#kinda long drabble??

[huntingrays]

pjo prompt: percy and jason have to go on a quest together, so they both decide to bring their respective partners (annabeth and leo). during the quest, they get kidnapped by monsters and percy and jason wake up in an arena. the monsters explain that they have their partners and in order to save them, they have to fight to the death, with the winner getting to leave alive with their partner, while the other is killed. however, the monsters are very shocked when percy and jason sit down and start calmly playing cards with each other. they’re not worried about their partners. instead, they’re worried for the monsters. they trapped annabeth and leo together, two of the smartest demigods. the girl who redesigned olympus and the boy who built a warship in six months. they were toast.

[ochibrochi]

spontaneous magic manifestation was NOT mentioned in the parenting handbook 😬

I know this isn’t how magic in dc works, but the fact that Damian’s ancestry includes some pretty powerful magic users is… INTERESTING 🤔? Drabble under the cut!

I wanna preface that I'M NOT SAYIN' that Damian should/does have magic powers, but there’s still so much unexplored potential with Damian's character, and the thought that he has a dormant adeptness in magic is somewhat compelling to me. Most importantly it would FREAK! BRUCE! OUT!!!!! What is this, magic puberty 😭??

By DC laws, anyone has the ability to learn magic, but it is also possible to be an innate ability. The Al Ghuls are no strangers to the occult-- Ra's has had increasingly been portrayed as a magic user, and the recent establishment of his mother being a sorceress/witch?? Even Talia dabbled in a bit of magic, I think. There is a catch that their power is suggested to be due to Lazarus exposure, but for arguments sake let's say the Al Ghul lineage is inherently proficient in magic (and Lazarus exposure simply enhances it).

I can't recall "magic" being a part of Damian's training/upbringing (I'm still slowly catching-up on Damian comics so apologies if I miss any canon examples of magic use). Not sure why Talia wouldn't want her little "heir to an ancient assassin empire baby" to learn magic, but it would at least give reason to Damian not knowing about his magic potential, or lack of interest in it.

Through the power of pseudo storytelling, what if Damian's encounter with Mother Soul could have triggered a manifestation of magic that was once dormant; like a pressure cooker waiting to explode with energy when it hasn't been given a safe outlet.

I've yet to read a satisfying arc where Damian truly gets to contemplate his Al Ghul roots outside of "dad is good guy, mum is bad guy". Damian's initial character growth stems from him running away from, and renouncing his association with the League (i.e. "I'm nothing like you, mother and grandfather!").

The most recent thing I've read was Robin (2021), and whilst Damian is much more cordial with his mother, there's still an emotional distance and sense of distrust/resentment (for good reason, even if the context was some cartoonishly evil writing). But there is a silver-lining that they still appear to be fond of each other, in a melancholy kind of way.

Realizing he's "genetically" primed for magic would be especially confronting to Damian. There's no denying his Al Ghul blood, forcing him to confront a facet of himself he can no longer ignore or reject. A family that he likely has to approach for help/guidance.

Damian is put in a position of acknowledging this power could be used for good, to be stronger, to fight crime, balancing it with the implication that what he possesses could be rooted in dark magic (Lazarus enchantment).

If he decides to embrace it, would that be too much of an endorsement of the Al Ghul's dark occultism? Can he separate the two ideas? What if he can't control it? What if he accidentally hurts someone? What if has the ability to save someone where his other skills fall short?

Ideally, I'd love for this hypothetical story to lead into Damian exploring his Al Ghul heritage more intimately, historically, and spiritually (à la RSoB: Year of Redemption adventures). Another little coming-of-age self discovery journey.

I have my own little personal thoughts on what Damian decides to do with his magic powers, but I'd like to leave that open to interpretation... By the end of it I hope that he will at least find some forgiveness over resentment, and a balance between accepting that side of his family a little easier. It is finally a sense of inner peace :)

Any thoughts? Did I get any characterisation wrong? Let's talk over on my DC blog @arkhamochi! I'm currently trying to read all Damian-centric comics until I catch up with the current run. I'm hungry for discussion and analysis!!!!!!

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN PT.3

Too tired to do my obligations, but too stressed out to sleep, so here we find ourselves again.

This, once again, got horribly long- so long, in fact, I think this is the longest post in this 'trilogy'-, so I apologize in advance (╥ᆺ╥;) I also apologize for the lack of doodles, but dont worry! Im preparing a special one for later <33

After that night where SY offered Binghe an umbrella, things have certainly… changed. Unlike before, where SY spent most of his time mapping away at the ridiculously complex castle hallways and carefully marking away which times it was most likely for SY to be able to get close to Xin Mo, alongside doing his ‘servant’ duties of gathering dirty laundry and cleaning a room here and there, his routine had been suddenly adjusted; now, while he still needed to do everything he was doing before, his servant duties consisted of accompanying the chosen Wife Of The Day.

Or, well, that’s how one of the higher ranking staff had put it, that he was to attend to whatever wife Lord Luo decided to entertain for the day, but honestly, SY was starting to suspect that that had been a convoluted way for Binghe to have SY around whenever he wanted, which…. Was frankly quite worrying! To have the golden protagonist keep his eyes glued on his back almost every second they were in the same room, which - if SY looked back- usually led to Binghe looking away in a (bad) attempt to pretend he wasn’t glaring daggers at SY was more than enough for SY to think the Emperor was probably plotting his demise.

What else could it be? Specially with the way Binghe’s hand seemed to always be lightly tugging at the tassel on his hair every time SY caught him looking, he suspects Binghe had caught onto SY not actually being a servant, and instead that weird guy he saw before he fell into hell that one time. What if Binghe thought SY was somehow involved into the Abyss Incident?? Lord Luo, please have mercy on this servant!

Though, maybe the strangest part of it all, was that sometimes Binghe and SY would just… talk. Usually when the Wife Of The Day was doing something else (e.g. playing music for her husband, or practicing archery, or doing anything that didn’t involve LBH 100% at her side), Binghe would just start musing out loud about the strangest things. It started with questions that were all fair to ask, like ‘How come this servant is a human in the demon realm’, or ‘How come this servant has such short hair’ (SY bullshitted something about being a former slave) but eventually it shifted to questions that were a bit more… random. Or, well, not even questions, musings that Binghe muttered out loud but clearly wanted SY’s input.

It started with minimal things, like Binghe wondering about some type of monster he wanted to fight but he forgot how to do it without damaging the fur too much, which, after a minute of silence and a not-so-subtle look at SY, led to SY nerding out and saying not only the monsters weakness, but what could be done with every important part of the body. Though, the day after that SY realized how strange it was that Binghe was wondering that out loud, since he only fought that monster well into his time as an Emperor, and he swore he remembered one of the wives gushing about her new bracelet that was made from the rare bones of that creature just a few days ago…

Anyways, it continued with questions of similar nature: musings on how to kill a monster Binghe would have no problem killing, to what he should eat for dinner, to what gift should he get for Wife Of The Day. Of course, SY answered all the ‘questions’, and sometimes they even made it to having an actual conversation! Sure, it was a little stilted, SY could not figure out for the life of him why the great Lord Luo was interacting with a random servant, but one day it all finally clicked to him. Binghe had been in the middle of ‘musing’ about hair oils(??), when SY couldn’t help but interrupt him:

“Ah…. Apologies if this lowly servant is overstepping, My Lord, but does My Lord just want someone to talk to?”

A few emotions flashed through Binghe's face quickly enough for SY to not be able to decifer any of them, but eventually landing on a sheepish smile. "This Lord has been found out."

Oh, how cute! And how sad! SY had noticed when SQH was just showing him his shitty story how sad that LBH, even after getting the world to bow at his feet, never really had friendships. Sure, he still had all the love he could want, but sometimes people need friends to talk to, not lovers!

While he knew that he shouldn't interact with characters in world overlooked by the System unless they were transmigrators, SY couldn't help but feel that the situation was dire enough that LBH would turn to a no-name servant in this time of desperation. And it would be a great opportunity to study Xin Mo more closely as well! If SY showed LBH the wonders of friendship, maybe he could pass by his supervisor that he only had to do what was necessary for this world to not implode on itself.

Besides, who could even say no to such a handsome man such as LBH? Is as the old saying goes: what the protagonist wants, he shall have.

*

SY's friendship plan has been going great! After figuring out Binghe's intentions, it seems all of the protagonists reservations flew out the window, and SY was now responsible for being Binghe's personal retainer. Not that that meant too much, since Binghe liked to bend the rules to his liking, and some tasks that should be SY's responsability sometimes were pushed to another servant or Binghe himself made them (which, ???)

Mostly, SY stood at Binghe's side, served tea, was used so Binghe could bounce ideas off of someone, and tended to finer details. All of that very much manageable, if not for the weird mood swings LBH would have sometimes. Yuan, as he has told Binghe was his name after being too scared of the repercutions of using 'Shen', was to accompany him all the time, but sometimes not all the time, or else LBH would get moody; Yuan was to listen to LBH's ideas and plans, and should always comment back or else Binghe would feel neglected, but not too much or else, as LBH had put it, could 'bring back bad memories'; Yuan was to tend to LBH's night routine, even as far as to brush his hair, and if he refused LBH (again) get all moody, but he couldn't brush too much, and he had to do at least one braid but NEVER touch the old, frizzy braid that still had that damn tassle-

Honestly, it was a careful game of balance, which reminded SY more often than not of a child that got mad when their older sibling didn't quite understand the redundant rules they made for a make-believe. Any other person would get fed up, and probably scared of Binghe's constant mood swings, but SY had him all figured out, and his resilience proved to be useful time and time again, since most of the time after his sour mood passed, Binghe would come crawling back with the most pitiful face ever, and what was SY to do? As LBH's friend, it was his duty to hug him and pat his head! (And no one could judge him for that, since if he didn't pat Binghe's head, his mood would plummet all over again.)

Though... SY did feel kind of bad. He wouldn't be able to stay with Binghe forever, and would even need to potentially steal his all-powerful sword for a little bit so everything wouldn't get corrupted. Honestly, the only thing keeping SY from worrying about being labled as a traitor and potentially getting killed was that he would just go back to the System's office and go on with his life.

*

LBH, eventually, caught onto SY's plan on leaving - really, it was only a matter of time. After that fateful encounter with that other SQQ, LBH had found himself in rather pitiful state, questioning everything he knew until that moment and wondering why he couldn't achieve that happiness, and desperately trying to search for a SQQ of his own. He had contemplated going back to that first world, but what would it even matter? Even if he took SQQ by force, his heart would still be with that other LBH, and Binghe couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't be everything in SQQ's world, as he had become for LBH.

Specially after Meng Mo had one day interupted his carefully crafted dream of an idelic world and pointed out some curious memories he'd almost forgotten about. That day, when back in his childhood, when he'd been beaten up by a buch of older kids and hallucinated a man in strange clothes before passing out and waking up protected from the rain. Or when he thought he'd lost his jade pendant forever, only to magically appear in the cabin later.

Or the strange man in the Immortal Alliance Conference.

After SQQ- SJ , that good-for-nothing scum- pushed him to the Abyss, he tried his best to never think about that day again, too scared by how weak he'd been, pleading to man that would sell his soul for one more night at that brothel of his if he could, but now... Now that he could mold his dreamscape any way he wanted, he could look back with a clear mind, which eventually led to the conclusion: It must have been the same person. The same strangely dressed man that helped him in his childhood somehow appeared at the Immortal Alliance again, and even had left provisions right next to where Binghe had fallen.

He'd convinced himself, after many, many years of wishing for a miracle, that he's simply imagined the man, one last thread to keep himself from going insane, but after meeting the other SQQ...

And then Yuan came in. A new servant that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

It took some observation, and a lot preparing himself to face dissapointment that maybe he was just projecting, putting the image of someone else onto a random man, but that day, when LBH was wondering if he was just wasting time, that that beautiful dream of having his version of SQQ would not happen any time in this world, that maybe he really should just go look at other worlds; after all, if it happened once, it had to happen again, right? Not that it mattered in the end, since while he spireled, much to Xin Mo's pleasure, an umbrella was put over his head, and all his doubts had washed away.

Yuan had to be his version of SQQ, it had to be. And after all his effort of getting close to him, after going so far to keep Yuan at his side, even if he still battled with that his perception of SJ and the other SQQ sometimes overlapping with Yuan's image, even if he still wasn't ready to let go of that one braid, he was becoming more and more sure in his assumption that his SQQ had come to him. Everything was going as planned, and LBH was in track to finally begin to properly court him, and yet-

He was sure Yuan wanted to leave. He wasn't sure why, not how he would do that, maybe just dissapear like he had all those years ago and either only appear again 5, 10, 100 years in the future or go back to wherever he came from in the first place. But LBH knew Yuan wanted to leave, that he needed to complete whatever mission he had (after LBH managed to pry that out of his dreams, which where another source of confusion, with how absurdly difficult they were to even get a grasp of), and that, under any circumstances, he could let Yuan escape his sight.

Not again. Never again.

Binghe had become even stickier in the last few weeks. Not that SY minded, it was very cute to see such a different side from the cool, badass Lord Luo, but SY was running out of time. Since Binghe became stickier, his mood swings had worsened even more, now not wanting SY to be anywhere that Binghe wasn't, and Xin Mo seemed to be thriving off of whatever was making Binghe extra protective, though it was becoming a genuine problem now, since Binghe suddenly refused to see any of his wive's to deal with the Xin Mo problem, and he seemed to be on the verge of qi deviation at all times.

In fact, the only reason Binghe hadn't already qi deviated was because SY was abusing his Personal System and chipping away at the qi deviation in Binghe's night routine, since it was the only time where he was physically very close to Binghe and could spend long periods of time manually coding away at the System screen without it looking suspicious.

But, as if that wasn't enough of a problem, since Xin Mo was having the time of it's life recently, the virus clinging to the sword was also getting stronger, leaving even more residuals all along the castle and bordering on infecting Binghe himself.

His Scissors where thankfully, repaired, and his sweet, sweet manager was even kind enough to send him some extra energy supplies, but at the rate the virus was spreading, he was worrying that he would have to deal with the source as soon as possible or else it would become to strong to deal with it in a non-destructive way.

He... Didn't want to leave Binghe just yet, specially since he wanted SY's attention more than ever recently, but...

No, he needed to do this; their time together was never supposed to be eternal anyways, and if he let the virus spread, he would only be putting LBH's life in danger, and he couldn't continue living with himself after that. He decided he would fix the virus at night, while Binghe slept, and by the next morning he would be gone - he would have, after all, just enough energy to go back to the office.

He just hoped Binghe would be able to forgive him later.

When night came, and SY got to doing the usual night preparations, it just felt like an extra needle being stabbed in his heart when, while brushing Binghe's hair, Binghe looks back uncharacteristicly anxious, and asks if SY can undo the braid and remake it. SY does, and if Binghe notices SY takes extra long to pamper him that night, he says nothing.

When SY is sure Binghe is asleep, he sneaks out of his room and heads to back to Binghe's. Yeah, maybe he stalls a bit with snipping off every piece of the residual virus he came across, but one could argue he was just being extra thorough with his job.

The excuse, unfortunately, didn't last long and eventually he found himself in front of Binghe's room, staring at the door as if he was about to be sentenced to death. After a few minutes of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the doors. Binghe usually slept with the sword perched right beside his bed, so SY would probably have to use the System and put Binghe in an extra deep sleep if he wanted to make sure the other didn't wake-

The moment he places a foot inside, though, he realizes something is wrong; the room is empty, Binghe is not asleep in his bed and Xin Mo is not besides the bed. Oh, oh no, had Binghe-

"A-Yuan." Binghe says, and SY nearly jumps as he turns around. There LBH stands in the middle of the hallway, not even in his sleeping robes, with a hand clutched tightly on Xin Mo's handle. His eyes are watery but no tears spill.

SY tries to speak but finds he doesn't even know what to say, he can't even try to deny that he's up to something, since his gigantic Scissors are just out an about. Still, he tries to make Binghe understand, say that he needs to do this, and after this Binghe won't have to worry about anything anymore. Though it barely seems like Binghe is listening, and eventually just cuts in when SY starts to say anything in his panic.

"This is what A-Yuan wants, right?" He asks, extending one arm and presenting the glitched out Xin Mo. SY doesn't even have the chance to find an excuse, as Binghe immediately continues. "Than take it."

"Wh- Huh?" "Take it."

He's so shocked he almost drops his Scissors. What does he mean 'take it'??? Binghe has to know everything that's at stake here! He doesn't even know what SY wants to do with it! He tries to say that, how Binghe shouldn't just hand the sword to anyone like that, but a sudden burst of energy set his priorities straight. Shit- The virus! It's growing by the second, at this point SY will have to cut Xin Mo-

"...Binghe, I-" "I don't care what A-Yuan wants with Xin Mo! Take it, use it, break it if you want, I don't care! But if A-Yuan takes it, than he will have to stay." "Binghe, that's not..." "Why not?! That's your goal, right? Do whatever it is that you want to do with Xin Mo? Than here you go, A-Yuan can do it, but I won't let you leave me again."

SY can't even mask when his eyes dart towards the tassle on Binghe's new braid. Binghe just clenched his jaw, but it feels like confirmation enough.

He adjusts his grip on the Scissors, and, as he has nothing else to hide, dispels the System's illusion, his simple clothes glitching out to reveal the System's uniform. Binghe's eyes fill even more with tears, but none fall."

"I... I'll have to go back, Binghe." "No." "Binghe, listen to me, I-" "No. No! A-Yuan will get Xin Mo, and then he will stay." "I-" "You will stay! I can't-" Binghe can't even finish his sentence before he has to choke out a sob.

The virus starts warping the air around it, and slowly crawling up Binghe's arm. SY's decision has practically been made for him. He lifts the Scissors. Binghe pushes Xin Mo forward.

"...I'll come back." "A-Yuan-" "I'll come back, Binghe." One single tear falls and his arm jerks, not knowing if he trusts SY's words or not. He still his arm as the Scissor blades encircle Xin Mo.

"A-Yuan..." "I'll come back, I promise." "..." "I promise."

"......Okay."

Shen Yuan cuts Xin Mo.

[moechies]

giving older bsf toji a bj cs u dont have any money on u for gas 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

oh mi gosh. dis is absolutely so filthy ‘nd absolutely perfect for him . dis is how grimy he is in my mind.. (modern au where toji is RICH $$)

“toji.”

“hm, darling?” you look upon the questioning man sitting besides you, one strong hand that guides the steering wheel of your own car. he insisted to drive, and in what position would you say no? you’d never pass up an offer to be passenger princess.

“i-i forgot.”

“forgot what?”

“forgot money for gas, toji.”

“are ya dumb sweetheart? goin’ t’get gas n the one thing ya forgot is gas money?”

“‘m s-sorry toji, can you lend me? please? promise i won’t forget next time!”

he scoffs, knowing well that he would’ve paid nonetheless. but watching you nervously scramble yourself together, anticipating a response from him is too adorable, he thinks.

“yeah, but ya gotta pay me back.”

“course i will! gonna give it back as soon as we ge-“

“no sweetie. not with money.”

your head turns slow to the man, already shooting you a evil-intentioned smirk. his free hand comes down to scarce over the evident bulge that pokes through his sweats, indirectly instructing you.

“with your mouth, honey.”

he chuckles when your face flushes red, how unexpecting.

with over 3 years of close friendship, the man had assumed that you at least would’ve noticed; his stares that pierce into your skin, touches that linger a little too long, and the constant absence of your favorite panties. what a naive little thing you were; he loved it.

if you didn’t know his true intentions then, you’d definitely know now.

“c’mon, y’want me to fill it up right?”

“t-“

“the tank sweetie. the car. don’t you want gas?”

you huff when he chuckles at your flustered expression. your small fingers dance across his bulge, his own hand messily slipping under the band of his sweats, releasing himself. he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when you gasp, fawn like eyes that immediately shoot up to meet his gaze.

“s-so big..”

“mm, you think so?” he teases.

his hand slithers to the back of your head, fingers playing with one or two strands of your hair.

“c’mon, be good..”

he smiles at you coyly, desperate even, and it makes your heart and your cunt clench.

with slight pressure from the man’s hand, you find yourself lowering onto the tip of his cock. your puffy lips press against the warm slit, an immediate groan that spills from his lips,

“no action recently?” you tease, facing him with a slight smile,

“shaddup princess. yer lucky you’re cute.”

you snicker, separating your slicked up lips to wrap around the thick of his cock head. your tongue presses against the slit once again, tasting the sweet substance that coats his dewy slit; more that spews from the teasing licks.

“don’t t-tease.”

you hold yourself further onto his cock to accommodate his length, a light gag that elicits from your throat. tears brim in your eyes when you feel your jaw begin to ache, but the needy man pays no mind when he begins thrusting into your warmth.

oh and when he feels a warm tear fall onto the skin of his thigh, he nearly cums.

“heh.. there you go, see? ya can do it.”

you hum around him, the light sensation that drills right through his sensitive cock.

“g-gunna cum. shit.”

and with a few shallow thrusts, his cum brims. it’s warm, and thick, but you swallow without a second thought. you pull yourself off to meet your eyes with his, vision daisy and face fumed with a sweet blush once again.

“hah.. gonna have to fill you up, darling. we’ll worry about the car later, kay?”

[lilacgaby]

Yay request open oh oh if youre in Gumi era just having idea can I have more of his domestic fluff like planning on their future life any kind of domestic will do (๑•́ω•̀) 💗💗

title: my heart is yours eternally

pairing: boyfriend-> husband!megumi x girlfriend->wife!reader

summary: megumi thought this life he planned was only one in fairytales, but as he looked at the life he built with you, he knew it was real.

note: i love megumi pls pls pls request him more ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

"i want a small wedding." he said out of the blue as you two laid in his bed, holding your hand in his and he looked over you. "one that's intimate, i don't mind you choosing the theme or anything."

as you nodded thoughtfully, you entangled your fingers together. "mhm. just for us. and i want you to have a pretty ring too, i think you'd look nice with one in silver."

"you think?" he replied, eyebrow raised.

"i know so. and we can have a huge wedding cake-"

"vanilla."

"yes vanilla, with ice cream too. just for us."

he seemed content with that, smiling softly. until a thought crossed over his mind and he looked down at you with a look in his eye.

"i'll get you a nice ring, i promise. you just need to wait." he said, determined.

"i'll wait for you 'til the end of time, 'gumi."

he flushed and squeezed your hand tighter, he had to get the best for you. he couldn't sleep right if he didn't.

"you want any kids 'gumi?" you asked absentmindedly, not noticing the way he choked on air at the thought. images of you pregnant ran through his mind, his mind spiraling as he failed to find the words.

"megumi?"

"oh, uh.. a brother and a sister. that's all we need."

"sounds good, i wouldn't want our baby to get lonely when we're gone after all."

he felt his mind sputter at the thought of your baby, with features from you and him.

the topic of conversation eventually changed to something different, a show you were watching. as he listened to you recount how happy you were that the characters you hated died, his mind still kept going back to the conversation you had earlier.

he fell asleep holding your hand, images of the life you'd have together running through vividly, like he could almost touch it.

since then, he was determined to make that a reality for the two of you.

he proposed to you on your anniversary, taking every possible note he could about the types of rings you liked before choosing one. as he held you hand in his and slid on the ring, kissing you with only the sunset behind you as witness, he felt truly loved.

the months spent planning your wedding weren't as stressful as you handled it together. finding the perfect venue, small like you both wanted.

going on dates to sample cakes, laughing at megumi's face of disgust. choosing the topper for the cake, opting for two loving bunnies at the top since none of them could get megumi's hair right.

choosing who to invite, megumi 'begrudgingly' inviting his old friends from jujutsu high, and you yours.

him going out with gojo and yuuji to pick the perfect suit, you choosing your dress with your most trusted friends.

walking down the aisle, megumi felt emotional since you were just so gorgeous, he never felt as luck as he did when you were announced husband and wife.

well actually, that's a lie.

when you gifted him a box, full of baby clothes and a stick with two life changing lines on it, he knew you were his good luck charm.

as he promised, he loved you through even your sickness. a lot of foods made you nauseous, so he'd started to learn how to cook because it was exhausting for you.

your bump was bigger than average, not like he'd say it to your face, but it was confirmed when you went to get your ultrasound. twins.

you squinted your eyes at him and jokingly hit him on his shoulder lightly, saying, "this is your fault!"

he only laughed. at your gender reveal, just a small thing between you two, you held hands and cut a cake slice out of the cake. to your surprise, it was blue and pink.

your stomach got huge, at 9 months you just wanted your kids out. megumi would take you out on walks everyday, well just strolls around your house technically, but it was a lot for you.

on day number 3, your water broke. you thought you'd finally feel relieved, but good thing megumi was there because you panicked. he was too but mentally.

as you delivered your babies, the son first, you squeezed his hand for dear life.

when you went home with 2 kids a couple days later, you sleeping as megumi held the two in the rocking chair he'd picked out, he felt like it was a dream.

when you awoke, and he'd matched the features of your son who took after you and your daughter after him, his heart fluttered as he felt his body soar.

this is what love is, and this is what he dreamt of.

[vivisectedboy]

Open

"God. Fuck. Please don't d- Please stop-"

"Hm?"

The Doctor makes an incision. Precise. Sharp. The skin feels so impossibly thin. So easy to reach under. It's like drawing on paper.

"Jesus christ- Jesus fucking christ- Oh god-"

The Doctor reaches in. Rubber gloves against raw flesh, forearms covered in fresh blood. What a horrible texture.

The Patient is heaving in shock. On the inclined bed, he has no other choice but to look right at the wound gaping across his stomach. It moves with each gasp for air. Like a mouth. An orifice that was always meant to be there, moving in rhythm with the rest of the body.

"I forgot to get the retractors. But I reckon you could do the job, no?"

"What?"

"I'm going to loosen the restraints on your hands, so you can reach it."

"What-"

The Patient asks again, barely hearing the words over his own hitched breathing. The Doctor grabs his two wrists - completely unbothered by the blood smearing on them - and positions his hands over the wound.

"Hold that open for me, will you?"

His fingers are guided in place, forced to dig deep, while his arms are pulled apart slowly. Bright red viscera beneath the freshly opened layers. Like it has always wanted to be seen, glistening under the light.

"No, no, no- no, please don't- please I'm-"

"Sshh. Just hold it there. Keep it open."

"No- no- I can't-"

Not feeling the pain might even be more terrifying. Only the view remains. And the sounds. The stomach-turning smell of his own blood. His fingers, clamped in place by complete shock. And the growing cold, slowly seeping into his whole trembling body.

[cassyapper]

Jotaro grunts as they get to their room and, as Joseph warned, there is only one queen sized bed. His only solace is that Joseph and Polnareff will be dealing with the same predicament. There only being one hotel in a drive-through town makes their room choices limited…

He sighs, setting his bag down on the floor of one side of the mattress, Kakyoin silently taking the other.

Kakyoin digs through his duffel then, likely for his pajama set given the hour, the blue of dusk fading to the purple of night through the window, while Jotaro scans the length of the bed, then himself, considering if his full length will fit. Kakyoin's not the shortest guy either, he muses as he watches Kakyoin return to his full height from his duffel, his pajamas in hand.

Jotaro hums, moving to sit on the bed, only for Hierophant to manifest and gently hold him back by the shoulder.

He jumps, whipping his head up, and Kakyoin smiles, amused, before saying, "Hey, we're gonna sleep there. Try not to lie down on the bed until we're both showered, okay?"

Jotaro grunts. "You've never cared if I shower before sitting down before."

Kakyoin raises a brow, snorting. "We've never shared a bed before." Jotaro shudders, hair rising along the back of his neck. "Come on, I don't want to sleep on dusty sheets." Jotaro grimaces at the description, his skin suddenly itching.

"Don't say it like that..." Jotaro grumbles then, and Kakyoin raises a brow.

"Dusty sheets?"

Face heating up a bit, Jotaro scowls, crossing his arms. "No."

Kakyoin's brows pinch, gaze scanning over him, and Jotaro squirms. "What, then?"

"Don't act like an idiot," Jotaro tries to bite, but his voice wavers, and Kakyoin's face screws up a bit. Jotaro ducks his head, tugging the brim of his hat down. "Look, I won't sit on the bed until I shower. So you should go first and-"

"Sharing a bed?"

Jotaro goes still.

Kakyoin blinks in Jotaro's periphery, before he snorts. Jotaro whips his head up, embarrassment riding up his spine, making him grit his teeth against its waves.

"What?" He snaps, and Kakyoin just snorts again. "It was weird to say!"

Kakyoin snickers, but his eyes are crinkled with his smile, and some of the anger in Jotaro's chest falters. The embarrassment certainly doesn't, though. "I won't- kehehe, I won't say it again, but why does it bother you so much?" Kakyoin giggles.

Jotaro glares at him, letting out a harsh exhale, before he ducks his head again, adjusting his arms against his chest. "Just... It makes us sound like we're..." his voice gets hushed, almost in a whisper, "... married... or something..."

Kakyoin blinks, lips parting, and some color sinks into his cheeks then, and Jotaro feels a little vindicated.

But then he says, "Jeez, Jojo, you think about us getting married often?" And Jotaro's back to being the reddest in the room, tugging his hat down over his eyes so sharply he almost rips it off.

"Good fucking grief-" Jotaro shakes. "Kakyoin-"

Kakyoin giggles again, and it's such an ugly sound, Jotaro wishes it wouldn't set his blood on fire. But, he supposes, he already feels much too warm, and at least this is a nicer heat than that of embarrassment.

Unfortunately, such a thought only brings some shame into the mix, and Jotaro rolls his eyes viciously at himself.

"Why- why would I think about us getting married?" Jotaro spits out, trying to get away from his thoughts. "We're both men."

Kakyoin raises a brow at him again and Jotaro sort of wishes he would stop doing that, because everything in his body cavity from the top of his chest to the seat of his hips feels like liquid. "It's not legal at home, sure, but people still find ways to get functionally married," Kakyoin says.

Jotaro feels like he's skipped the last step of a stairwell. "Huh?"

Kakyoin studies him for a moment, and Jotaro wishes he would drop it. He wishes for once, Kakyoin would leave well enough alone and shrug, take his shower, and let Jotaro drown out his embarrassment with a cold shower of his own.

Kakyoin's not his friend because he behaves accordingly, though.

"Jotaro... men get married," Kakyoin says. Jotaro sort of wants to take off his coat, with how much he's sweating, but the thought of showing any skin right now makes his heart jump to his throat, so he keeps it on.

"With- with wives," Jotaro agrees, frowning at his own shakiness. What, exactly, is he so nervous about?

Kakyoin tilts his head. "With other men," he clarifies, and for some reason, Jotaro feels a shot of adrenaline.

"How?" Jotaro asks, voice a little too desperate, and he turns then, sick of humiliating himself. He shoves his hand into his pocket, pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, and moves to the window, shoving it open with his free hand and sitting stiffly in an old wooden chair placed nearby, technically going with a desk in the corner.

It’s quiet as Jotaro flips the lip of his carton open and slides a cigarette out. He clicks his lighter to life, brings it to the end of his cig, and inhales. The smoke swirls into his lungs and Jotaro holds onto the burn, trying to will all his embarrassment to join it as he exhales it out, coughing slightly.

He jumps when Kakyoin’s hand is on his shoulder then, whipping his head up. Kakyoin raises his hands in a surrendering gesture, and Jotaro sighs. Eying him, Kakyoin sits down on top of the desk, the old wood creaking underneath his weight.

They stare at one another for a second, and Jotaro takes another drag, spitting his smoke outside the window.

“Does it… bother you?” Kakyoin asks quietly.

Jotaro blinks, turning back to Kakyoin. “What?”

Kakyoin sends him a flat look, but still answers, “Men getting married. To other men.”

Jotaro is shaking his head no before he realizes, and he freezes, gritting his teeth at his own anxiety. “No, I- no.”

Kakyoin stares at him, hard, eyes scraping over every pore in Joaro’s face it feels like, and Jotaro adjusts in his seat, glancing back outside to avoid the ultraviolet of Kakyoin’s gaze. Finally, Kakyoin’s brows pinch, and he leans forward a bit. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Just-” Jotaro shakes his head. What was wrong? What wasn’t wrong? His mom is dying halfway across the world and his soul is a ginormous purple monster of incredible strength, he needs to kill or be killed by the most insane people he’s ever seen, and the boy in front of him makes him so twisted up inside Jotaro’s half convinced he’s developing an acute form of scoliosis. Jotaro sucks in a breath. “I just didn’t know that was… allowed.”

Kakyoin’s brows pinch further. “... Allowed?”

Jotaro sucks in another breath of cigarette smoke instead of clarifying.

Kakyoin stares at him before leaning back again. “Jotaro, you know gay people just… exist?”

“I know-” Jotaro sucks in a breath. “I just-” Am I allowed to look at you like this? Are you allowed to make me feel like this?

Kakyoin tilts his head, and his bang swings, and Jotaro’s fingers twitch, his cigarette nearly slipping out of his hand. He fumbles, catching it, only to hiss and he burns himself with the filter. He shoves the cigarette into his mouth and crosses his arms, glaring at the floor. Kakyoin politely ignores it, but he does bring a hand to his mouth. Jotaro glares at the glossy wooden paneling.

“Jotaro,” Kakyoin prompts, and Jotaro’s shoulders hunch up to his ears, but he glances up at Kakyoin’s face anyway. He wonders when he became so obedient when it came to Kakyoin, and he shudders at the thought. “You know it’s not something that needs permission, right?”

Jotaro twitches. The ash in his throat is making his mouth dry.

“Jotaro,” Kakyoin continues, and Jotaro jerks again, “do you know men can just- love other-?”

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro interrupts, his voice hoarse from the smoke, and Kakyoin stops talking. Jotaro takes a few inhales of his cigarette, his nose burning, before he brings a hand to his mouth and takes it out again. “I just- I never- I never see it?” It sounds juvenile, but Jotaro isn’t sure how else to explain.

Kakyoin’s face softens a little then and Jotaro twitches again, his skin itching. “It’s not really broadcasted, no, but,” Kakyoin shrugs then, leaning back on his palms, and Jotaro tries not to think. “It still happens. People can still meet… and fall in love…” Kakyoin’s cheeks get a little pink then, and Jotaro really tries not to stare, but he’s exhausted and enraptured and scared and he can’t look away. “And even if it’s not… conventional, they can still get their happy endings.” Kakyoin locks eyes with Jotaro then, and Jotaro’s breath hitches in his throat. “And even then… you know you don’t need to get married to be in love? Again, unconventional, but it’s still an option… The love is there either way, just like with a man and woman.”

Kakyoin tilts his head and Jotaro’s starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, to make his bang swing like that, to make it caress his face and make Jotaro twitch like he’s being electrocuted. “We’ve never been the most conventional people in the first place anyway, huh, Jotaro?” He murmurs, and Jotaro damn near falls out of the chair with how hard he shudders before he stands up, breathing noticeably.

Kakyoin raises a brow, but doesn’t move, and Jotaro feels like this is all entirely unfair. He spits out his cigarette, drops it, and scrapes it into a pile of ash on the hotel floor.

Kakyoin’s wide mouth curls into an amused smirk. “Owner won’t like that.”

Jotaro shrugs. “I’m going to shower,” he says gruffly.

Kakyoin chuckles. “You never answered me, you know.”

Jotaro pauses, glancing at Kakyoin.

Kakyoin smiles lazily. “You think about us getting married often, Jotaro?”

Jotaro slams open the bathroom door and Kakyoin cackles. “I think about you shutting up often,” he snaps over his shoulder, and Kakyoin just snickers, the echo of it following him even as he closes the door.

Jotaro sighs, bracing his hands on the sink as he breathes for a second, looking down at the drain as his guts, fuzzy and warm and swirled up, try to separate and regain their independence again. Kakyoin jumbles him up so bad.

Men can meet… fall in love… Get married, or not… The love is still there either way.

Jotaro shudders. Fucking Kakyoin.

He turns on the shower to the coldest setting he can stand.

[xpulchritudinousx]

Cook Off!

Summary: Where class A is competing to win a little cooking competition with their one and only Bakugo Katsuki as the judge.

Class 1-A was going up in the ranks, it’s been months since the war and months since they finally became second years. Now sitting in the classroom labeled with a number two instead of one, with two new classmates joining them. Shinso Hitoshi, a brilliant hard worker who’d finally been able to go up in the ranks and be able to enter the hero course and then there was you…

What was there to say about you? You weren’t dumb per say… Just a little oblivious to the world around you. Look, you just loved crafting and doing fun things in your free time, it wasn’t like you did bad in class. You were getting hundreds on your exams and turned in all your work early. So what if your notes were written in glitter pen and your notebooks were covered in stickers? Honestly when everyone saw the class rankings for grades, Denki was so sure you’d be failing with him. Especially when you’d ask dumb questions during class, like what the names of the concept you were even going over was or if you really needed to work on your popularity if you just asked people to give you the place you wanted. Safe to say, everyone just looked at you like you grew a second head when you’d ask those questions. Everyone knew you were an exchange student, your Japanese was choppy and you’d mix up words pretty often. When everyone was learning English you were taken aside to learn more proper Japanese writing and grammar. What they didn’t know is that you lived in the dormitories that no one else seemed to occupy anymore. You’d always dreamed of being able to go to the same school as All Might. You'd try to learn Japanese as thoroughly as you could just in case you had the opportunity to go to UA, refusing to apply to any other hero schools. And here you were, you’d made it, able to meet your hero and talk to him as he’d help you with your Japanese lessons. Of course you knew Izuku was a big fan as well, seeing his merchandise and listening to his huge rants about the man. But you didn’t connect to him or anyone else in the class for that matter, seemingly isolating yourself from them as you stayed in your own sparkly little bubble. That was until the class had come to the dorms for a movie night, they’d invited you only to be turned down. Originally they wanted to do it in someone’s house, but the class quickly realized that might not be ideal, even if one of them lived in a mansion. Mina was the one who suggested watching movies in the dorm's living area, since it was the perfect size for everyone and the kitchen was right next to it, perfect for making snacks. So there everyone was, wearing their casual clothes and bringing different snacks or ingredients for snacks. Ready to watch movies until they crashed and needed to sleep in the dorm rooms. What no one expected was to see you groggily walking over to the kitchen in your pajamas. You didn’t notice everyone at first until you’d grabbed yourself a cup of water, freezing when you finally saw them all. “What’s going on?” The question wasn’t answered when your classmates were too busy taking in the fact that you were in the dormitories. “You live here?!” The loud shouting of your fellow classmates just had you absolutely flabbergasted, jumping back as you blink a bit. Looking around before finally giving in, sighing as you stared down to your feet, tapping your toes down to the floor. “Yeah…” That was how your grand reveal went, with your hesitation towards their offers of hanging out and your lack of interest in conversing when homes were brought up making sense to them now. But this wasn’t going to be a moment of pity or them letting you feel self conscious.  So instead of their movie night you somehow ended up roped into a cooking competition with all of class 2-A. Katsuki was put up as the judge in this competition, thanks to him not being able to cook or handle kitchenware properly with his busted arm. He honestly didn’t even want to show up for the movie night, but Izuku roped him in and now here he was judging a competition between a bunch of idiots. 

He just sat there with a bored look on his face, watching everyone take their turns in groups of four. Each group had to compete until there were three groups left, with the rest of the class being the audience watching from the sidelines. It came down to three teams: Team one, Midoriya, Todoroki, Ochako, and Mina. Team two, Tsu, Mina, Hagakure and… Mineta. Then there was team three, which was made up of you, Jiro, Denki and Momo. Your team was busy grabbing whatever ingredients you asked for, allowing you to do the main steps. Simply boiling water or heating up pans or utensils for you. “Could someone give me that big choppy knife?”

 Sero who was pretending to be a talk show host, holding up a whisk to his mouth like a microphone just watches. “And it looks like team 3 is… Lost? Honorable judge, what’s the verdict?” Katsuki just looked at him, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance before sighing, humoring the man by speaking into the whisk.

 “I hope none of these idiots cut themselves.” He simply states with furrowed eyebrows, the comment being fairly pointed as you cut up tomatoes using a cleaver, looking a little  too lost to even be trusted handling it. 

Momo taps your shoulder and hands you a proper sized knife for the task at hand, watching you test cut the tomatoes with it before you beam. “Oh, that’s so much easier! I thought the bigger one would make it go faster.” You admit with a giggle, earning awkward looks from your teammates, Momo simply smiling at you, not finding it that crazy of an idea. 

“Yes, sometimes bigger items can speed up the process, but cleavers are meant to chop through meat and bones. I doubt tomatoes can handle that kind of weight.” Denki just watches, looking over to Jiro before whispering over. 

“She’s supposed to be the best cook out of the four of us?” “Dude, who else would do it? We weren’t going to trust you to lead the kitchen.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sero just looks unimpressed, forcing a smile before going over to the other two groups, finding them to not be doing much better. “How did we live in the dorms for so long?” He mutters out, questioning how no one burnt down the buildings with the way there was already a cloud of smoke coming from team 1’s station.

 Todoroki had tried flaming over the steak for Midoriya, watching it catch on fire before freezing it over, apologizing to his friend as he panicked. Ochako was busy taste-testing sauces and maybe stealing some of the food for a snack while Mina kept trying to stop her from drinking the drizzle for the steak… She was hungry, okay? And Mineta’s team… Mineta’s team was trying to shove him in the oven. “It’s not fair! My character design makes it easy for you guys to do this!” Sero just watches, turning his head to Katsuki and just sighing, turning to the outed contestants that’s their remaining class and pointing at them. “Viewers, you’re welcome to comment on which team you think will win!” No one looked very impressed by the way things were turning out for the competing teams. “I think we’re going to need to order in.” 

Finally, after a lot of struggling and some… Less than kind words from their judge, the teams had finished their plates. First off was Midoriya who just awkwardly smiled as he lifted up the plate to show the poorly done steak that was scorched all around. Katsuki did not look impressed, giving his childhood friend a look that could only be read as ‘are you serious?’  “I’m not tasting that…” Next up was Mineta, scratch that, Tsu was the one who was presenting their meal. Mineta for whatever reason wasn’t around for the grand reveal. She lifted up a simple fried mackerel with all the assorted sides, Bakugo looked very relieved to see something edible. Sighing before trying a little bite of the dish, nodding before swallowing his mouthful. “It’s drier than it should be.” Sero just gave him a sidelong glance at the critique. “It looks fine to me.” Everyone finally looked over to your group, seeing how you were covered in flour with some batter in your hair. You had some curry smeared on your cheek from taste testing it to make sure it was properly seasoned. The plate seemed fine though, you’d made it extra pretty with the katsu you’d fried laying over top of the dish neatly like a little blanket for the little bear you’d made out of rice. Now it was your turn to show off your dish, lifting it up to show everyone with a triumphant little smile on your lips. Eyes scrunching as you look at Bakugo, he could’ve sworn he saw sparkles show up around you. He just stares at you for a second before looking at Sero. “Team 3 wins.” The class just watched him with wide eyes, judging him a bit for his verdict. He didn’t even try it! Everyone just gave up on commenting, settling their dishes on the table for a makeshift potluck. And surprise, surprise, your dish ended up being everyone's favorite, especially the blond you’d excitedly offered to hand feed. He didn’t bother to fight it, sitting there quietly as you brought the food to his mouth, looking a little embarrassed as he chewed, trying his best to ignore your classmates staring.  He might've hated the attention from the lower classmen but maybe this kind of attention from you wouldn't be so bad...

[witless-winion1]

Me: I’m gonna write a self-indulgent, fluffy lil drabble

Google: A drabble is about 100 words or less

Me, an hour and three minutes later, holding a Notes doc with 1,035 words: whoopsies

ANYWAY

Penelope sighed softly as she traced the wet cloth over her son’s face, gently wiping away the sweat gathered on his young brow as he twisted under the branches of his parent’s wedding bed. 

“Shhhh,” she soothed, cupping his face as he moaned, face twitching. “It’s alright. I’m here…”

With another soft, hoarse hum, his eyes fluttered open. His eyes were glossy and uncharacteristically shadowed, still fearful from the nightmare. 

“Mom…” he mumbled raspily, his fingers twitching out towards her. Wanting her closer.

“Shhhh. I’m right here.” Penelope set the cloth aside and stood from the chair and settled in beside him, her back meeting the familiar wood of the olive tree. “It’s alright, little wolf. I’m right here.” 

Telemachus reached out, curling up by her and hugging her, lying across her lap and in her arms just as his father used to. Just as Penelope longed to again, hopefully soon. The war had been raging for eight years now, and day by day she refused to let her hope diminish. Odysseus would return to her and Telemachus. Her husband was too brilliant and too full of wit and love not to. 

Penelope stroked her fingers over her son’s hair, messy and sweaty from fever. The healer had checked him out and given good odds that he’d be fine with some care; he was a strong, healthy young boy, after all. Penelope still wanted to stay by his side, though. 

Telemachus’s eyes fluttered closed once more, relaxing under the warm touch. Another weak moan left him, as he shivered under the blankets. Penelope rubbed his shoulder with her other hand, watching him and silently praying to Asclepius to ease her son’s suffering. 

A soft whine drew her attention; not from Telemachus, but a familiar whimper of a dog. Penelope lifted her head to see a brown snout poking up at the end of the bed. 

The queen shook her head and sighed. The maids will change the sheets later anyways…

She whistled softly, patting the bed beside her son. Telemachus shifted, confused, but his eyes opened again as his favorite pup backed up into view, got a running start, and still barely managed to clear the bed’s top. The hunting dog immediately trotted across the blankets to the prince, sniffing at his ill master. 

“Argos,” Telemachus croaked, reaching up to pat the canine. “‘m okay, boy, lie down…”

Argos continued to nuzzle the prince, whining softly in concern, so Penelope just rolled her eyes and said in a much firmer voice that Telemachus never wanted to use on Argos: “Lay down.”

Argos gave her pleading puppy eyes, but after meeting her stern royal gaze, he obediently curled up by Telemachus’s side, snuggling into his boy. Telemachus patted his fur, his shaky hand coming to rest on the dog’s neck. 

There was a long, still silence for a while, as Penelope could feel her son- and, with begrudging acceptance, his dog, who at least seemed to be comforting him- resting their weary heads on her lap and legs. 

Telemachus’ breathing was tired and a bit wheezy, but Penelope trusted that he would be alright, just ran her hands through his hair like she had done with his father to calm him. But he seemed to be having a harder time falling asleep again, shifting and coughing occasionally. After a while, his soft, rough voice piped up. 

“Mama?”

Penelope’s lips were touched by the faintest smile; she thought he’d grown out of calling her that. “Yes, my dear?”

Telemachus leaned deeper into her caress. “Are..are there any stories a..about Dad that you haven’t told me..?” 

Penelope’s smile grew. This boy never tired of hearing about his father, relishing every story he could get from Penelope, his Aunt Ctimene, Eurycleia, his grandparents, anyone. It was endearing, and Penelope loved to refresh her memories, watching her son grin with each detail about his estranged father. 

“Hmmm…” Penelope hummed. “Have I ever told you about what he was like with you when you were a baby, before he left for war?”

That earned a groggy hum of interest from her son, which she took as a no. “Well, you see,” she began, smiling down as her son’s  fever-dulled eyes brightened. “When you were first born, he was so happy to meet you; he was crying tears of joy. He cried so hard, in fact, that he passed out from dehydration. Your aunt Ctimene took you from his stubborn hands hardly a second before he collapsed, and his friend Polites had to catch him.” 

Telemachus let out a little laugh, broken up by soft coughs, but he was clearly eager for more, so she continued. “And once he could hold you without nearly drowning you in tears, he very rarely put you down. He loved holding you; you almost didn’t want to sleep in your own crib. We often joked you would perhaps sleep better if Odysseus carved the crib to feel like his arms. But he wouldn’t want to put you down long enough to carve it!” Penelope gently poked his head as his giggles increased. 

“…I wish I could remember what his arms felt like,” Telemachus whispered, head bowing under her long fingers. 

Penelope’s smile faltered for a second, but it returned as she squeezed his shoulder. “You will know someday,” she promised softly. “They feel wonderful. Strong and warm and with an abundance of love.”

Telemachus was quiet, for so long that Penelope wondered if he had fallen asleep, before he murmured, “I can’t wait…”

She sighed softly. “Neither can I, my dear. We shall wait together for his return….perhaps the time will pass a bit faster if you sleep, hmm?”

The young prince gave a weak nod, head growing heavier in her lap. “M..more stories..?”

Penelope leaned back a little more into the olive tree, the wood still strong and healthy. “Hmm. Well, you know how our marriage bed is made from the olive tree where we first met..? Your father is a brilliant carver. You know the little figurines you have in your room, the sirens and the cyclopes, the giants…harpies, chimeras, the Minotaurs…even Cerberus. I think he got a little carried away with that one…”

[lovemybluebully]

Wade dragging a featherduster up and down Logan's shaking stomach would definitely drive him wild, especially if he'd brush it all over his bellybutton and ribs. All the while, Wade's other gloved hand is tickling his upper ribs/armpits while cooing at him "Coochie Coo, little honey badger~"

I see something like this happening if Wade catches Logan when he's drunk and gets the idea to play his ego against him. He's already been casually poking Logan's ribs as they banter with Logan chuckling and weakly swatting at him with the most delayed reactions before Wade spots the feather duster laying out nearby. Then he sets the bait.

"Ha! You? Uh uh. Sorry, but no way, Peanut. There's not a chance in Hell that you'd be able to keep your arms up while I use that on your tummy."

Logan snorts and rolls his eyes as he pounds down the rest of the liquor bottle he's been drinking.

"Pffff, gotta be fucking kiddin' me, Mouth. Do you know who the fuck I am? I'd barely even feel that shit."

"I know exactly who you are, which is how I know you wouldn't be able to stand it. You're practically a living Tickle Me Elmo," Wade reaches over and gently scribbles fingers over his stomach to make him giggle and prove his point, smirking at seeing how easily Logan took the bait.

Cue Logan's drunken bravado prompting him to plop down somewhere and rip his shirt off over his head before laying down in all his hairy, muscly bare-chested gloriness and folding his arms behind his head.

"Well go on then. Do your worst, motherfucker."

He definitely doesn't have to tell Wade twice.

Logan is very used to the rough tickling that Wade normally inflicts on him, but this is something totally new. As soon as those feathers make first contact to swish across his belly his nerves are already lit on fire, yanking a gasping giggle from the back of his throat. His stubborn pride is in no way letting him back out of this though.

Back and forth, up and down, the feathers brush over his deceptively vulnerable abs and Logan is bucking and squirming and squealing out flurries of giggles. He's rolling on his back, trying to suck in his tummy to give him a micro-second of relief, but the feathers are only then dragged up the ribs of whatever side he's given up at the time.

Since Wade had first discovered that he was ticklish, he has carefully mapped out ever hot spot on the man's skin and knows exactly where to target. He goes back and forth, twirling the feather duster in each armpit as Logan's laughter goes wild and he thrashes around. His arms shake and tremble from the strain of wanting to pull them down so badly, but he does not falter.

Though Logan nearly loses it completely when Wade plucks free a single feather and starts swirling it around and deep inside his navel, all the while using playful teases to try to get him to break mentally.

"Coochie coo, big guy. Are the big, bad feathers too tickly for the cutie little honey badger? Hmm? Oh my, listen to that squealing. That must tickle pretty bad, huh? Let's say we try these between your toes next time."

Despite everything, Logan defies the odds and somehow finds the strength inside him to keep his arms up the entire time and Wade finally decides to concede after he realizes he's been tickling him for like twenty minutes now. 🤭

"Okay okay, fine. You've proved me wrong. I guess you win this one, tough guy," Wade stops as he puts the feather duster aside with a half-dead, panting Logan now giving him the biggest, cockiest smirk of all time.

"Told ya....asswipe. What.....What do I win?"

Wade hadn't really thought of a proper trophy, but knew there was only one acceptable answer.

"This," Wade's grin grows equally as big as he grabs Logan's ribs with his itching fingers and tickles viciously up them right into his deathly sensitive armpits. The X-man explodes into hysterics and still tries to keep his arms up to assert to Wade how tough he really is, but that glory only lasts for a few moments before his arms come slamming down.

Still the alcohol in his body keeps his mood light and his ego is back out once again in full force to taunt Wade to the max.

"Thaaahaat all you gohahahahot, fuck faahaace?! Wh-Who's thahahahat ticklin' mehehehe?! Wade?! Ohohor my fuhuhuhuckin' grandmahaha?! Aaaahaheheheheheh! I'm abohohohout to f-fahahall asleeheeheep here!"

Wade really loves him a drunk Wolvie. 💗🍻💛

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

I’m the anon who sent you that ask about Sonic and Shadow’s relationship in the Chronic Sonic au. If your post saying you ignore long asks was directed at me, can you please just… post the latest version without answering? I would prefer to save it to my likes and maybe have other fans read my thoughts.

thank you

Well no, it wasn’t just directed at you, there are a couple long asks in my inbox (some of which are positive and very beloved and i cherish, Dopambles I’m looking at you <3). But you’ve sent your ask twice now and this one too so I’ll answer this one. I don’t really want to make this a big long thing, but I also don’t really wanna leave ya hanging when this seems so important to you so lets do this (everyone else can ignore this if ya want I’m going long-winded through everything.)

So, reasons i don’t like to respond to or even post long asks sometimes lets do this [cracks knuckles]

1. I don’t like posting things onto my blog that I haven’t checked over first. I struggle a lot in reading and comprehending long asks. I don’t know why, it’s weird, okay. Let’s leave it at that. I’m not gonna blindly post walls of texts to my blog without checking them over first, because I want to make sure I’m filtering asks so nothing harmful gets posted to my blog. You’d be surprised at how whack a lot of anons can get. Not to say your ask was whack, but I also am struggling to read it so it’s hard to say for sure! It’s not due to the nature of your ask, it is simply because my brain be like dat.

2. Sometimes, I just don’t like having to scroll through walls of texts that aren’t my own to get to my latest posts. I get a lot of asks as it is. I do love answering them, but when they get long, the amount of time it takes to scroll through em makes it hard to refer back to my previous posts and is just is not intuitive or fun when interacting with my own blog, which leads me to my next point

3. This is my space. My blog is by me for me. I choose to post and share to interact and have fun with other people but at the end of the day this blog is my space. I did not create it for anyone other than me. I welcome the people who find joy in my stories here, but this remains my space. If i was being paid for this it’d be different, I’d absolutely curate and change things to make it a better and easier experience for those that i charged to be here, but like… I’m not being paid for this? And to ask me to do what you want in my space so that you can have the experience you want is… i dunno it sounds a little entitled. (I’m not saying that you ARE entitled, only that it sounds like it to me personally.) Contacting me even after I expressed my difficulty in answering asks to try and convince me to post it for your sake is a little rude. I’m not a professional creator, I’m not a person with fans, I’m just a random dude trying to have a good time with other people on a dumpster-fire website. I’m not a creator trying to make sure everyone else is having a good time. This is what i do in my free time to relax and—

4. —being a moderator for other peoples hc’s and conversations is not personally relaxing to me. My blog is not a public confessions blog and I am not a public message board. I am honoured when people share their personal stories and how what I doodle has helped them feel seen and that things will be okay, but I’m not a place for other people to come say what they want to each other, I’m a person, not a message board. How other people use Tumblr is up to them, however, I am not going to change how I use tumblr so that you can have a better experience when it will make the experience worse for me.

5. If i answer asks, I don’t draw. And I like drawing. If I’m posting asks (even without answering them) and stressing about being the middle man in conversations that I will have to regulate to make sure conversations stay kind, that takes a lot of time and energy and I got so incredibly burnt out when i tried to do that. So i stopped. And I will not be starting up again simply so you can have a good time, because I will have a bad one. And this is my space to not have a bad time. If something stresses me out, I will not do it here, it is as simple as that. I have my whole irl to be stressed about.

These are some of the reasons I don’t like to post long asks. I have notified you that I struggle to read, I don’t understand why you continue pushing. I have amazing anon’s who send wonderful long asks who have been kind and considerate with me about my struggles reading and processing. They continue to send their wonderful asks and have assured me it’s okay if I never post them. I am confused as to why you cannot seem to respect my decision as well.

The final reason regarding my hesitance in posting your ask in particular is simply that your hc was not accurate to how I was aiming to portray the characters in the current timeline. You are more than welcome to hc and speculate, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I cannot simply post it without answering it like you suggest because I would need to clarify that it’s not true. When I used to do that, people would start to misinterpret my au’s and it stressed me out. It takes hours for me to write up responses to things sometimes because I want to make sure I’m being kind and thoughtful and accurate. I am honoured that you shared something personal but what you wrote is simply not where the characters are at right now. It could be them in the future, but it is still early in the au so that kind of resentment hasn’t set in yet. Shadow is hurting because he’s taking the brunt of Sonic’s negativity but he is resigned to it because for him nothing else matters as long as Sonic stays alive, even if he has to be the person Sonic hates in all this and that is heavy. He’s angry at him when he does not take care of himself, but he is not resentful. Sonic struggles with being a burden on all of his friends, not just Shadow. The way you described the relationship was closer to how Tails and Sonic interact than Shadow and Sonic and even then, there’s more going on that I just don’t have the time or energy to really walk through. And besides, I want to save that energy to draw out things later.

As i shared with another commenter who asked something similar, I can absolutely DM you your ask back if you want to save it. However I don’t understand why you need me to post it to save it your likes if you simply want to save it. You have your own blog you can post it to. Why does it need to be on my blog? Why do I have to do extra work so you can have an easier time to do what you want? I am very grateful for your interaction and love of my comic, and I understand it’s frustrating when people make things harder for you to have a good time, but that’s exactly what you’re doing to me by asking me to change how I use tumblr to suit your wants instead of what is easiest for me. I am not a public service you pay for. I am a person, a full time student with family issues, struggling siblings that I’m trying to help, a person who is struggling myself. I have a limited amount of energy in a day, I get tired quickly. If i want to continue to find joy in drawing I have to set boundaries. You may not always know why someone does something, I guarantee there is more here that I will not share because it is personal. Sometimes you just have to be okay with not knowing, you have to be okay not understanding, and you have to be okay without an explanation that makes sense to you. All you need to do is understand that often times there is a reason people behave the way they do. It’s not a reflection on you or their opinion of you, it is simply many other factors at play that lead to such an outcome.

I sincerely hope this did not offend you, I am not angry with you, nor do I wish for any of this to be taken as scolding or upset you. If it has come across that way, I apologize. I am sorry I am not in a state to give you what you want, and I’m thankful for your patience with me in reading through this and I hope it is enough to at least paint a little bit of a picture as to why I will not be posting your ask. It’s unfortunate that I ended up spending hours addressing this anyway both to you and to another commenter—the very thing I wanted to avoid—but I value you as a person and did not want to leave you feeling negatively if I could change that. I hope this does not affect your enjoyment or experience with how you were having fun with my au, and if it does I am deeply regretful. However, I do have to set boundaries and make sure I’m doing okay or there would be no AU at all. Thanks for your understanding and I hope you have a day as kind as you are.

[fortune-maiden]

Feveruary Day 7: 'I'm still not used to being taken care of'

Live action verse! :D

And also a double drabble because Huang Shaotian Cheng Xiaoshi cannot be contained!

“ – and you can forget the top bunk, when it comes to concussions, let me tell you – ” Cheng Xiaoshi’s mouth didn’t stop moving as he went in and out of the living room, bringing more of their bedroom back with him each time. From the couch, Lu Guang watched helplessly, icepack to his brow, unable to follow the dizzying whirlwind of conversation. That wasn’t because of his actual dizziness. That was Cheng Xiaoshi’s usual effect. “There. We. Go!” The two-hour countdown was set, and Cheng Xiaoshi nodded at the filled up room satisfied. With everything he needed for the night, and then some, he settled in his chair cross-legged with a bag of chips and a smug grin. “It’s funny, isn’t it. I’ve taken so many blows to the head tonight yet I’m still perfectly fine. You, meanwhile, took one and landed in the hospital. Aiyah, lie back down. Didn’t you hear me say I’ll look after you? Is that so hard to accept?” “No, it’s just,” the corners of Lu Guang’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards. “I guess I’m still not used to being taken care of.” Cheng Xiaoshi gave him a long look. Then piled on another blanket.

[marchtooctober]

It's been some time since i posted something 😅

My contribution for prompt "Desperate"

@dailytwiyorprompts

▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎

“Yor.”

“Yesh?”

“Your scarf. It's falling off.”

“Oh… Shorry.”

It was one of those dinner nights of Loid and Yor, a regular practice that is part of their cover as Mr. and Mrs. Forger. Loid managed to pull off the date smoothly at the cost of another intoxicated Yor. At this point, he's now surprisingly used to it after so many times.

But maybe, this is the last.

“Thish too hard.” With struggling effort, Yor tried to fix her scarf.

“Let me.”

“N-No it'sh alright…” She mumbled.

Loid grabbed the scarf and wrapped it around Yor. As he adjusted the cloth, he felt Yor's warm breath on his hands. The sensation made Loid feel fuzzy inside, as if the warmth has spread all throughout his body. Then he quickly pulled back his hands, quite abashed.

“Thank you.” Said Yor and turned away.

She walked a few steps ahead while tapping her cheeks.

Loid wondered if he made a mistake. He didn't want Yor to be wary of him. But he couldn't help himself.

“L-Let ush cake some for Franky and Anya.”

Despite the messed up sentence, Loid understood.

“I don't think we can buy cake at this time. It's already late. I'll just bake one tomorrow if that's alright with you.” He replied.

“M'kay.” Said Yor and continued walking.

It's deep in the night and only a few people are still out, just like them.

The cobblestone pavement carpeted with dry foliage, the leafless trees line up the path. Howling of chilly wind signifies the near ending of fall. And it won't be long before winter comes, and a lonely one at that.

No matter how much he yearns for an ordinary life, Loid will never attain it. The so-called “home” where he wants to be, is a place very far from his reach.

“Loi? Where are you? Loi!”

Yor's voice took him out of his grim reverie. He rushed to her.

“I’m here. Hold on to my arm and walk carefully.”

Loid held out his arm but Yor declined.

“I’m fine. I jush thought you gone shomwere.”

Hearing those words, Loid swallowed hard.

“You don’t have to worry. I… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere..” Replied Loid and smiled bitterly.

They continued, Yor still walking ahead. Loid stared at her back and felt the unfamiliar sting of guilt. And where did it come from? Guilt out of saying those words? Handful of words added to the pile of lies. But it was necessary, lying for his mission. Yet, he couldn't shake the heaviness of guilt.

There shouldn't be any emotional hindrance. He knows it well. But for a second, he was possessed with selfishness and tried to reach out his trembling hand. Loid simply wanted to hold Yor’s hand.

Suddenly, he quickly remembered that he had no right to do such a thing.

Who he is right now is nothing but a disposable mask. Loid Forger is just one among the many passing shadows of Twilight.

Pain is welling up in his chest. Twilight realized his fault. The suppression of feelings that he didn't want to face.

Is this love after all?

What he knows about romance is mostly from theory but never experienced the real thing. It’s unfitting to someone like him. Feelings and sentiments were never beneficial to him.

Drawn to the flame he can't touch. As a last resort, he called out to Yor.

“Yor.”

“Hmm?”

“Can we take our time walking?”

“Why?”

“B-Because…”

“Okay, Loi… If you want sho. Let'sh walk sowlowly.”

Yor beamed a smile and turned away. Loid was thankful that he was walking behind. He didn't want Yor to see the few tears that escaped his eyes.

This little distance between them is the only thing that keeps Loid from losing his sanity. He knows that even this moment will fade as a memory once everything is over. And he will be left with nothing but a blank canvas for him to paint another fakery.

That's all there is to it.

▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎

[wsknbfanaccnt]

Happy Birthday Akashi 2024

A birthday drabble for my beloved husband. Love you Sei <3

"It's Yukimaru's birthday tomorrow..." Akashi pondered, sitting on the bed of his Rakuzan dorm. He took a sharp sigh, immediately standing up and packing his things. Just for a little overnight stay.

Oats, applesauce, wheat flour, cinnamon, molasses, and of course carrots for a carrot cake. He thanked his Mother for teaching him how to cook, putting the treat in the oven as he wiped his forehead. Baking was quite tiring in itself, he concluded.

His horse neighed happily with his presence. A quick ride was much needed for the both of them, galloping off into the edges of the Akashi property. The wind through his hair, the rhythm of his hooves. A perfect day.

Even more so, as the redhead did love to spoil his horse. Grooming, massages, cleaning, polishing; he did everything. All the while telling stories of his adventures as a high school student to his horsey.

It ended with a small cake and a thin stick of carrot as a candle. Hiragana of "Yukimaru" written in yogurt. Akashi hadn't even been done singing the birthday song when the white horse devoured the said treat from the plate... but all worth it as he nuzzled his nose against his owner's chest. The latter took a deep breath, smiling softly.

"Happy birthday, Yukimaru."

"Sei-chan, it's not only Yukimaru's birthday today, yknow," Akashi whipped his head around, seeing the people he loved the most. The Rakuzan and Teiko team.

And Reo holding a cake of his own, "Akashi Seijuro" written with icing.

"This was so hard to plan ssu...! We had to get in contact with your butler and arranged time for you and-"

"Shut up Kise, nanodayo."

"Happy Birthday, Akashi-kun," Kuroko stepped forward, rolling out a mat on the grass.

"Let's sit down already, I want to eat cake... You don't mind if I have a bigger slice, do you Aka-chin~?"

"Akashi!! I got you a present!!" Hayama almost shoved a box at the redhead's face. The face that looked stunned. He had no idea that his friends arranged something like this... well, as is the point of a surprise party after all. Akashi hadn't even recalled that today was his special day too.

"Oh yes... it is my birthday today as well, I suppose." he said, his lips curling into a smile.

Remembering his worries of losing his friends back in middle school... the thought seemed so silly now.

I've gained wonderful friends... don't you think, Mother?

Tags (join my taglist!):

@chosenimagines @souls-heart @padmsanakin @japeneselunchtimerush

[averycutesalamander]

hi my BELOVED omg im totes gonna enter your lil sal.150 event that is SUCH A CUTE IDEA and of course CONGRATS!! YIPPIE!!!

n e ways….. my little detail is that i lov louder venues show me da party and i will be THERE doesn’t matter if its 5 or 5000 people i love the SESH!!! as for hobbies….. drinking tennis. in the sun. in the rain. even if it’s tanning or sunbathing lying on the court i love it i am a summer sport enjoyer so much so erm yeah ok this is actually becoming a very long detail rather than a little one so yeah CONGRATS AGAIN LOVE U !!!!!

ohhh i see.. hmm interesting.... i think boothill would take you...

Paintballing!!

While it's not a classic summer sport by any means, it's definitely engaging, and he's always delighted by any form of shooting. Add some pregame drinks to the mix, and you're guaranteed a good time. If it's just the two of you, my condolences, because you're gonna get absolutely WRECKED by the end of it. He's merciless unless you ask very sweetly ahead of time for him to go easy on you, in which case he's only mostly merciless.

Bring friends for a more balanced experience!! It could be you and him versus the world, and he'd have your back without fail. With him by your side, you're damn near guaranteed a win. Alternatively, if you want to gang up on him with your friends, I fear you'll be on the run for the whole game 😔 He very shamelessly targets you constantly. Now, if you want to get clever with it, you could use yourself as bait in hopes that your team can score some hits on him. Be careful, though, because if he manages to corner you on your own... Well, I'm sure you can make a guess.

[chronically-ghosted]

I was thinking about that episode of The Office where Pam gets pissed that someone made a mess in the microwave and didn’t clean it up. Imagine a scenario where the reader happens to vent about this to Max and he decides to hunt down whoever did it and leaves them a threatening message like “clean up your food or you will BE food” or something like that, and then later the reader is pleasantly surprised at how clean the break room is now and asks Max if he did anything and he’s like “me? Noooo, never….”

-🐦‍⬛

okay so not to be derivative but i'm picturing max's relationship with reader as like a guardrail from his worst impulses. but any time the potential opportunity arises, he's like "murder? yes? murder now? murder please just one time a little murder a crumbling of murder 😟😟😟"

"You're no-o-o-t listening to me-e-e-e . . ."

The back of your neck smells like the curry you had for dinner, the spicy heat practically leaking out of your pores. He drops his lips to the skin below your hairline, grips your hips then uses the bottom of your ribcage to pull you closer - but he can't resist. His fangs drop, just a bit, the scent of curry making his mouth run wet, the heat and freshly-spiced tang of your blood building a groan in the back of his throat.

He pricks you, just a bit with the tip of his fangs, and you shudder in his arms. The plate you were washing slips from your loose grasp and splashes into the sudsy sink water.

"No," you sigh breathlessly, body going limp as his fangs press firmer into your skin, "I was listening t-to you - the whole time - I swear."

"Then you can tell me all about the procedure I'm getting that I just spent ten minutes explaining to you."

You swallow, the muscles of your neck shifting beneath his mouth. Your hand freezes inches from the back of his head. "Procedure?"

"Oh yes," he nuzzles your hair, relishing in the way he can practically smell your heart pound. Nerves. You are so busted. "The one where I'm getting my penis barbed like a cat's."

"What?"

He snickers, showing mercy for your sake, and he releases his grip on your upper waist, fingers inches from the curve of your breasts. Max is not remotely surprised when you turn around and hit him with one of your infamous 'Max, I am very cross with you' glares. In fact, he was hoping for it - kinda turns him on, actually.

He responds with your infamous glare with his infamous smirk. Max shifts his weight, sinking over you, hands wrapping around the edge of the counter, invading like your space like it was his personal playground.

"Baby, as much as I like hearing the sound of my own voice, I like watching your mouth work so much better." Those sweet, perfect lips snarl open - god, he loves to rile you up - but before you can yell, or smack him with the hand pinned between you, or headbutt him like you did that one time when he wouldn't stop teasing your tits with both wrists tied to his bed posts, Max steps back, gives you space to settle. He takes your chin very gently in his thumb and forefinger, knowing damn well you are not above biting, especially when you're in a bad mood. Like the one you've been in all night.

"You haven't said more than ten words since we made dinner." He taps your lip with his thumb and it's like the fight bleeds out of you. One poke, even gentle, is enough to puncture whatever has been winding you up. "It's not like you to be so quiet. You're somewhere else tonight. And I don't like it. What's up?"

He taps you once more before letting go, but never drops your gaze. Why would he? When this is the first real look you've given him all night. When you first started dating, you'd give him the same look and it'd make his skin itch. Like he could feel the strength of your reproach scraping off the first layer of his skin and he wasn't sure what you or he would find when all the layers were gone.

Now he revels in it. Wants you to keep scraping, keeping looking, keep - he remembers the relief of sunburn, pink and hot, and he misses it. But not when he's with you.

You look at him now like you're not surprised by his words, his kindness, but unsure if he realizes what he's actually done. What he means by all of this. But he's so sure. More sure than he's ever been.

You're convinced what you see is real. You glance away and sigh. A deep breath that has been seated somewhere in the pit of your chest all day.

"I think it's my boss. She has been on my ass all month after the new mandate from corporate. And I don't mind the work, the pressure --,"

"You're good at it." He interjects. That makes you grin faintly, glance back at him. You tug at his wrist with two fingers, then slide your palm against his.

"Yeah. I am good at it."

He squeezes your hand. Go on.

"But she's started being cruel. Saying these horrible things. Making comments about how I'll never make partner at this rate. I know she's under stress too but . . ." You shake your head. "I dunno. People have been saying shitty things about us to. That we've been dating longer than we've announced and the only reason I got this position in the first place is because I fucked my way to the top and -,"

The growl breaks free from the back of his throat before he can stop it. He doesn't like loosing control, doesn't like feeling that this creature inside of him is more powerful than him in his fine three-piece suits. But that rage runs parallel to a deeper instinct, one that both he and the creature shares: mine. Mine has been hurt. Injured. Mine above all else.

"Max, please." You run a hand up the knot of his spine to the back of his hair, dragging your nails lightly against his skin, an intentional distraction. "It's fine, it's just work being shitty . . ."

It's not okay, he snarls in his head, but he hears the counter whine beneath his white-knuckles so he lets go and nods. Turns his head into your neck to find your scent, to soothe him.

You chuckle as he folds up into you, like a puppy ashamed for being naughty. "And on top of all that, some fucking asshole didn't clean out the microwave after using it and now the whole floor smells like burnt lichen and peat."

He frowns at you, narrowing his eyes. "Sounds like troll food. Probably an IT gremlin. Want me to kill him for you?"

You laugh louder this time and briefly touch his eyebrow with the pad of your middle finger. "No, please, don't but - wait, I thought trolls were undead adjacent. You can do that?"

"Happy to find out for you, baby," Max purrs, kissing your palm as it trails by his lips.

You roll your eyes when those gentle kisses turn to little nips with his teeth. "No, Max, not every problem can be solved with murder."

With an exaggerated sigh, Max scoops you up into his arms. You let out a little shriek when his arm knocks your knees into the air. He thinks you might be playing the helpless victim a little too much when you bury your face into his chest. You know how much it drives him fucking wild when you do.

"We won't know until we try!" Max exclaims. You giggle beneath his chin. "But since you won't let me have my fun decapitating those who have wronged my Great Love, then I guess I'll just have to eat you."

You yelp again as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the couch.

God, he'd be the happiest man undead if you glared at him like that for the rest of his immortal life.

And then he takes off his shirt.

Your expression changes. "I ate that curry because you like the smell."

His next words are jumbled, enunciation difficult around his ever-growing fangs. "I know you thid, baby."

"Hiya!"

To his delight, the gray-skinned, warty lump jumps when Max slams his hand down onto the damp cubicle wall. Well, as best as a gray, warty lump can.

It swings its doughy gaze towards him and huffs. There's moss growing out of what used to be the office coffee cup every new employee receives on their first day, the green spilling out onto the desk covered in dirt, candy wrappers, and white mushrooms. The IT basement is dark, smells faintly of wet dog and sewage, and Max is pretty sure he heard something squelch beneath his Armani shoe when he stepped off the elevator.

The things he does for love should earn him a Medal of Honor.

Or at least a very extensive blow job.

"So you're the one who likes to use the upstairs microwave to reheat your mackerel and sheep hearts!"

Not a question. The troll does as trolls do and blink at him, as irritated as slow blinking can communicate. Max's smile never slips from his face, but he feels his cheek twitch.

"Well, that makes this easier for both of us. I don't have to run around this fucking pit of despair looking for the right troll, and you don't have to live in fear for too much longer because I'll make this quick -"

Max is a baby vampire. He hates to admit it but in comparison to the powers possessed by some of his superiors, and especially the Corporate Overlords, being fast, charming, and able to turn his eyes bright red is kind of bush league.

He can't turn into a wolf, or a bat, or command a sea of rats to follow his will. He can, however, in recent years, call forth a darkness so cold and black it makes anything with a beating heart shit their pants.

But he's not exactly sure how troll physiology works. He just hopes for whatever constitutes as defecation you can expect from a troll.

"You are not to use the upstairs microwave ever, ever again."

A ice cold wind swoops into the basement of nowhere. The weak shadows cast by the blinking florescent lights strengthen, grow deep and dark and move like spirits against the walls, whispering something unholy as they emerge into existence. The cubicles shudder and one by one, the trolls in their cubes hunker down, a few groans and cries of fear adding to the howl of the wind.

The back of the cubicle shudders as the wheely chair makes contact. Those half-open eyes are fully split apart, the needle prick irises double in their size. IT Troll shivers as Max takes a step forward, his face mutilated and twisted into its full demonic scowl. He swears it whimpers.

Good.

"If I even hear that you stepped onto the floor again, I will come down here and find out just what troll blood tastes like. I'll tear you apart with my bare hands. You and every other creature in this fucking dungeon. Do I make myself crystal fucking clear?"

He's gotten his voice to do this thing where it's all deep and growly and echoey and he could not be more delighted by its effects.

The troll whimpers audibly now, nodding rapidly, and the sound is like two boulders smacking against each other.

All at once the shadows retreat, the wind stops howling, and Max lowers to the ground. Levitation - how fucking cool is that?

The basement is brighter after the shadows are gone, even if it's still darker than an English moor. The other trolls peak out of their cubicles. The one who has earned his theatrical wrath squeaks, when Max just smiles at him.

"Dandy! Have a good one!"

He whistles as he heads back to the elevator, a few of the trolls closest to him leaping under their desks as he walks by. He jabs the button to the top floor, grinning from ear to ear. The doors glide shut and he's off, climbing floor after floor, back towards the slightly-more-alive.

Max tugs his phone out of his pocket, unable to shove the grin off his face.

Solved your problem, baby cakes 😈 U can thank me l8r 🍆💦

The three dots appear.

Then disappear.

Then appear.

What exactly did you do, Max Phillips? Need to remind you I work in legal??

He grins and then resolutely ignores the rapid string of texts. He sets his phone to silent and slides the vibrating block towards his crotch.

Max!

!!!!!!!

MAX! WHAT DID YOU DO?!

I'M GOING TO KILL YOU

Oh yeah, he's definitely getting the Medal of Honor of Blowjobs.

thank you so much for sending this in! I haven't written anything in a hot minute and it felt great to revisit Frat Lestat!

my max phillips masterlist