly be scared of?

“Of course you can, my dear. We were meant to be.”

“I can’t just up and leave home, Terry, it’s crazy. We barely know each other.”

Well, that was hardly true. He was still trying to understand all of your strange, unpredictable eccentricities, but that was what the future was for. And you already knew him better than anyone else did.

“We know enough,” he insists, his thumbs wiping away your tears as they spill over. He understands that this must be overwhelming for you and tries his best to console you. “I’ve known enough for awhile now, and I think you have too. I know it’s crazy, Y/N, and scary, and fast, but you know this is right. I know you do.”

“I have to go,” you say decisively, your voice suddenly clear and determined as you slip under his arm and make for the stairs. He catches your hand before you can get away, keeping you in place. You couldn’t leave; it wasn’t part of the plan, Terry thinks, his heart somehow sinking into his stomach and rising to catch in his throat all at once as he starts to panic.

“We can figure this out together,” he whispers, desperation evident in his voice. His eyes scan your body, looking for any sign of your faltering resolve that he could cling to.

“Please let me go, Terry,” you breathe brokenly through your tears. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

He releases your hand as if you’ve burned him; something about you crying and begging him to let you go has sent a jolt through his system. You back up to the stairs, your expression pained and surprised, as if you thought he was going to keep you prisoner here or something. And why wasn’t he? You were clearly confused, you just needed some time to sit with the situation and think things over, clearly…

He watches you scramble up the stairs and out of sight, unsure of why he can’t seem to force his body to move, to go after you.

You don’t come back, and Victor finds him sitting on the stairs some time later, holding onto a scrap of embroidered fabric for dear life.

---

(I'm so sorry; this hurt me more than it hurt you)

Day 12-B | Day 13-A | Day 13-B | Day 13-C | Day 14-A | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

[hoodoo12]

how was the show??

THE SHOW. Oh man, THE SHOW. I had such a good time, thank you for asking! (it sparked a lil idea for a s-m-u-t-t-y story, so I'm happily typing away at that atm too!)

It was an audience of "standard" theater goers (older people who hold season tickets) + Beetlejuice fans. Fun combo. After coming from seeing it on Broadway with so many rabid fans, sitting in an audience that wasn't intimately familiar with it was a lot of fun. Kind of like being able to see it with new eyes again! At intermission I kept hearing things like, "This show is . . . interesting. Definitely different," from the older patrons. The old guy sitting next to me was talking to his wife and did some internet research on the show and Justin before it started; I managed not to fandump all the information in the world on them, lol

Even though the show was "sold out" there were plenty of seats open, including the one beside me. I wish I could have taken so many people who have put up with my fangirling about it for so long.

As for the performances! Kate grew on me as Delia. She is still no Leslie, but she seemed more comfortable in the role. Everyone did, actually. Everyone's cohesion and interactions were much more relaxed and natural compared to when I saw it last month.

Isabella knocked it out of the park of course. She really is a stellar Lydia. Will and Brittany still have great vibes together. Justin was amazing. Simply amazing. He really plays up to the audience and milks reactions. His improv background is so obvious; he has impeccable timing as to how long he can stretch a bit: the initial laugh, the increased laughter that comes when it continues, the dip in laughter when it becomes awkward, then the uptick again because it's so ridiculous. He did that twice: when he was sitting on Adam's lap (so much humping) and a sustained, almost a minute long scream after Lydia runs into the Netherworld.

I love that he added a little lore to Beetlejuice's background with the whole "Katherine Hepburn herpes" bit (if you don't know it, let me know and I'll write it out behind a spoiler). His Beetlejuice still sounds and gives off more of a menacing Keatlejuice vibe, which ngl, I am really digging.

My one complaint was that most of the cast seemed to rush through their lines. I know the show, but I bet if I didn't I would have had difficulty picking up on some of the words/lines from all the cast members except for Karmine and Justin.

One super weird thing was that during "What I Know Now", when it's "never smoke cigars in bed" the line was changed to "don't take too much Sudafed" and that actor was wearing a mask. Like a rubber face mask with fake hair that you could buy at a Halloween store. W-the actual-F?! It was just so out of place. I don't know if it was Matthew Michael Janisse (who made his Maxie Dean debut last night) and they wanted to cover his face for some unknown reason, but it was so bizarre I couldn't stop watching him in that scene.

Now onto the stage door! It was a different experience compared to what goes on in NYC. I don't know if people were starstruck or what, but . . . man. It was painfully awkward and I was just another fan standing there with them. There were only like 12 people waiting. All had BJ swag and several were talking about the bway show and stuff. When the actors started coming out, though, the other fans just acted deaf and dumb.

First was Will Burton. I clapped for him and told him what a good show, then since everyone else just stood there I walked up to him and started chatting. He asked if I wanted my playbill signed, I said sure; he asked if I had a pen and I said, "no, I'm the worst" so he dug around in his bag and found his own, lol

That type of interaction happened with.all.the.actors. Nobody waiting seemed to recognize any of them. Like WTF??

When Abe came out, I said, "Thanks for thr good show, Abe" and he zeroed in on me. "HOW DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!" he asked. I told him I saw him in NY, and yes, it was very creepy, lol lol. We talked for a while too.

I met Sean McManus, Lee Price (had a looong chat with him; he's a DEAR and such a good dancer! Holy crap I want to see him as Beetlejuice!!!), Kate, Isabella, Britney, Jesse, and Justin.

It was all the same with everyone standing around the stage door; if I didn't start talking/thanking the cast, they just froze like they had no clue what was going on. No one even seemed to recognize Justin! Like, this sweaty guy with black nails and smeared eyeliner was the star of the show you just watched! Since everyone else was frozen or whatever, we talked about stuff not related to the show. (I told him I liked his boots. He told me he stole them. hahaha--no, that was a true story.) I got the worst (or best? lol) photo of the two of us together.

So I guess the take away is: stage door in the city you see them in because that fan crowd (at least the size of it) is not anything like the NYC crowd.

I'm seeing it one more time before it leaves the area. If you get the opportunity to see it, do! It's worth it!

[yes-i-have-thoughts]

rave about Pokemon Arceus I wanna hear those thoughts

-*cracks knuckles*-

This game. I. Holy god. (CW: there will be spoilers.)

For one thing, Idgaf what people say about the graphics I thought they were beautiful. It was almost a fucking oil painting in there

I mean yeah, the shadows did get pixelated a little bit. or a lot. But like compared to the constant flashing-while-loading-in BS that Violet's textures pull that yanks me out of it this only kind of nudges at my brain and then I immediately forget about it

Also THE POKEMON. THE WAY THEY ARE RENDERED. I ASPODSIDFDS

Makes me RABID (though I have to say here that Violet wins this one because. Textures)

AND THEY CAN BE SO FUCKING BIG OR SO FUCKING SMALL lemme tell you about the time I caught a Ralts that was sO fucking tiny that when it evolved it was FIANLYL the size of an AVERFAGE SIZE RALTS

Would've loved to see that one pan out into a full evolution, but again. I restarted the game. She's lost to time now ;v;

ANYWAY ALSO THE ATTACK ANIMATIONS LOOK AMAZING AND THE FACT THAT YOU COULD MOVE AROUND DURING BATTLE SHOULD HAVE BEEN KEPT IN FUCK VIOLET FOR REMOVING IT I WANTED TO BATTLE WITH MY FUCKING POKEMON AGAIN

ahem. Contrary to what this may make you believe I do really like Violet /lh

Also the Pokémon actively trying to kill you was terrifying holy shit some of them had NO mercy and I wound up missing it more than I thought I would. Like it was legitimately more interesting when you had to avoid two-feet-tall little furballs because they'd give you reverse defibrillation if you looked at them funny and fuck me it never got any easier to get used to

Pokémon turned into a HORROR GAME

AND they made it a fUCKING HEADACHE to get rare Pokémon. No more fucking around in long grass waiting until you found one you have to Actively Park Your Ass Somewhere (and most of the time hope to god you didn't scare the little fucker away. Which I did. Many times. My aim is awful)

And while your Pokemon can't walk with you they CAN do things for you and you can vibe with them and once you're close enough with them they'll start falling asleep with you around and you can send out your ENTIRE TEAM AT ONCE

Which can look. Interesting. (Umbreon is much smaller than I initially thought, for starters)

Moving on from mechanics and textures and things!

The story had me tied in from day one. I don't know how common the time traveler trope is (Ik there's a name for it but I can't remember how it's spelled, forgive me) but this is my first time playing in/with it and it takes that idea and goes full fucking throttle and you can even go all in by having your player character be clueless about their own past and ASISDONF

THERE WAS A SURPRISING AMOUNT OF FREEDOM and the free roam thing really said "yeah fuck it go wherever"

I will gladly admit that I only got lost in Violet and never here but the game damn well tried (and the icelands are a nightmare when there's a snow storm, can't see shit if you're unlucky)

Also fuck Kamado. I wanted to kick him off a cliff so bad. The paranoid fuck kicked out a TEENAGER and yeah no I don't care how many times he apologizes I still wanted to tell my Luxray to fuckin' go at him with all she had

AND INGO. INGO INGO INGO INGO

Never knew who he was until PLA but now I would kill and die for him someone send that man back home it's been tEN FUCKING YEARS LETHIMGOHOME

And the amount of fics that made him a surrogate parental figure to the player character??? Yes please

So much we can do with him so little time

There's just. I have so much love for this game. I don't know when it catapulted above Sun and Moon but it did and it remains uncontested (though Violet did try)

[darlingandmreames]

2022 Fic Year in Review

Alright y'all, time for one of my favourite new year activities- looking back at all of the weird shit I wrote last year! I always love being able to look back and see all the things I've created and the progress I've made. So without further ado, here it is: Your Local Trash Goblin's 2022 Fic Year in Review!

Fandoms Written For: Inception (6), The Batman (2), Star Wars Rebels (1), The Guest (2), Encanto (1), Kingdom (1)

Total Word Count: 231,264

Fic With the Most Comments: With Words I Thought I'd Never Speak

Fic With the Most Bookmarks: A Remedy for Sadness

Fic I'm Proudest Of: Mile Deep Hollow

January

A Remedy for Sadness

Fandom: Encanto

Rating: General

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Julieta healed injuries and sicknesses with the food she made. But more than that, she used her food to show love.

I went through a brief period where I, like many on Tumblr, was absolutely obsessed with Bruno we don't talk about him and this was the result lol. I had a really fun time writing the sibling dynamic between Bruno and Julieta since that's not a dynamic I necessarily end up writing very often

February

Title: One Hand Above the Skin (My Head Below the Water)

Fandom: The Guest (Choi Yoon/Hwa-pyung)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Choi Yoon had been told over and over that facing evil directly took a permanent toll on one's mind and soul. Park Il-do was gone but his minions weren't, and Yoon found himself starting down several roads he wasn't sure he could come back from in an attempt to handle it

My K-drama obsession during internship interviews lol. Excellent show, highly recommend it

Title: Warmth Untouched by Cold

Fandom: Kingdom (Lee Chang/Yeong-shin)

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: If someone had told Yeong-shin a year ago that he would willing stay by the side of a noble, he would have laughed in their face. Long months of travel and late nights around a fire had bred a sense of familiarity and companionship, though, and the more Yeong-shin came to know the former Crown Prince, the more he found himself caring for the very human man who existed behind the title

Decided to rewatch Kingdom as a post-internship match treat, and ended up revisiting an old WIP I had for it! Unironically one of the most beautiful shows I've ever watched, please do yourself a favour and watch it

March

Title: Only Human

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels (Kallus/Zeb)

Rating: General

Word Count: 41.7k

Summary: After two years in the rebellion, Kallus had finally found his place. It hadn't always been a smooth process, but he'd found enough acceptance to get by. That didn't mean he didn't still have a few secrets, though, secrets he'd kept for most of his life. Between the passage of time and the chaos of moving the base from Yavin IV to Hoth, keeping those secrets was about to get a lot harder. But maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world

My entry for the 2022 Kalluzeb Minibang! I'd had the hc of Kallus being partially non-human for a while, and it was really fun to finally write a story to go with it. Plus it has some amazing art!

April

Title: Running Through My Veins Like Sin

Fandom: The Guest (Choi Yoon/Hwa-pyung)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 32.2k (on-going)

On GOD I am going to finish this fic eventually, I promise agdkfjdh. I absolutely writing Yoon in this fic and I have a wonderful arc planned out for him, so I AM going to finish it. I just got distracted agdkd

Title: Comfort is a Heavy Blanket

Fandom: The Batman

Rating: General

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Alfred knew why Mr. Wayne had let an injured Carmine Falcone into his house to give him treatment, but that didn't mean he liked it. It was a dangerous situation, and the realization that five year old Bruce had witnessed all of it just made it worse

Oh The Batman. I saw you in theaters three times and you gripped me like a rabid animal. I absolutely loved Bruce and Alfred's relationship in this movie as well as the phenomenally Autistic Vibes(tm) of Battison

July (aka A Very Busy Month)

Title: With Words I Thought I'd Never Speak

Fandom: The Batman (Bruce/Martinez)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 24.6k (on-going)

Summary: In the year following the Riddler's attacks, Martinez somehow found himself involved at least peripherally with two of Gotham's odder figures: Batman and Bruce Wayne. For all his initial dislike of Batman, a year's worth of cases resulted in a somewhat grudging respect for the vigilante's intelligence and investigative skill, even if he never quite became any less strange and unsettling. Martinez developed a new found appreciation for Bruce Wayne as well, an odd but likeable man who was pleasant to work with in his own awkward way. During an investigation into a death possibly connected to Penguin, Martinez accidentally learns that the two odd characters he's spent an increasing amount of time interacting with over the past year are actually the same person, who's far more complex (and far more human) than he'd ever realized

If I wasn't prepared for the death grip The Batman had on my brain, I DEFINITELY wasn't prepared for falling into the Bruce/Martinez dumpster fire. I love them so much. I also got distracted while writing this fic, but I have the basic plot points mapped out, and on GOD I will finish this one too

Title: As Warm As Whiskey (And Ten Times Better)

Fandom: Inception (Arthur/Eames)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Watching Arthur get drunk was a process Eames had seen many times over the years, but that didn't make him enjoy it any less

It had been too long since I'd written for my Disaster Criminal Blorbos, but I was about to fix that lol. A short fic inspired by an Inception30DayChallenge prompt

Title: Such Great Heights

Fandom: Inception (Arthur/Eames)

Rating: General

Word Count: 51.5k

Summary: When the market crashed four years ago, things went to hell for a lot of people. Eames has done okay, though- his job as a reporter at the New York Herald Tribune was secure enough that he managed to keep it, and he was good enough at it that he made enough to get by. He has a strict rule, though: no photographers. Working with freelancers has always been a crapshoot, and it's only gotten worse over the past few years. When the Rockefellers insist on a photographer for the Tribune's upcoming story on their new building, though, Eames is forced to choose between dropping the best paying story he's had in four years or working with Arthur, the freelance photographer hired on the recommendation of Eames' editor, Dom. He's an odd man who clearly has a past and who, as Eames spends more time with him, is just maybe worth getting to know a bit better.

My entry for the 2022 Inception Big Bang! It was inspired by a combination of a real life photographer and a surprisingly fun horror movie about WWI zombie parasites (no parasites or zombies in the fic itself). I had a lot of fun writing it, and it has some amazing art!

Title: A Stranger's Kindness

Fandom: Inception

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Long before a reporter met a photographer in New York, a young woman found a soldier in a field in France.

The story of how Arthur and Mal met

A short prequel to Such Great Heights! Arthur and Mal's friendship wasn't a central part to the larger fic, but it was a relationship I found really interesting while developing the story and I wanted to expand on it a little more

Title: Relinquish

Fandom: Inception (Arthur/Eames)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Arthur liked to be in control, or at least on even footing with whoever he was interacting with. That was how he’d always been. Just…maybe not with Eames. The thought of letting someone else take control, letting Eames take control, was…different. Intriguing. Enticing. Enough so that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Maybe even imagining what it would be like, more often than he cared to admit over the recent weeks, and what had started as a bit of teasing had started to become more and more serious in his mind.

This one's literally just porn. I had a lot of fun writing it lol

Title: Taking the Leap

Fandom: Inception (Arthur/Eames)

Rating: General

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Personal information wasn't something easily or freely shared in the world of extraction. But sometimes the risk of vulnerability was worth it

Trans Arthur and nonbinary Eames my beloved ^-^ this is the first entry into what will eventually become a series

December

Title: Mile Deep Hollow

Fandom: Inception (Arthur/Eames)

Rating: General

Word Count: 60.6k

Summary: Eames had worked countless jobs with Arthur over the years, enough that he had long since picked up on Arthur's on-job habits. Long hours, little sleep, too much work shoved into too little time- that's just what Arthur was like on jobs. The Fischer job felt...different though. Arthur didn't usually start jobs looking this tired or worn down, and his insistence that he was fine didn't usually ring this hollow. It was worrying, and Arthur's increasingly unconvincing reassurances weren't doing much to help.

Everyone in extraction had their limits, even Arthur. And Eames knew he was getting close to seeing what those limits really were.

This is the fic I'm proudest of this year. Not only is it the longest fic I've ever published, but it was also one that had been sitting in my WIPs folder for 2 or 3 years. I really loved the concept but had gotten distracted and never ended up finishing it at the time. I'm actually really glad I waited because I think I'm a stronger writer now, and this fic ended up better for it. It's one of the angstier fics I've written while still having a happy (or at least very hopeful) ending, and I'm really proud of how it ended up turning out

And that's it! Adjusting to my internship work schedule was a process so unfortunately that cut down on the amount of time/brain power I could spend writing, but I'm still super proud of what I put out this (last?) year. To ever increasing skills and another year of good writing!

-Your Local Trash Goblin

[sergeanthopeless]

🥺😈⛔️🌞💌💖🦅🤗🧠🤩

Wow! This is quite the to-do list. I hope it’s okay if I skip the ones that have already been addressed in other asks for this game.

🥺  Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Does frothing, rabid fangirling count as feels? I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it does. It that case, I am the absolute biggest sucker for a well-written confrontation full of tension. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but particularly when our stern yet stoic Seteth gets really worked up, I’m just over here like *insert Avatar-style foaming fangirl here*

⛔️  Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

LOTS, lol. I’m holding on to several of them in the hopes that they end up useful or I feel inspired to revisit them someday, but one that probably won’t go anywhere is labeled as an “Ender’s Game AU” in my notes:

What if Byleth was a real person in the modern world? What if Fire Emblem: Three Houses wasn’t just a game? And what if, when Byleth’s avatar S-supported Seteth, they got married in real-life? The modern AU self-insert-but-not-a-self-insert that only 1 person asked for.

Byleth is a mid-twenties college graduate working a mediocre job, currently single, a Fire Emblem fan, and using FE3H as a means of escape

She S-supports Seteth because she thought it would be funny to seduce the uptight dragon DILF character

It’s all fun and games until said uptight dragon DILF shows up at her door with a familiar ring around his finger and a teenage daughter in tow

Byleth finishes playing FE3H. Start the fic with italicized quotes from Seteth’s S-support, have Byleth sighing over the lines and audibly responding to him

A few days to a week later, Seteth shows up at her door.

“Byleth,” he says with a breathless smile. Byleth panics and slams the door in his face. She puts her back to the door and hyperventilates. Seteth speaks through the door. “You are Byleth Eisner, correct? Do I have the wrong address?”

It must be her imagination. There’s no way there’s a man outside her door who happens to look exactly like an IRL version of the Fire Emblem character Seteth aka Saint Cichol. Or maybe it’s just a very weird coincidence. She cracks open the door cautiously. “And who are you?”

“Ah, do I look that different to you? I understand this must be something of a shock, but if you will allow me, I shall explain everything. My name is Seteth Cichol.”

She slams the door again. And then hears a second voice:

“Dad, I want to meet Byleth!” Wait. It couldn’t be. She cracks the door again. And sees a twelve-year-old girl who is the spitting image of…

“You wouldn’t happen to be named ‘Flayn,’ would you?”

“That’s my middle name! My full name is Cethleann Flayn Cichol.”

Byleth looks around for a hidden camera. “This has to be a joke. You’re filming right now, right?”

“Byleth, if you are not comfortable receiving us in your home, we can meet on more neutral ground.”

Byleth realizes a few things in that moment: 1) She’s not wearing makeup. She’s in an old black band tee shirt and jeans with her messy green hair not so much as pulled back. 2) Her house is a wreck.

She must be dreaming, she concludes. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dreamed about Fire Emblem characters.

Eventually (somehow) she agrees to talk to them in the nearby park. She packs her taser, wears her brass knuckles disguised as a punk set of rings, and a knife in her combat boots for good measure. It seems unlikely, but if this was some kind of scheme and the girl was being used as bait to make her feel more comfortable before she got kidnapped and turned into a sex slave…

Seteth shows her rather convincing video footage of real-life versions of places she’s seen: Garreg Mach monastery, the Imperial Palace at Enbarr,

Apparently now Byleth’s the archbishop of the Church of Seiros and the Hero-Queen of United Fódlan. Seteth has come to pick her up for her coronation. Turns out, Fódlan is a real place and it exists (not on any map she’s seen, as its existence is kept fairly secret) and Byleth virtually piloted their war. How is she going to explain this to her dad?

At some point she says, f*** it, sure, it sounds better than my current job anyway. If this really is a scam, they’re doing an absurdly good job of it.

🌞  Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I used to prefer evening/night, but lately I’ve been preferring late morning since that’s when I have the most mental energy.

💌  How do you feel about comments and feedback?

Comments are the lifeblood of any fic writer. Bury me in them! While comments aren’t everything, I love connecting with my readers, and the validation is a very unique kind of drug that has kept me going long past the point when I thought I’d have fanfiction out of my system. And from what I can tell, just about every single fanfic writer out there feels the same. So try to make a goal out of commenting on every single fic that you enjoy, even if it’s just emojis or thanking the writer for their story.

As for feedback, I welcome feedback, but only when solicited or when it comes from a person I’ve asked for feedback before. Providing “constructive criticism” out of nowhere on someone’s art or writing is just plain rude, regardless of how it’s intended.

💖  What made you start writing?

It’s just part of me, a natural part of how I express myself and interact with the world around me. Some of my earliest memories are from when I was 4-5ish and writing “stories” that were just stapled-together piles of scrap paper marked with squiggles and decorated with illustrations. While I’ve taken breaks from writing in the past, I always manage to return to it — usually it will burst from me, like something fermented that has been left corked for too long. 

🤗  What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Write for the joy! You don’t have to put it out for the world to see (I know I definitely have fics that will never see the light of day), but if you want to go “public” with it, do it just to share your love for the characters and fandom. Don’t base your self-worth or judge your fic based on the kudos or comments or bookmarks that it gets. Acknowledgement and validation are great, but at the end of the day, fanfic is about having fun and being self-indulgent with a piece of media/characters that you love. If you have other motivations, fanfic is going to burn you out really fast.

🧠  Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

Seteth — I don’t care what the canon says, I don’t believe his statement about having “lost the ability” to transform. He can totally still transform into his dragon alter ego, even if he’s just experiencing a temporary block.

🤩  Who is your favorite character to write?

Seteth! I love spending time in this man’s head. He has so much depth and history, which means that the headcanon potential is essentially unlimited. He cares so much about his family, but he’s also traumatized by war and loss, and he’s got all these secrets on top of it all! I’m not articulating myself well (seriously, it would take an essay to explain all the things I love about writing Seteth) but he’s just such a compelling character.

[twfarlan]

Damn but I miss this crew. Wild nights, chummers.

Alt text for those looking for it:

Okay, sit back, cause y'all ain't gonna believe this drek. Hand to sky, this happened exactly as I'm going to describe.

I'm driving the van, which Rook has named "Harold." I legitimately do not want to know why. Rook's passed out in the back, as is Dex who has learned that there's a reason the shake machine at Stuffer Shack is meant to be broken. (He's calling it "Suffer Shack" and I cannot argue.) Butch is polishing her suit or something; lady, I have a tailor in Missoula that you DESPERATELY need to meet. Deadeye is performing surgery on that frickin drone, mounting the Eye of Sour-bun on it. Damn wiring smoke is worse than the leftover Meat Haters pizza Butch claimed. There's a reason no one else had touched it. Dandelion sprouts do not belong on deep dish pizza.

We get a call from Mr. Smuggler Guy, something I may regret. Wants something smuggled, there's a shock. Oh, he wants a LOT of it smuggled. Oh, we have to pick it up. Oh and we probably need to steal it. From the people who stole it in the first place. It's bound for a clinic in Minneapolis-St. Paul, a place where literally nothing and no one else is bound for. I'm thinking of blocking Guy's number.

We pick up a call from a femme of military bearing whom I've decided in hindsight to refer to as "Uniformed Asskicker." She's got field intel and an address, so she's already ahead of us. We park at the Stuffer Shack across from the place we're going to hit to review the plan: she's going in to rough things up, and then we come in like a horde of rabid squirrels. Great plan.

Rook wakes up about the time I drive Harold through the gate and Tokyo drift one orc ganger onto his ass. This would be just in time to see Deadeye kick the back doors of the van open, flip up onto the roof, and start preparing to lasso a semi. Seriously. Butch slings a fierce spell at some concrete that was insulting her, or we can admit she missed. I pull up to the driver's side of the semi, which Deadeye swings over next to planning to hogtie it or some damn thing. Butch takes another shot at the gangers coming our way, this time blasting what I can assume is the next pothole the yard owner will have to fix in the tarmac. (coughwhiffeditcough)

Deadeye sticks that revolver of hers in the face of the semi driver who apparently forgot how to start a push-button semi... well paid rigger, right there. Dude thinks he can grab a gun outta his face, so Deadeye talks cowboy shit and drills him one all over the inside of the cab. Rook has her CDL, thank the spirits, and Deadeye has to sit in the wet spot. Me, I warned Butch to cover her ears, cause Ares makes a shout when he speaks. Damn near strips the clothes off that poor guy I shot. Butch hears the glory of the coming of the bells of St. Mary or some equally tormented metaphors, but still managed to glower at the guy so hard that his soul withered and died. His buddy, seeing the better part of valor, runs headlong into Uniformed Murdergirl, and that's the end of his story.

After the most exciting stuffing of a shack that joint had ever seen, we roll the frag up the highway for a couple of hours. Deadeye is treating us to round 84 of Seelie Dan or Dr. John and the Electric Mayhem or whatever off-key Western mess she was singing, when lo and behold, we find ourselves making a new friend! Mr. Five-Oh pulls over the semi; I can't imagine what made it stand out aside from being graffitied to death by NeoScum and being stolen. I mean, we stole it from people who stole it; doesn't that cancel out? Double negative or something? Butch is sleeping through this and refuses to believe me, but Deadeye was hiding in the sleeper cabin and heard the whole thing. Rook... gave this poor rookie smokey a line of such radioactive bullshit that it made him reconsider being a cop. He walked away; he left his car, man. She punched him in his will to live as a human being. Last I saw him, he was walking off the highway into the woods to join a sasquatch commune. I quit as the resident liar; Rook is Mes ti'Dungmouthiesh: she follows the Way of the Bullshit Artist.

Hand to heaven, y'all. If I'm lying, I'm dying. ... At least, if I'm lying about this. Don't pin me down on anything else right now.

-- Will Rill Hetrick, no regerts (except about deafening Butch; gomen-nasai, omae.)

[soulmate-game]

Hawkmoth was a bitch, and Marinette meant that with every fiber of her soul. Fu was also a bitch, and Marinette actually had good memories of the guy. Not many, but she had some. The fact that the guy got two ten-year-olds to become super heroes and fight a supervillain for him kinda soured those memories, though. But with Chat Noir not allowed to leave his house? Yeah, even as young as they were it only took about a year to find out who HawkMoth was and another year to take him down.

Except, that left Marinette alone. The final battle took her mom away, and Chat had to move out of Paris after his dad was arrested. Luckily Jagged allowed her and her papa to move into his house in Gotham, and everything was…

Well, it was okay. For about a month.

Then her dad was gone too, and she had no way to talk to Jagged, and the police were scaring her—

Yeah, that was the basic order of events that led to where she was now. Pushing fourteen years old, ex-superhero, protector of a magical box of gods, stealing the tires off of a very nice motorcycle.

Marinette was tempted to just take the whole thing, she loved bikes and knew she could drive it. But the thing had more security than she knew what to do with, and the fact that it belonged to Red Hood… she didn’t want to deal with trackers today, thanks. So the tires it was.

Should she maybe care more about the fact that she was stealing from a vigilante with a violent streak? Maybe. Did she? Hell no. For all she knew, maybe Red Hood was a bitch too. (Yes, she was still learning English slang. She was fluent by educational standards, but learning how to curse in a foreign language was fun and she still had a little bit to go. Her few street friends were very happy to help).

A shadow dropped down in front of her, and Marinette’s hero instincts kicked in. The tire iron she was using cut through the air, slamming right into the side of Red Hood’s knee.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Hood,” Batman’s voice grumbled over the comms, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone else who was on the comms. It wasn’t as gruff as he usually sounded, in fact it almost sounded like… he was trying not to laugh?

“Did you get gassed by Joker?” Dick asked before Jason got a chance to respond. “Need backup?”

“No,” Batman responded, sounding a little more composed. “Not a rogue. But Hood, I need you to join me at my location as soon as possible.”

Finally getting the chance to talk, Jason responded a little warily; “Sure, B. Wait,” he blinked at the location that was sent to him. “Isn’t that where my bike is parked?”

Batman didn’t respond at first, only the sound of labored breathing— again, as if he was trying not to laugh. “Just get here, Hood.”

Sighing, but not too mad since the night had been fairly quiet so far, Jason decided to humor the old man and head over. When he could see the cape-clad back of Batman, he easily leapt over the last roof and sauntered over.

“Okay, B,” he had his thumbs tucked in his pockets as he drawled. “What’s the issue?”

Batman was grinning. As in, actually showing amusement. And he just pointed down, straight at Hood’s bike.

Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet, turning to look. At first he didn’t see anything amiss, until he saw movement and looked harder. Oh. Oh, holy shit.

“Is that a kid?”

“Yep,” Batman’s grin grew.

“Is she… stealing my tires?” Hood was so, so glad he wore a helmet that hid his expression. Because… wow.

“Yep,” Batman finally lost his composure, chuckling. “This seems like Karma, don’t you think?”

“And you just watched her so you could rub it in,” Jason groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. Of course he would. Nobody knew it (except the other heroes who knew him) but Batman was a petty little jerk when he wanted to be. He bought the whole Daily Planet just to spite Clark, for crying out loud.

“Don’t adopt her,” Batman said as he stood up, patting Red Hood’s shoulder. “It looks like she’s almost done.”

“Shit,” Jason hissed, looking down to see that she was, actually, very close to being done. She had already had one tire completely free by the time he had arrived, and now she was only seconds away from getting the other one completely free.

He took a quick assessment— she was tiny, and really thin. Definitely a street kid, he thought, though he didn’t recognize her. He knew most of the street kids that stole to get by, nowadays, which meant she must have been fairly new. But even though she seemed to know what she was doing, her small frame made her take longer unscrewing the tires than it normally would have taken. Sure that she wasn’t a threat by any stretch of the imagination, he jumped down. His plan had been to startle her a little by showing up out of nowhere, but he didn’t want to scare her too badly. Just make her jump a little.

But he had underestimated her, it seemed. Without wasting a second, she jumped up and swung her tire iron at his knee. He cursed, she was a lot faster than her had been expecting. He was able to move so that the weapon only clipped the side of his knee, his knee pad thankfully taking the worst of it. She still hit hard enough to make him stumble and hiss in pain though, which was an accomplishment.

That’s when she abandoned her weapon and her tires, darting to try and escape only for Batman to drop down and block her escape. Though really, it was the grin Batman had that scared the girl most of all, apparently, making her slowly back away from him.

“Please stop smiling,” she begged with a faint French accent to her words. “It is not natural.”

That made Red Hood laugh, already recovered and right behind her. He plopped a gloved hand on her head.

“I know, it’s creepy right?” He joked. “What’cha doin’ stealing my tires, kid? I kinda need them to drive anywhere,” he was careful to keep his voice light and devoid of any anger. He wasn’t really upset, all told. It would be hypocritical of him if he was.

She looked between the two vigilantes for a moment, clear intelligence behind those bright blue eyes as she seemed to consider something. Suddenly she pulled away from Red Hood and stepped away from his reach, straightening up and trying to look tall.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said as firmly as she could. “My father was Tom Dupain, he was killed in a mugging three months ago. We were living in a house that our family friend leant to us after my mother’s death six months ago, and we moved here from Paris. I haven’t been able to contact him, and the police… I don’t trust them,” she admitted, clearly seeing this as the chance she had been waiting for. “I have been living on the streets since my father died. I am sorry for trying to steal your tires, Monsieur Red Hood. But it was a risk I had to take.”

“Did you expect us to catch you?” He asked, crossing his arms as he re-evaluated the girl. She was a lot stronger than he had assumed earlier, both physically and mentally. She seesawed her hand to indicate ‘kinda’.

“Even if you didn’t, I could make good money off your tires,” she justified with a shrug. “To me, I would win either way.”

“Who is your family friend? Can he help you now, take you in?” Batman asked, moving forward and kneeling down to be closer to Marinette’s height. Neither he nor Jason had missed the part where she was an orphan, but they had expected that considering what they had caught her doing. And they both knew that she wasn’t likely to take any apologies they tried to offer very well. It was best not to show pity, or she might get angry.

Marinette frowned. “... Our family friend is Jagged Stone. He lets me call him Uncle Jagged,” she told them, clearly expecting the disbelieving grunts they gave. “I mean it! You can call him, he might even be looking for me! I—“

“We know,” Hood assured her, now kneeling down as well. Man, she was short. “Calm down, we know you’re telling the truth. Jagged has made several public announcements about his missing honorary niece, we just didn’t recognize your name right away. And Jagged doesn’t have access to very many pictures of you, those he does have the Mayor isn’t allowing him to show because that spineless jackass—“

“Language, Hood.”

“—Cares more about keeping bad press off the air than finding a kid, even if it’s a world famous rockstar who’s asking. That’s probably why you haven’t heard anything, the mayor’s keeping it off the radio and not many reporters are brave enough to take the story and get on his bad side.”

“Oh…” Marinette took a deep breath, fighting the tears that were threatening to rise up. “He has been looking…” she sniffled, curling in on herself a little. “Can you take me to him?”

“I think we can do that,” Batman agreed, standing up. “I’ll contact him. Red Hood, can you handle everything here until I give you a place to meet up with Jagged Stone?”

Jason nodded. “No problem, B. Come on, little rabid pixie. Step one of gettin’ you back to your uncle is to help me fix my bike back up.”

Marinette sighed, shoulders dropping. “All my hard work, undone…” she playfully complained. But in the end she didn’t argue or fight against it, she just sat down and helped him reattach his tires.

All the while, Jason’s family kept teasing him over the comms. Clearly they were also thoroughly amused by the cosmic display of karma.

“...Monsieur Hood,” Marinette asked once they were done repairing the motorcycle and he had given her his too-big extra helmet. He tilted his head a bit to show he was listening. She squirmed. “Can… can we stop by my hideout? I have something really important I have to get.”

Jason smiles gently under his mask. She might not have been a street kid for very long, but she really did bring back some memories for him. He got on his bike and held a hand out to her.

“Sure thing kid. Wanna grab something to eat after? Can’t have a reunion on an empty stomach.”

She gave him a lopsided smile— not quite overjoyed, but definitely hopeful and thankful. Maybe this was the end of her streak of bad luck, she could only hope.

“Only if you don’t mind, Monsieur Hood,” she agreed before taking his hand and letting him help her onto the bike.

“No skin off my back, pixie,” he assured her. Then they were off. He followed her directions until they got to an abandoned building about three miles away, not in a good part of town at all but at least not in crime alley. Marinette easily led him through the building, skirting around other piles of ratty blankets and up broken stairs until they got to the badly-maintained top floor. She led him over to an almost invisible door in the concrete wall that pulled out to reveal what was probably a broom closet once upon a time. It was crowded with what looked like junk and empty boxes, along with a few blankets and two or three changes of clothes that were clearly her’s. A few belongings scattered around— a book, a small pink purse, and… Marinette came out of the pile of mess holding what had clearly been a very carefully hidden box. She also grabbed the purse and slung it over her shoulder, but didn’t seem worried about anything else.

Jason frowned at the box. It wasn’t that big, but it was clearly made of old wood. There were intricate carvings that were painted pink, in a symbol that was itching at the back of his mind. He recognized that symbol, but from where?

“Ready to go, kid?” He asked as he thought about it, getting a nod from Marinette. Twenty minutes later they were at a Batburger, sitting in a shaded booth that couldn’t be seen from the street.

She never let the box out of her sight. She kept it on the seat next to her, and Jason noticed that she tried to keep one hand on it at all times. But when she spoke, now her French accent stood out to him even more than before. But why—?

And then it clicked. Paris. Hawkmoth. Ladybug, Chat Noir, magic artifacts called Miraculous. Wonder Woman had raised a fuss when the heroes disappeared, declaring that something was wrong but she couldn’t put her finger on what. Then the magic users they trusted were called in, and returned from Paris with the grim news that the former Guardian of those artifacts had activated a failsafe and passed the guardianship on to someone else while erasing his own memories at the same time. But nobody knew who he could have passed it on to, so Batman had been given the green light to do all the research he and his team could into the Miraculous box to try and help track it down.

And here it was. The carvings were in pink now, which might have been the “cosmetic change” that Constantine had mentioned might happen when the box changed guardians. He had found the box full of super powerful magical artifacts… in the hands of a newly orphaned street kid who couldn’t have been older than fourteen at best.

What the hell?

“...” Red hood reached into his pocket and pulled out an old receipt and a sharpie. He scrawled on the back of the receipt and handed to Marinette. The girl was halfway into a bite of her burger when he did, and blinked at him owlishly before swallowing and cautiously reaching out to grab it. She frowned at the numbers scrawled there.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“My contact info,” he explained. “I won’t ask questions about why you have that box,” he watched her instantly stiffen but continued as casually as he could; “but it doesn’t matter. You can call me if you ever need help with anything, kid. Help with that box, help if you get in trouble in Gotham again, or even if you’re having a bad day. You can call me for whatever, got it? I don’t care if you think it’s stupid, if you can’t talk to anyone else in your life you can always call or text me and I’ll do whatever I can. Got it?”

“...” Marinette sniffled for a second and looked down at the table in silence for a second. “... what if I want your motorcycle?” she joked, but the watery tone of her voice gave her away.

Jason laughed, patting her head. “I need my bike, but we can talk about getting you your own once you are old enough to get a license. You almost done? Bats says that Jagged is ready to meet you, I can take you to him right now.”

“Yeah, lets go!” she was newly energized and shoved the last bite of burger into her mouth greedily. “And Red Hood?” She asked as they headed out to where he had parked.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Permanent tag list (I remembered it this time!)

@rosalineandrosemary @neakco @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @trippingovermyfeet @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @bigpicklebananatree @fantasylover-92 @prongs-flowers @jumpingjoy82 @prettylittlebutterflie @queenz-z @literaryhiraeth @waffelyunsure @deathssilentapproach-blog @waiting247 @theirlmikan @unoriginalmess

[pars-ley]

One night

Pairing: Jimin x Female reader

Summary: When you meet a previous one night stand on a speed dating night, how can you possibly resist another go with the guy who turns you on beyond belief.

Genre: Strangers to lovers au / Speed dating au / One night stand au / Smut / Drabble

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Oral f and m receiving / Rimming / Anal fingering / Bathroom sex / Protected sex / Sex from behind / Nipple play /Jimin with nipple piercings / Explicit language / Spitting / Swallowed oral cumshot / Mentions of sex toys

Word count:1.8k

Notes: This is a request for @a-violet-suga-kookie​ sorry it took me so long! I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to @yutasgalaxy for helping me photoshop the pic for my banner.

Beta: Thank you to @eatjeanjin​ your enthusiasm and suggestions helped a lot

You walk begrudgingly into the room following behind your friend, tables for two all spaced apart and a big timer at one end. 

She smiles nervously at you and you return an encouraging thumbs up. As soon as her back is to you your eyes roll at the thought of what you are about to do. Speed dating is one of your worst nightmares, but in order to show support to your newly single and emotionally vulnerable friend, you put that aside.

"Welcome, please take a seat at a table and get comfortable. I shall bring in the other participants and we can start." announces the female host, with a smile large enough it looks almost painful.

You sit down at an adjacent table to your friend and give her a reassuring wink, before the door opens and the timer has begun. 

Mundane questions and boring responses are leaving you wishing you stayed at home in your pyjama’s and a date with your vibrator. At least you would be guaranteed satisfaction.

Suddenly, striking blonde hair catches your eye a couple of tables down and as you glance over he's already looking at you.

His full lips curve into a delicious one sided smile before returning his attention to his date. 

Park Jimin. Your thighs press together automatically, recalling the night you spent with him. Every perfect detail of it and him, sails seductively behind your eyes. The one night stand that was never meant to happen but did and blew your mind.

It feels like time stops, while you wait for another agonising two rounds for him to reach your table. 

"Well, well, well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He says, as he sits down in such a commanding fashion you can't help but find your bottom lip tucked painfully between your teeth.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you."

His pupils expand at your words as his eyes trace over your outfit, pausing briefly at your cleavage. "What brings you here?"

"I'm here for moral support for a friend." You tilt your head to your right and he glances at her. "You?"

"Would you believe me if I said the same? Dark hair, tattoo sleeve and big doe eyes." You look behind him and see who he means, recalling your conversation with him to have been the least boring here.

"What are the chances?" You laugh.

He watches you for a moment, a smile playing at the edges of his perfect mouth.

"You never left me your number." He interjects your thoughts.

"You never gave me yours." You quip.

"You didn't give me a chance." He raises an eyebrow at you. A simple move that he manages to make devastatingly sexy. "I woke up and you had vanished without a trace. All I had was your name and the taste of your pussy on my lips and you can't imagine how much that can drive a man crazy."

Hearing him say something so filthy so casually had your cunt throbbing violently with desire, a pool of liquid-want starting in your underwear.

"I would have liked to call you and see you again." He presses.

"I'm here now." You reply, leaning onto the table; your breasts swelling even more with the movement.

His hand on your thigh under the table surprises you but your heart responds instantly pounding wildly with need. "Meet me in the big toilet as soon as the break starts," the pleading in his voice is too hard to resist, not that you were planning on it anyway. 

He got up swiftly and just like the wind, he was gone. You receive a few looks from neighbouring tables, your friend being one of them, but you just shrug and smile innocently.

The much awaited break time was finally announced and you can't scramble off of your chair fast enough, out of the door before anyone else is even away from their tables. But disappointment pangs when you read the "OUT OF ORDER" note taped on the toilet door. Frantically glancing around, you decide to chance knocking. Much to your delight, the door opens and you are pulled in briskly by the hand.

The door is closed and locked as you're backed against it.

"God, do you have any idea how often I've thought about you?" He whispers, so close his breath fans across your face, pulling you in. His eyes burning with a need so fierce you're winded from the impact.

"Probably about as often as I've thought about you." Your fingers already fumbling with the button on his jeans.

His mouth crashes against yours, tongue eagerly dancing with yours as you become a mass of grappling hands and frantic kisses. He pulls away leaving you gasping for air but wanting more of his soft lips on yours. He pushes up your leather skirt and yanks your underwear down, pulling it off each ankle as he sinks onto his knees. 

He throws one leg over his shoulder and looks up at you. 

"Trust me?"

You nod and he wastes no time doing the same to the other leg, taking all of your weight as he plunges his mouth straight onto your needy pussy.

The sinful sound that vibrates through him as he tastes you has you moaning in response.

You're thrown down memory lane instantly, the way his lips and tongue explore every crevice, how he sucks just enough on your clit drawing his name from your lips like a spell. Even his tight grip on your buttocks keeping you firmly in place, makes you rabid with lust. You start grinding against him, unable to control your body. He moans against you, making you quiver signalling that familiar tight pull coming closer. But before you can let go, your feet are returned to the ground - legs wobbling underneath you - and he's turning you, your face pressing hard against the door. You feel his warm, wet tongue glide along your arsehole, the sensation nearly shooting you through the roof but he holds you firmly in place, spreading your cheeks harshly as he does.

Your toes curl as his fingers wrap around you and he begins massaging your clit. Your heavy breaths creating a pattern of condensation across the door.

And then his grip on you is gone and you feel unsteady as he stands and pulls his wallet out of his jeans pocket. 

When you see the glint of the foil wrapper, excitement blooms in your already tight core; coiled and ready to spring. Ripping it open with his teeth, he pushes down his boxers and glides the condom onto his generous erection. 

He wastes no time in pressing you back up against the door and sliding into you, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pauses there for a moment and you feel something hot on your arsehole that quickly turns cold as the air hits it and you realise he's spat on you. The thought has you clenching around his rock hard cock.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" He says breathlessly. "Do you like this?" He asks as he slowly pushes a finger inside your rear.

"Ohh, yes." You moan.

He starts rocking his hips and finger in a simultaneous rhythm. Feeling so full and deliciously stretched had you dripping off of him. Your nails, clinging onto the door frame, embedding and no doubt leaving little crescents in the wood.

You feel the build up take hold to a point you can't return from as you tighten around him.

"Oh yes, baby, let me feel you cum around this cock." He whispers in your ear as you unravel. Spasming uncontrollably and calling his name from behind his fingers now caged around your mouth, the action just heightening all the sensations you feel. 

As your orgasm subsides, your legs trembling, he pulls out leaving you feeling empty. You turn to face him and his mouth is on you instantly.

"You're so fucking sexy." He says against your lips. 

Your fingers find his shirt, undoing the buttons and pushing it off his shoulders. The glint of something in the light catches your attention, as you hold him at arm's length and admire the sight before you.

"They're new." You say, genuine surprise in your voice.

He looks down at his pierced nipples and back up to you with the cockiest smirk. "You like ‘em?"

You shake your head, "I love them."

He grins at you pulling you in for another kiss as you can't resist pinching and rolling one of them between your fingers. 

He jolts but moans against you and bucks his hips, his dick pressing desperately against you, aching to be touched.

Your lips go straight for the silver bar, sucking it hastily into your mouth. The sound of it hitting against your teeth and the feel of the cold metal inside your mouth, all of it spurring you on.

"Go and sit down." 

You order, the light of lust although briefly sated had not died down.

He puts the lid on the toilet seat down and does as you say. 

On your knees, you gently slide the condom off and delve onto him with the same urgency he showed you. When he gasps and his hand goes straight to your hair, you can feel his wildness beneath you. Hips bucking up matching your rhythm as you take him in until he's hitting the back of your throat with every suck.

"Look at me." He whispers and as soon as your eyes hit his, he becomes a shaking mess.

"Oh fuck. Yes, yes, that's it." He strains before his hot, salty orgasm releases into your mouth. You swallow as he grinds into you, holding your hair off your face and watching every movement you make.

He helps you up once he's done and you both tidy yourselves up. 

"So, see anyone you like out there?" He asks as he does up his shirt.

You shake your head and scoff. "No. What about you?" You hate the small, sick feeling in your stomach at the possible answer. He's just some guy you've fucked twice, that's all.

"No, I couldn't keep my eyes off you." 

When his gaze meet yours in the mirror it's sweet and gentle, a complete contrast to before.

"Listen," he turns to face you. "I know that one night stands are not ideal to start with but I'd really like to take you out to dinner?"

There's a hesitancy in his voice that intrigues you, a very vulnerable side to the confident man you're used to seeing.

"What about after this?" You reply.

His eyes light up. "Yeah, sounds great." 

You smile awkwardly at each other and he kisses you on the cheek as if 5 minutes ago he didn't have his lips smothered on your arsehole. 

[ratmonky]

Stranger Danger

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: non-con

AO3 Link

Don’t trust strangers on the internet.

Just like how they taught you not to walk off with someone you didn’t know, it was the first thing your parents lectured you about when you started using the family computer. Simple. Stay away from the people who tried to befriend you because they were probably out to get you.

That was why you were wary of making friends online when you first started using the computer, scared that someone might kidnap you through the screen.

Pfft, you had quite an imagination when you were little.

Your parents were also a little too paranoid, of course, you had to be careful on the internet as they told you but there was nothing wrong with making friends. The internet brought people of the same interests together and it helped many people like you who had a hard time making friends start talking to others. Especially with helping you find many sorcerer students like yourself.

You had many friends now, some you video chatted and some you even had met in person.

Today, you were going to meet another one of your friends in person. Another sorcerer college student around the same age as you. You had met Kokichi on one of those sorcerer dating websites and instantly hit it off from the moment you had met before becoming more than friends.

Although his webcam never worked or how he was always out of breath while talking to you, it didn’t stop the two of you from falling in love.

Kokichi lived in Kyoto, far away from where you lived, and trying to manage a long-distance relationship was hard. That was why he had suggested that the two of you met in Kyoto and tried to see if you felt the same about him after meeting in person. If you liked him even after meeting him in person, then your relationship could progress into something more.

You blushed thinking about moving in with him. Ahh, wouldn’t that be wonderful!

Shaking your head you tried to stop yourself from daydreaming and park your car where Kokichi had told you to. Apparently, the parking rules in Kyoto were different than in your city, you had to find a parking lot almost far outside of the city so you wouldn’t get a ticket.

It took you two hours to get here using the highway. Although you would have rather taken the train or bus, it was a lot faster to drive. It took you another fifteen minutes to get to your meeting point with him after you took a taxi.

Kokichi didn’t pick up his phone. You had been trying to reach him since this evening. You weren’t sure if he was already standing next to the alley of the bar your cab driver dropped you off a little while ago or if he was late.

Sick of waiting, you took out your pack of cigarettes and walked deeper into the alley to check. After taking a cigarette out and putting it between your lips, you lit the tip, inhaling deeply.

You were going to scold him for making you wait. A laugh escaped you at the thought of Kokichi telling you how he had explained to you that he was taking the train and it would be slower than you driving here or something along those lines.

Well, it would be a nice icebreaker.

While you were busy smoking and lost in your thoughts, sharp pain to the side of your head made you stumble forward. You dropped your cigarette and before you knew it your knees gave up under you, making you crumple to the ground as your vision went dark.

~~~

You froze. Not wanting to move or open your eyes until you could recall what had happened.

There were faint sounds of grunting. The next thing you noticed was the smell. Earthy, cold, and coppery. You tried to identify the foreign smell as you become aware of the tingling from between your legs. It had started to hurt, your hips felt sore and your eyelids felt heavier than usual.

The grunting sounds were soft and you could easily recognize the other sounds aside from it. It was like gears moving, a machine, closer to the sounds your door made when it wasn’t oiled up well, creaking and kinda ringing...

You had probably left the television on, slowly, you opened your eyes.

All you saw was dark, your back felt cold against something metallic. Your back was being roughly rubbed against your metal. What? It was hard for you to understand what was going on. With a pathetic attempt to move your legs, you only felt them being held tightly. There were splashing sounds, your ass was splashing against water. Tears started streaming down your face. you still couldn’t comprehend what was happening but you could feel it. You started to panic as the sudden realization of something thick and firm moving hastily inside you hit you hard.

Opening your eyes, you stared at a man in bandages who was kneading the soft flesh of one of your breasts, his mouth on the other, sucking your nipple in his mouth. You felt his hot tongue swirl around your nipple and an involuntary moan left your lips.

The sharp smell of the medical liquid made you nauseous as you remembered what had happened. But you had to stay calm and try to understand where you were.

You began to panic, trying to move your muscles but you could barely move. Strained, fear of the darkness drove you to move your limbs slightly. You threw your head back in shame and noticed the robot that was holding you instead of looking at the man inside the bathtub of medical liquid. Finally having your mind schooled back online, you started to notice your surroundings. First of all, you were in a cave-like place, being held by a robot by the back of your knees and the robot was moving you up and down on this man’s-

Another moan left your lips when the man’s cock hit a good spot. Glaring at the man, you tried moving your arms that hung slack by your sides but your limbs were weaker than you had realized. Your legs wouldn’t move either, your entire body felt sore.

There was nothing you could do as the robot lowered you up and on this man’s cock other than try to understand what had happened.

You stayed limp in the robot’s arms and took it as your assaulter kept furiously fucking you like a rabid dog in heat with the help of the robot. While the robot lowered you onto his cock and leaned forward for a second, you felt his hand reach to the back of your head and pull you down forcefully to crash your lips against yours as he used the same hand to run his fingers through your hair. He let out a quiet groan into the kiss and lolled out his tongue to lick your face, leaving a trail of his drool that chilled your skin. His hand in your hair crept between your bodies and he flicked a finger on your clit.

Jolting, you bit back a moan.

“The pictures on your profile didn’t do you any justice,” he spoke, planting kisses on your chest. “You’re so much prettier in person.”

Out of a sudden, it clicked.

“Kokichi?” His name broke into a moan as the robot slammed you down onto his cock. The robot was still bouncing you on his cock but to him, it wasn’t enough, he needed more. He had to feel more of you.

The robot dropped you in the bathtub, on top of Kokichi with his cock deep inside you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck so you wouldn’t sink deeper into the bathtub. The medical liquid inside was cold, it made you shiver but Kokichi’s body was warm. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

“I can’t move my lower body without Mechamaru, I need you to comply.” His tone was impatient, the arm around you was trying to guide you to move your hips.

A grunt left you from the massive effort it took just to move your arm. Finally, you managed to move your arms, although it was heavy and almost impossible, luckily you succeeded. You shook your head, weakly pushing him away from yourself but as tiny, the bathtub was you didn’t have much space. Kokichi wasn’t going to let you move away from him either, he suddenly grabbed you and pulled you back, the liquid inside splashed from the force.

He groaned and you saw Mechamaru move again. The robot’s hands grabbed you from under your armpits, lifting you up and pushing you down onto Kokichi. He had his arm around you, moving your hips freely as he wanted since your weight had lightened thanks to his robot.

Your gummy walls clenched around his cock as you squirmed uselessly. He was breathing slowly and evenly while he carefully pulled you down for another sloppy kiss, paying no attention to your whimpers or the tears streaming down your face.

“You look so erotic when you cry,” he grunted, his hand moving to squeeze your cheeks together until your lips puckered. “Makes me wanna ruin you.”

You glared at him through your tears as he licked your tears that had streamed down to your cheeks before kissing you hungrily. He was inexperienced, you could tell from the way your teeth clashed and how desperately he tried to snake his tongue down your throat for no reason.

Mechamaru started frantically bouncing you on Kokichi’s cock, taking you by surprise. The irregular pace was gone, now, he was fucking you frenziedly, making sure that your gummy walls took the shape of his cock. After a particular spot his cock stroked, your pussy squeezed around him, causing you to moan into the kiss.

He broke the kiss, groaned loudly as your gummy walls started spasming around his cock. His bandaged hand went to grab your hip tightly to move you on his cock forcibly.

Medical fluid splashed and splattered on the ground each time you slammed yourself on his cock frantically with Mechamaru’s help.

You gasped in pleasure, your body was getting aroused. He must have noticed it because a smug grin spread on his lips before Mechamaru pounded you on Kokichi’s throbbing cock.

The knot of pleasure building in your gut quickly took over your senses, your gummy walls clenched around his cock and your muscles inside started pulsating.

Kokichi was caught off guard by your cunt trying to milk him for all he was worth. His cock twitched inside you as he lost control of Mechamaru who abruptly dropped you onto his cock. With a wanton moan, you wrapped your arms wrapped around him to balance yourself. His cock throbbed inside your pussy and thick spurts of cum burst inside your womb.

It continued coming out until you felt it overflow. As if he had been saving everything he got for this moment.

You went limp on his lap with his arm barely holding you up. Still, Kokichi managed to press a kiss against your temple, silently promising to keep you safe from the strangers on the internet from now on.

Or rather, he wanted to keep you for himself. Kokichi, as someone who had grown up on the internet, was desensitized to many things. He had no idea how women worked and most of the things he had learned about sex were from hardcore porn. Sometimes from even a more disturbing genre of porn. Having you here with him was something he had planned for a long time. He had been patient, patient, and patient. There was no way he was going to let you go. No, not when he finally had a taste of you. He wasn’t going to be only an internet friend or someone you met online who you got to be more than friends. He was going to be something a lot more than that. Perhaps, a boyfriend. Yeah, that had a nice ring to it.

One thing was for sure, the two of you weren’t going to be in a long-distance relationship anymore.

[takahero]

some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.” — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

[sukunasfourtheye]

Part 3 as promised 💦

TW: it’s boutta get rough and dirtyyyy

“So where do the cheerleaders usually exits from” Levi’s voice came out sounding bored as fuck, not indicating that he currently had all of his blood rushing to his cock, but Hange knew by the question alone what he had in mind. “It’s hard to say, maybe I know but I possibly could be wrong and that’d be soooo unfortunate wouldn’t it be?” Tch. Levi couldn’t stand Hange’s games but he wasn’t about to let them ruin this for him “Hange.” His voice came out cold and dead, letting them know that he was my in the mood to be toyed with. “You know, I think I just totally remember that they exit through the center and right under the bleachers because thats where the players parking is.” The words tumbled out from their mouth at a rushed pace, attempting to avoid any repercussions from their past response. “Ah see, you’re so good when you want to be.” Levi crooned as he yanked their ponytail so hard their head lay on his shoulder. He glanced over as he felt eyes boring down on him. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to avoid smirking at the dumb look on your face. Your eyes wide as you watched how aggressive he was with ‘his partner.’ You noticed he caught you staring and the red on your cheeks about drove him mad with hunger for you.

As the game concluded with a victory, fans erupted in cheers. You and the other cheerleaders raised your Pom Poms in the air, shaking them as you ran through the gate and into the center of the bleachers to run through into the parking lot. You followed in the same line as before, which placed you behind the whole team, making it easy for them not to notice as one hand grabbed you and pulled you so close to the body it was attached to that you could feel their breath as another hand clasped over your mouth. “It’s not polite to stare.” That voice was making pools in your panties as you knew that there was only one man you’d been staring at that night. You cheeks flushed crimson as his grip around your mouth and he pushed you into the brick wall that lay underneath the massive bleachers. Everyone from the game was filtering out the front so in the shadowy corner where you were, no one had noticed what was going. With one hand pinned above your head, you had subconsciously placed your other hand lightly on his chest to feign keeping him at a slight distance from you. His hot breath fanned your face, a hint of mint and something almost herbal hits your nose as he let out a deep chuckle looking at your hand “tch, I sure hope you know that this won’t stop me, but you can use your words if you really don’t. Although, the way you were looking at me wasn’t very polite so you at least should tell me what thoughts were running through you head while you stared at me.” The tips of your ears felt hot and you were certain your cheeks had discovered a new shade of red as you turn away from his intense stare, pressing your legs together as your thoughts from readier flashed across your mind. “Are you going to tell me?” You shook your head no vigorously as you kept your head turned away from him, eyes shut tightly to avoid seeing your own embarrassment. Levi grabbed your chin tightly with his thumb and index finger firmly moving your jaw to face him, your eyes opening wide with shock as he did so. “Are you going to stop me?” Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes widened at his words, but the wetness in your legs told you there was no way in hell you’d stop this man no matter what he wanted to do to you. You shook your head no slowly this time as his grip was still tight around your jaw and you didn’t want him to let go just yet, his eyes burning with lust as you indicated that he could have his way with you.

🍃- part 4?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

I’M SORRY I - I- I - I- *brain short circuits*

Commentary under the cut bc it’s so long because I’m absolutely OBSESSED PLEASE PART 4 I’m BEGGING

HOLY FUCKING SHIT 🍃 anon WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS BLESSING?????? You are a fucking GEM this is absolutely DELICIOUS…I am ACTUALLY turned on right now. YOU TURNED ME ON THATS HOW GOOD THIS IS..YOU HAVE SUCH A FUCKING TALENT FOR WRITING?!?!

Oh my god oh my god oh my god so many things I have to say about how amazing this is:

1) They/them pronouns do hange >>>

2) YOU WROTE LEVI SO WELL HERE YOU WRITE HIM BETTER THAN I EVER COULD UGH…..the way he’s SO FUCKING nonchalant and low key threatening meanwhile he’s about to lose his shit is sooooo sexy and SO IN CHARACTER. I hear him saying every piece of dialogue in my head bc it’s just so believable he would say those things. The way he was like “where do the cheerleaders get out” so disinterested by he actually really was rabid behind it all.

3) “it’s not polite to stare” I SCREAMEDDDDDDDD

4) “Are you going to tell me?” / “Are you going to stop me?” BRUH. When I tell you. In all seriousness. My legs got WEAK OH MY GOD. My 🐱 literally jumped this is SO SEXY and threatening and I can imagine him so clearly pinning me down and being like “are you going to stop me?” Like WOW what a sexy fucking thing to say to someone IM SCREAMIG

5) this is such a sexy fucking set up for smut like you cut this part off RIGHT when it was about to get juicy you got me foaming at the MOUTH

6) I love you

7) I wanna follow your blog if you have a smut account but I get if you wanna stay anon but omg I love you

[midnight-strays]

So you can choose which one to do for the grumpy affectionate starters,11. for Akutagawa or 14. for Dazai thank you~

Grumpy Prompt 11: “I crave your affection, but I crave your silence even more- shut up.”

The bags under your eyes felt heavier the longer you stared at the screen of your computer, tapping away at the keys without breaking the staring contest between yourself and the device. The words that spilled out onto the screen came out clear and precise, an exact recall of the assignment you had returned from just a couple hours before sitting down. Despite the clear recall and exact wording, nothing seemed to really process in your tired mind. The words held no meaning to you, you weren’t even sure if what you were writing was legible- you honestly were just assuming from many years of practice. All the same, you would need to review this report tomorrow to confirm that you hadn’t just told your boss to go fuck himself in ten different languages.

At last, you finally broke your concentration to pick up the mug beside you, taking in a mouthful of coffee, only to cough and gag as the cold liquid filled your mouth and ran down your throat in an involuntary gulp. “Oh god how long have I been sitting here?” you grumbled, putting the cold beverage aside and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, not wanting to taint your tastebuds further. Rubbing your tired, strained eyes, you leaned back into your desk chair with a heavy sigh, opening your eyes again once they felt comfortable enough to do so. They handed on the corner of your screen instantly. 11:47pm. It was late. You had returned at 6:00 and walked through your office doors at 8:00 after two meetings and a few briefings. With another heavy sigh, you pushed yourself up onto your feet, picking up your poor excuse for coffee and on the way towards your office door, tipped the remainder of the mug into a pot plant.

“Another cup of coffee, an extra hour on this report and I’ll call it a night,” you mumbled to yourself, reaching out for the doorhandle the moment three quick knocks sounded against the hard wood. Opening the door straight away may not have been the smartest move, giving the blonde woman on the other side a bit of a fright.

“Can I help you Higuchi?” Your question had the woman straighten up, composing herself.

“I was told to inform you that you can go home,” Higuchi explained, earning a blank stare and then a sigh. Oh god you wished you could go home. You haven’t slept in days, your body was sore and the only thing keeping you going right now was the small traces of caffeine lingering in your body.

“I would love to, but I have a report to write,” you countered, covering your mouth as a yawn pulled your further into the pool of desire to sleep.

“It’s an order from the boss. Go home.”

“I’m supposed to wait for Akutagawa. I was going to drive him home.”

“I will take care of that. Please go home and get some rest.”

Well, who were you to argue against that? As much as you wanted to finish things up here and take the executive home yourself, who knew how much longer it would be until that moment.

“Alright, you win,” you sighed out but gave her a small, thankful smile. “Thank you, Higuchi. I’ll buy you a drink sometime.” You turned around, dragging your feet back to your desk where you set down the mug- you could clean it tomorrow or whatever- and grabbed your coat from the back of your chair.

“That’s unnecessary but much appreciated. I’ll take my leave now,” the other woman hummed politely before turning around and disappearing back down the hall to wherever she came from or whatever she had to go next.

The next few minutes didn’t really stay with you. Your report was saved, you locked up your office and next thing you knew, you were stepping out of the elevator and into the underground parking lot of the Port Mafia headquarters. It did not take long for you to find your car, throw your things into it and begin your drive home. As you drove, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about going home. You had decided to be the one to take Akutagawa home tonight because he had been on a job much longer than you had and you knew that he had a tendency to push himself too far. Chances were, he’d return to HQ exhausted, roughed up and in a bad mood. Being his significant other, you had a better chance against that temper of his. You wished the best of luck to Higuchi.

You were asleep by the time Akutagawa stepped into your shared apartment. Face buried into the pillow, you were out like a light and didn’t hear the man moving through the apartment, putting his things down and heading to the bathroom to shower. He paused at the bathroom door- across the hall from the bedroom- and stared through the open door of the room, just checking that you were in fact home and asleep. It had been about a week since the two of you had slept together and although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he longed to be close to you again. That desire seemed to grow as he stared so he finally stepped into the bathroom to bathe.

He was quick in the shower, washing away the filth from his mission, dressing into his night clothes and finally, crawling into bed, where you finally began to stir. You stretched an arm out, inviting him into your sleepy embrace that he gladly moved into, finding comfort in the warmth your body provided to his. He wouldn’t call himself affectionate and neither would you. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was not an affectionate man, but he did enjoy the small moments that came with being in a relationship with you and he was willing to return affection when he felt like it.

“How was work?” You asked in a mumble, gently running your fingers through his slightly damp hair. “Typical… I took care of it as always. Nothing will get in my way,” Akutagawa sighed out in response, figuring the ‘conversation’ would end there.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Anything I should take care of before we go to sleep?” Okay, no, you weren’t going to leave it there. God he was too tired for this, but he answered you anyway.

“No. I’m fine.”

“What about food? When was the last time you ate?”

“I will eat in the morning. Go to sleep.”

There was a moment of silence and as Akutagawa pulled you closer to him, beginning to drift off, his breathing evening out. Finally. He could get some sleep.

“We should call in for a day off tomorrow. Write our reports at home or something,” you suddenly spoke, somehow still awake despite how exhausted you were. The pale man let out a heavy sigh and lifted his head to make eye contact with you, looking unamused.

“I crave your affection, but I crave your silence more- Shut up.”

There was another beat of silence before you opened your arms out for him again and with a small huff, he settled back down, taking this as a win. While he fell asleep to you running your fingers through his dark hair, you laid there with a sleepy smile, silenced by the confirmation that Akutagawa, the Silent Rabid Dog of the Port Mafia and your lover, craved your affection. How cute. Finally, comfortable and with your lover after being separated for the week, you were able to fall asleep, silence filling the apartment until the two of you were to wake in the morning.