#please have this snippet that goes nowhere

[sloughhousestaircase]

Some spoilers for The Secret Hours

“Look… what name they got you living under now?”

“Max.”

“Max. Jackson Lamb.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Jackson Lamb.”

“Look, this one here’s Cartwright Jr. Try to only hold it against him with one hand, cause with your other I’m going to need you to keep him out of trouble. Unless you’ve got…standing arrangements to play bridge, or whatever it is the old and useless do.”

“It’s chess in the park, actually. But I’m sure if my hands get full, your lad here can move a pawn or two for me. Can he read a chessboard?”

“I’m not even convinced he can read.”

[xo-violent]

BOY FROM NOWHERE

note: trying something, just a snippet.

—

cecil walked into the room to make an announcement, “there is someone i want you all to meet.” this caused everyone to gather around in complete silence and confusion, murmurs spread across the room before the doors opened revealing… a young male?

he made his way over towards cecil and stood up tall, looming over the group. “good morning. my name is [m/n], im 18 years old.” he greeted the team, clasping his hands together as he bowed down. “today is my first day, so please take care of me!”

no one spoke a word, not before rex did. “hah?” the room erupted with questions before cecil could speak.

it was terrible timing. he wouldn’t have invited [m/n] but wasn’t left with much of a choice, its [m/n] who decides where he goes and sadly, he chose here to do so.

with the chaos going on with the team, cecil glared at [m/n]. “just what are you planning here [m/n]?”

“oh nothing, you know me.” without another word, [m/n] walks into the crowd waiting making the noise stop as they stare him down.

clearing his throat, cecil began to talk about business.

—

[m/n] sat on the edge of a building, observing how the world was constantly changing. “pathetic,” he muttered to himself, watching as the supposed heros saving the day by getting innocent civilians killed in the process.

jumping down, he made his way over towards invincible, who was busy fighting up against two men whilst trying to save a family. “need a hand?” he tilted his head.

grunting from his pain, invincible nodded causing the one of the men to divert his attention towards [m/n]. without wasting anytime, [m/n] began to fight and quickly knocked out the man within seconds before moving onto the next one. saving the family of three.

invincible’s jaw dropped.

“just- just who are you?” he asked, shocked at how simple it was to take down those guys. [m/n] knew that if he didn’t step in then both the family and guys would have perished, whether it’d be by accident or not.

he just stood there waiting for his response. [m/n] only smiled politely, “did you forget me already, grayson? im [m/n], maybe you have alzheimers.”

“w-what… how- how did you know?”

“hmm?”

“how did you know my name?!” [m/n] stared mark down looking just as puzzled as him, “what do you mean? i think you might have alzheimers, invincible.”

—

hanging out with [m/n]… well, if you could even call it a hangout, more like him saving the day as [m/n] trailed behind… was weird for mark, he could have sworn that he said his name previously but had no actual proof. when he asked the civilians in which were the ones he saved, they only said that they heard him say invincible and no other name.

“i didn’t hear anything, he called you invincible, is that not your name?” the mother of the family said softly, still shaken up.

mark’s mouth felt dry, mumbling a small thanks as he left. he immediately flew towards base and barged into the room filled with his… friends, all overwhelming cecil with questions about [m/n].

“i’m asking you, just who is [m/n]?” mark demanded answers, along with some of the team. apparently mark wasn’t the only one to have been with [m/n] during the fight.

cecil turned away, reminiscing about his first encounter with [m/n]. “i can’t answer that myself, he’s still a mystery to me and everyone.”

[resident-idiot-simp]

Snippet of running into Rogue's Parents

(x)

They are out in the middle of nowhere South. They had a mission and they're done now and just hanging around because Rogue missed her home region. Logan is just hanging out with her to keep her company and listening to her rambling.

Logan's having a great time but paused slightly as he heard a surprised mermer. Marie pauses too so in sync with Logan like always.

"Ana?"

Logan stifles a growl as he pulls her closer. She goes easily as she tentatively turns. She freezes and Logan immediately isn't pleased because Marie's breathing turns shaky.

The person approaches quickly and Logan turns pulling the kid further into himself eyes a bit wild. *Kits upset, not good, bad badbadbad*

The man freezes face surprised and unsure but before anything else can happen Marie speaks.

"Logan it's ok that's... that's my father."

Logan goes tense but relaxes his grip slightly and bites back the growl crawling up his throat.

"Ana- I ... Can can I hug you please?" The man sounds heartbroken.

Marie hesitantly taps Logan's arm signaling to let her go. Logan does just as hesitantly and watches the man carefully as Marie steps forward.

The man meets her looking at her like if he blinks she'll disappear. She watches him carefully still out of reach, "Yo-you can't touch my skin."

"What?"

"My skin you can't touch it. I ran away for a reason I-I'm different now."

"What are you talking about?"

Logan takes half a step forward unsure but Marie continues, "I'm a mutant."

Silence

Logan tenses as does the kid, but the man just looks shocked before speaking, "Why would I care? You're my daughter."

[the-universal-sun]

fiddleford being gentle with little stan when he first finds him after ford goes through the portal? maybe he comes to yell at ford and finds stan with a burned shoulder trying to work through being little to get his brother back? ❤️

Hey guys and the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it’s so late, life got away from me, has been hectic, and I wanted to really put my focus into writing this request. If there are any missing “I” in a word, deeply apologies, my keyboard “i” cover broke halfway through writing this. There are some mentions of infections and medical treatment for Stan’s burn, just to warn you if any of that skeeves you out! If this seems way better than my previous work, it’s because I took about a week to write it! I really hope you enjoy this piece, and I hope the anon who requested it is still here! Please let me know if I've captured your vision!!!  

As always, I’m open for helpful advice on my writing/execution!

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

     “Ford! Stanford Pines you come out here right now! I demand we talk!” Fiddleford H. McGucket was mad. Fuming. Pissed beyond all belief. He had just remembered some snippets of the portal incident and he knows his old partner (and little) was still working on it for that devil! He needs to make that man see some sense. Thankfully, Stanford hadn’t changed his locks or the passcode to the basement, so he’s able to stop down three flights of stairs to the bottom floor of the lab to confront him.

     “Stanford! I know you can hear me! Come out here right-now?” He stops short at the sight before him. The portal is broken down, machinery and wiring everywhere, broken and sparking. That’s not what makes him stop, no, it’s the figure in front of the control center. He looks…he looks ragged, haggard, even. His hair long and greasy, his skin looks dirty and sweaty, and he looks almost exactly like Stanford. Except gruffer. It hasn’t been that long since Fiddleford has seen his old partner, has it? He can’t have changed this much in just a few months. It’s when he gets a glimpse at the hands that it clicks in his mind. That’s not Stanford. He tries to think rationally before he freaks out and starts attacking the stranger, he’s gotten arrested for that a couple times already. He looks like Stanford, just rounder and greasier and with five fingers instead of six…He vaguely remembers a discussion him and Stanford had back in college, they were celebrating finishing their first set of finals with some well earned and homemade Hooch courtesy of you-know-who when the man had started muttering and was on the verge of sobbing about a “Lee”, and when FIddleford asked who that was, all Stanford could manage to get out before passing out was “M’ Twin”. And they never spoke of that incident again, Fiddleford putting that memory on a backburner until now. 

     So this must be that Lee fella, Stanford’s twin. Something must have happened if he’s here in that state and Stanford is nowhere to be seen. Something bad. This fills him with panic instead of anger, worry for his Bookworm his friend overpowering his negative emotions towards him. He walks quickly towards Lee, his steps slowing down as he gets the full view of this man, his ears picking up his intelligible muttering. He looks more than greasy and unwashed, he looks sick. He can see gauze on his shoulder, stained with pink and a different color, one he can’t quite make out in the poor lighting of the lab, but it twists his stomach nonetheless.

     “H-hey, Lee? Um-what happ-are you okay? Is F-Ford-” Fiddleford doesn’t quite know what to say to this man, who looks both so much like Ford but so different. Who looks sick. He makes the mistake of putting his hand on the man’s shoulder, flinching back as he turns around violently with a fist raised promising a world of pain. Fiddleford shrinks into himself with a small and terrified squeal. Lee stumbles back, though, eyes glossy and distant, the defensive act just muscle memory at this point. He seems like he’s about to slide against the console and fall, soFiddleford reaches out to help steady him, thankful for all the pig wrangling and calf birthing he’s had to do in his life back on the farm, Lee is heavier than Ford was is. He gets a better look at Lee’s face and feels his own pale, blood rapidly draining and leaving him feeling cold. Whatever injury he has on his shoulder has to be inflected, the man is burning up and sweating something fierce, low and intelligible mumbles spilling from his mouth, his bangs sticking to his forehead, the slight smell of sickness wafting over him. They’re both lucky Ford was able to synthesize and stock high grade antibiotics in case they ever needed them, because he needs them, that or a hospital, and he doesn’t know anything about Ford’s twin, not even enough to explain what had happened to him. 

     Propping Lee up against the console and making sure he wouldn’t fall, he quickly managed to run to a storage room to the right, temperature controlled to keep cool. He finds the medical supplies very diminished, but most of the antibiotics were there. Both worrying and relieving him. Ford had gotten injured so much to deplete their medical supplies this much? They were essentially prepared for an apocalypse. But the relief is that Ford never needed these hospital grade antibiotics, only to be used for serious infection. He collects the medicine, bandages, and any other thing he can think of, putting them in an empty first aid bag and slinging it around his shoulder, making his way back to Lee as fast as he could manage. Fiddleford hauls him up and leans him against his side, stumbling his way to the elevator that he could never bring himself to trust. He has to now, he can’t carry this man up all the flights of stairs that lead into the house. 

     Fiddleford breathes in deeply, glancing over at Lee from the corner of his eye, releasing his breath when he sees he’d hardly even registered change in surroundings or the fact that he had moved, his eyes gazing distantly down onto the floor. Fiddleford resolutely moves him into the open elevator, propping him against the wall and quickly pressing the buttons needed to bring them back up to the main part of the house. Lee stumbles as the elevator moves, an almost frightened whimper escaping him as the elevator creaks and groans, chugging slowly along, his hands finally moving on their own to grasp onto Fiddleford in a move that puts the skinny man almost in front of him. Something deep inside him tightened at the sight; Lee looked more like a lost child than a grown man. "Stay with me, Lee," Fiddleford murmured, his voice steadier than he felt. "We’re gonna get you sorted out. Just hang in there, okay?" A low whimper escaped Lee's lips, eliciting a rush of empathy from Fiddleford. It was clear that Stanford's twin had been through an ordeal far beyond what he could comprehend. The least he could do was ensure that Lee would be safe for the time being. 

     As the elevator doors dinged open, Fiddleford slowly moved with Lee out into the dark room, just registering how cold it was-is the heating even on? Was the bill paid or was all the power just directed to that damn portal room? Fiddleford glanced around, his mind racing. “I need to get you to a bathroom and a bed,” he decided. He gently helped Lee step out of the elevator, the man leaning heavily against him. He maneuvered him toward the stairs, taking them one step at a time and going very slowly, Fiddleford may be tall but Lee was bulkier than he was, he didn’t want to risk Lee toppling over and falling down the stairs, injuring both himself further and the one currently helping him walk. They stumble their way upstairs, Fiddleford having to haul Lee up again when he started to slump too closely to the side, and towards the extra bathroom on the second floor-Fiddleford remembers this one having better lighting and not being as cramped as the downstairs bathroom. He gently deposits Lee on the toilet, worrying about his lack of response to the movements and light being turned on-at least the power still works up here-ever present. Setting the first aid bag on the coffee table, he knelt beside Lee, anxiety gnawing at him. “Okay… let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.” Fiddleford pulled back the gauze on Lee’s shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat. The shoulder was inflamed, swollen with an angry red hue, the bandaging far too stained for comfort. He can’t even tell what was burned into his shoulder from how bad it was. Lee’s eyes fluttered open slightly, revealing a hint of recognition. 

     “Wha—who…” Lee’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and he couldn’t manage to say full words. Fiddleford didn’t know how much he knew about Ford’s work, meaning he doesn’t know if Lee even knows about him, but, with how out of it he is he figures some small trickery shouldn’t be too bad, people tend to respond better to help by people they know, or well, are told they know.

     “It’s just me, Lee, your good ol’ pal, Fidds. You remember, right? We’re great friends, you n’ I.” He holds his breath as Lee just nods along, the fever and infection ravaging his body obviously making it difficult to properly think back on his words. 

     “For…” Lee trails off, his word soft and incomplete, but Fiddleford knows what he was trying to say and felt a pang of heartbreak at the mention of Stanford.

      “He’s… he’s not here right now. But I’m gonna take care of you, alright? Just focus on me.” He carefully began cleaning the wound, glancing up to gauge Lee’s reaction. Lee sniffled, biting his lip, but didn’t pull away, his eyes still hazy and glazed over. Fiddleford doesn’t think he’ll be lucid for a while now. Each moment that passed seemed to drag on, filled with Lee’s fragile breaths and the quiet sounds of their surroundings. What was supposed to be a simple act of care felt monumental. Fiddleford bandaged the injury carefully, relying on the knowledge they had accumulated over the years. “You’re gonna be alright, Lee. Just gotta get the antibiotics into ya, and you’ll start feeling better in no time.” He goes and pulls out the bottles of antibiotics, some IV fluids to help with Lee’s obvious dehydration, and the collapsible IV pole that he’d made-maybe a bit overkill for the time but it was perfect for now. He rounds Lee, finding his eyes already on him. “Heya, Lee, can I see your arm? I need ta’ give ya’ some antibiotics to help with your infection.” But the man made no movement or noise indicating he understood what Fiddleford was saying. He took his arm in gentle hands, swabbing and cleaning the inner elbow before inserting the butterfly needle-hushing Lee when he made strangled whimpering noises, seeing a glimmer of tears come to his eyes. He pats Lee’s head, unconsciously cooing to him as he leans his head into Fiddleford’s touches, a soft sigh and hum passing through his lips.

     “Let’s getcha up now, need to get you in some clothes, though m’ afraid no shirts for a little while, you need as little as possible on that burn o’ yours.” Fiddleford stood up, stumbling in surprise as Lee’s hand grasped his, standing up with him and still staring, more clarity in his eyes, but still nothing indicative of being fully present. Fiddleford took a steadying breath, trying to calm the rising tide of worry threatening to overwhelm him. As they shuffled into the small, dimly lit hallway, Lee's gaze began to clear a bit, though it still flickered with confusion and fear. Fiddleford was grateful for the flicker of awareness and desperately hoped that Lee would be able to grasp even a thread of comfort in this chaos. “C’mon, Lee. Let’s get you settled, alright?” he murmured. The soft squeeze of Lee’s hand around his reassured him that the man could understand him to an extent, enough for his body to respond, at the very least. He makes his way to an open door, peering inside to see if it was acceptable enough for Lee to sleep in. It seems that this was the room he was staying in, though, if the clothes thrown about and rustled blankets on a small bed were of any indication. Steadily, they hobble into the room, Fiddleford holding Lee’s hand and steadying him as they walk, keeping an eye on the IV to make sure it doesn’t get snagged or trip over anything. He sets Lee down on the edge of the bed, making sure he won’t fall over, before searching around the room for some soft and hopefully clean pants, only finding some faded sweats. They didn’t seem too filthy, so Fiddleford deemed them as okay for now and turned around before stopping dead center, eyes assessing the scene before him. Lee had, from somewhere, grabbed a teddy bear-one with a remarkable similarity to Stanford-and was grasping it tightly, his body hunching over to bury his face in the soft cloth. He could see the slight trembling in Lee’s shoulders as he held the toy, hiding behind its plush form. An epiphany struck Fiddleford…it’s possible that Ford and Lee were more similar than just in looks. 

     “Hey, buddy,” Fiddleford spoke softly, moving closer, careful not to startle Lee. “That’s a nice bear you’ve got there…” as he came closer, he saw a blanket strewn on the bed behind Lee, a large quilt with what looked to be some crudely sewn Teddy Bears on it. Fiddleford’s heart ached at the sight of Lee clutching the teddy bear, drawn into its warmth and softness as he huddled over it, the blanket behind him just solidifying his thoughts. The plush creature and quilt seemed to offer a sense of security amid all this chaos and confusion. He knelt beside the bed, keeping his voice soft and calm. “Hey there, Lee. Let’s get ya’ some pants, alright? Just something comfortable for now.” Lee remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the bear. Fiddleford moved quickly to the small dresser, pulling out the faded sweats he had spotted earlier. He returned to Lee, who hadn't shifted from his position, burying his face against the bear's plush fur. “Hang tight, ‘right?” Fiddleford said, moving in front of Lee. He carefully helped him remove the old, dirty pants, mindful of Lee’s discomfort. With each movement, he offered gentle reassurances, softening the air with his presence. “We’re almost done.” He knows the other man can’t understand him, not fully, but Fiddleford knows from experience that talking to a kid or someone in this mindset can help keep them calm, and calm is what Lee needs right now. 

     “How’s about we lay back down now, okay?  Rest yer’ head on that pillow and just breathe in, ‘kay? Some quiet time.” Lee absentmindedly nodded, his grip on the bear tightening momentarily before loosening again. He leaned back, still looking dazed and feverish, but more comfortable now that he was semi-clean and dressed with fluid running into him. Fiddleford decided to remain quiet for a little while, too, letting the soft sounds of the house settle around them. The air was a little chilly, but Fiddleford figured they could tackle that issue soon enough. He slowly brings his hand towards Lee’s head, watching for any signs of flinching or cowering before he lowers it and softly begins to stroke his hair, cooing softly as Lee’s eye fluttered closed, his head leaning into the hand gently caressing him, soft murmurs escaping his lips. Fiddleford, with one practiced hand, pulls the blankets over Lee, the thinner ones first, the thicker comforter that was piled on the floor, and finally, Lee’s well-loved quilt, tucking them around the gentle creature before him, keeping his IV arms out of most of the layers besides to top quilt.

     Fiddleford's heart warmed at the sight of Lee nestled under the blankets, the calming rhythm of his breathing creating a peaceful atmosphere in the room, he felt a swell of protective instinct for the man beside him. “Just like that, Lee. Nice n’ comfy n’ cozy,” he murmured softly, continuing to thread his fingers through Lee’s hair, taking care to avoid any tug on the IV line. Lee seemed to lean further into Fiddleford’s touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he began to relax into the layers of warmth wrapped around him. As Fiddleford settled into a rhythm, the gentle motion of his hand seemed to draw Lee deeper into a state of comfort-deeper into his headspace if Lee’s soft chewing of the bear’s ear before Fiddleford removed it was anything to go by. The world around them faded into the background, the cold chill of the air outside kept at bay by the cocoon of blankets. The sound of breathing filled the room—the steady rise and fall of Lee’s chest mixed with Fiddleford’s quieter, more measured breaths.

     “Y’know, I used to do this for your brother, too,” Fiddleford’s voice cut through the silence, “When he felt younger-smaller-the world feeling too big for him. I was there to help him and take care of him. I wouldn’t mind being that person for you, neither. I don’t know what happened with our Ford, but I hope you’ll tell me.” Fiddleford breathes into the silence, just staring at Lee, who’s dozing off surrounded by his teddy and warmth of the blankets. “I want to take care of you, I’ve missed takin’ care of someone, actually. N’ I have more than enough room in my heart to add another person.” Lee made a soft, indistinct noise, his eyes still closed, as if he somehow understood the intent behind Fiddleford's words. Fiddleford smiled softly, hoping that the weight of his sincerity could reach Lee’s subconscious, anchoring him in a sea of uncertainty.

     Closing his eyes for just a moment, Fiddleford let the sounds of the house mingle with Lee's breathing, the gentle cadences a soft lullaby. He found his own fatigue creeping in, but he fought it off for the sake of his friend. Lee needed someone to hold firm and steady in this chaotic world, and he was more than willing to take on that role. After some time, Fiddleford felt the room grow quieter—Lee's breathing became more even, deeper. He risked glancing at Lee's face, noticing the way his features had relaxed under the quilt, the tension that had gripped him slowly dissipating as he found solace in sleep. There was something reassuring about seeing him at peace like this, a small flicker of hope sparking in Fiddleford’s heart.

     “Just keep resting,” Fiddleford whispered, pulling gently at the edges of the blankets around Lee, tucking him in a bit more snugly. “I’ll be here.” The rest of the night was full of soft snuffles and easy sighs, this little corner-their little corner-of the world tucked away for a few hours, peace falling around them

[djarins-cyare]

WIP Weekend

It’s been a while since I’ve made progress on any of my fics, but I’m trying my best to write something for Kate’s Roll-A-Trope Challenge, so I finally have something I can share a snippet of 🥳

Over the last 14 weeks, I’ve been tagged in 19 WIP Wednesday posts / Last Line games / WIP polls (yes, I keep track!), so thank you to the following lovely people for continuing to think of me even though I’ve been suspiciously quiet 💚:

@burntheedges @nerdieforpedro @604to647 @the-mandawhor1an

@kyberblade @almostfoxglove @for-a-longlongtime @djarins-wife

May I offer you some (totally unedited and marginally redacted) pre-spice Din and f!Reader in the trope genre of secret relationship below the cut…

Swallowing, you blink innocently and ask, “Is there anything else you need before I turn in?” You’re not particularly tired, but you should let him get some rest. Slowly, the angle of Mando’s helmet drops a few centimetres, and he releases a vibrant hum. The few seconds of silence that follow feel charged somehow, full of expectation, and just as you realise where he’s relocated his gaze to, he rumbles a reply in the lowest, sexiest register you’ve heard from him this evening. “So far, you’ve known exactly what I’ve needed without me having to ask.” He pauses again as he slowly tilts his helmet, the silence loaded with promise. “So you tell me. What do I need now?” Your eyes inadvertently dart to his crotch again and… shit. You’re pretty sure something’s happening down there. It looks… harder… larger (if that’s even possible). “You, uh….” Your attempt at an answer goes nowhere since you don’t know what to say. You want this, sure, but you shouldn’t. He’s injured, and you promised your uncle you’d keep your distance, not jump into an intimate act with the guy the first chance you get. After a few deep and shuddering breaths, you manage, “You need a good night’s sleep.” “I do,” he agrees. “But your question was whether I need anything else before you go to bed. Sleep comes after you go. What comes before?” Fuck. His words vibrate through you and disintegrate your misgivings. There’s no logical decision to answer in the way that you do; it just happens. “You… if you want.” A pleased hum resonates through the vocoder. “I do,” he agrees again. “The bacta took away the pain, but if you’re offering some pleasure too….” “Y-yes,” you blurt, halfway between eager and anxious. “But… my uncle will kill me if he finds out.” Mando chuckles. “He’d shoot me first. Our secret, then?” Your pussy dampens at the idea, eyes flashing as you nod your acceptance of his clandestine terms. Suddenly, a secret liaison with the apparently dangerous man you’re supposed to be avoiding for your own good sounds like the most desirable thing in the galaxy.

Yeah, you know me… I can’t just write a single scene; I have to write the whole damn relationship!

So, obviously, this is how their secret relationship gets off the ground. You may have gathered that Reader is a certain High Magistrate’s niece and has been given strict instructions to avoid the new resident of the cabin out on the lava flats. You can look forward to plenty of sneaking around, flimsy excuses, near misses, and suspicious confrontations. Oh, and smut 😏

I can’t believe I only have a month left to write all this. What have I signed up for? I’m so fucked…

*Hates self for not being able to write short stories* /jk

I’m clearly over-excited about finally having something for a WIP post, so I’m going wild and tagging a load of writer mutuals and favourites. Feel free to do any form of WIP post you choose, or ignore me entirely if you’re not up for posting snippets right now (either way, you’re all awesome) 💚

@5oh5 @abbonation @always-andromeda @captainredspade @court-jobi

@davnittbraes @din-cognito @dindjarindiaries @djarinmuse @drewharrisonwriter

@dumfanting @eatommo @evolnoomym @fhatbhabiee @fromthedeskoftheraven

@fuckyeahdindjarin @galaxyedging @grogusmum @happy-beeeps @iamsherlocked-1998

@insomniamamma @ishabull @itsjuststardust @joelalorian @jolapeno

@lady-bess @lahooozaherr @larkoneironaut @littlemisspascal @magpiepills

@morallyinept @mothandpidgeon @newpathwrites @oonajaeadira @penvisions

@prolix-yuy @quicksilvermad @saradika @secretelephanttattoo @sixhours

@sp00kymulderr @studioghibelli @syd-djarin @the-blind-assassin-12 @theetherealbloom

@wannab-urs @whocaresstillthelouvre @whxtedreams @wrathkitty @yopossum

[takemetomyfragiledreams]

I'm never in the mood/never remember to do writing challenges on the days you're supposed to so you know what I'm making shit up and declaring this Feelings Friday

I've been working on a batfam robin!pile farm au that is nowhere near ready to be posted but that has consumed my life up until now and I've been dying to share so here's a snippet of feelings:

For the first couple of weeks, Jason is the one making all the decisions. Tim is quiet when he isn't passed out in the back seat, still recovering from the surgery that had saved his life. He was incredibly lucky to have gone down near one of the few remaining clinics and even luckier to have been near a surgeon at the time. Still, Jason wants to get him checked out and he can't do that without new identities.

As far as the rest of the world is concerned, they're both dead. Keeping Tim from being dragged back into any of the mess they've left behind means that he needs to ditch the Drake and Wayne name. Their ID's end up reading Timothy Jackson and Jason Peter.

They stop into an emergency clinic a couple states away, where the news is still playing footage from Gotham. Tim doesn't so much as look at the TV, but Jason finds his eyes moving to the screen, over and over again. It's like seeing an accident in real time. No matter how hard he tries, he can't look away.

"Nasty stuff," another patient remarks from his side, "but good riddance to all those criminal freaks. Should've put them down a long time ago."

"There were good people there too," Jason says roughly, instead of punching him in the throat.

"Then why didn't they evacuate?"

Tim's name is called, before Jason can beat the logistics of evacuating an entire fucking city in less than a day into the man's useless skull. He stands stiffly to guide Tim to the nurse waiting for them.

The nurse doesn't like the way Tim is silent. She sends Jason out into the hall while she tries to get Tim to admit that Jason is abusing him.

Jason spends the next ten minutes alternating between slow breathing and squeezing his hands so hard they turn white. He tries not to think about his mother, bruised and battered. He tries not to let it get to him that someone could think he would brutalize someone like that; someone who doesn't know he's spent years putting abusers in the ground.

When she calls Jason back in, she looks distinctly frustrated.

Tim stares straight ahead.

"The doctor will see you soon," she says on her way out. "Please let me know if there's anything you need."

Jason sits down in the too small chair beside the examination table. Tim reaches out to take his hand and holds on all throughout the long minutes of waiting, the doctor's examination and the nurse re-bandaging his head and eye.

When they're done, Jason goes to the pharmacy to pick up Tim's prescriptions and hits the highway all over again.

Tagging: @wickedsmille @twopercentboy @vellaphoria @green4allseasons @deepintotheabyss @crownofstardustandbone @tictac-ghost @ragnarokhound @melodyatlas

feel free to do this even if I haven't tagged you. u can even @ me if you want an excuse pft

[fkinkindagauche]

II Most Wanted - Chapter 1

Hi hello! It's finally here, the murder siblings fic I have been working on for the last month! It's complete, 7 chapters total, but I'll be posting chapter-by-chapter weekly on Wednesdays. First chapter is up on AO3.

divider by @/saradika-graphics

Rating: Mature (for graphic depictions of violence)

WC: Total is 38K, chapter 1 is 5K

Pairings: Platonic Stobin, Romantic Steddie, Romantic Ronance

Tags: Eddie Munson Lives, Attempted Murder, Completed Murder, Blood and Violence, Dismemberment, Slow Burn Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Fast Burn Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, First Kiss, Partners in Crime, Disabled Eddie Munson, Blackmail, Recreational Drug Use, Police Being Useless, Mentions of Prostitution, Gun Violence, Everyone Is Gay, Homoerotic Physical Therapy, Hospitals, Major Character Injury, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except Jason Carver

Summary:

Months after the defeat of Vecna, a still very much alive Eddie Munson is being targeted by Jason Carver. After a big scare, Robin and Steve decide they need to take things into their own hands. Hijinks of a criminal variety ensue.

Author's Notes:

This would not have been even remotely possible without my fantastic beta, @dame-zoom-a-lot. I started a much less unhinged version, and then I hated it so I gave it up. But then she encouraged me to kick the Hays code in my brain to the curb, and helped me brainstorm the current version, which I love. And then they were such a fantastic beta on top of all that! Please check out the Harringrove fic he's currently posting, Batteries Not Included, for body horror, a fascinating magical world, and enemies to lovers. Or if Steddie is more your flavor, check out its fantastic monster!Eddie fic Claw My Heart and Hope to Live.

A quick note on Robin's characterization - I pulled pretty heavily from Season 3 Robin, who is almost a different character from Season 4 Robin. So if she seems OOC, please hearken back to Season 3 and re-evaluate before yelling at me. This fic is a Platonic Stobin fic at its core, but there is also romantic Steddie and romantic Ronance. No sexual content in this main fic, though; the Mature rating is for violence. I will be adding two PWP epilogues (one for each romantic pairing) as separate works in this series eventually, but they won't contain any of the actual plot of the story, they're just lil fun bonuses for the pervs among us.

I'm also using this as a fill for my "Robin Buckley" prompt of my @steddiebingo Round 1 card.

Snippet below, full chapter on AO3.

"Robin, what are you doing?" Steve whisper-yelled into the darkness. "I need you to actually hold him up! Or there's gonna be a trail straight from the road to wherever we bury him."

"He's fucking heavy!" she whispered back as she completely dropped her hold on the bottom half of Jason Carver. "Not all of us lift weights."

He wasn't sure why they were whispering. They were in the woods in the middle of nowhere. But they were also carrying a plastic-wrapped headless and handless naked dead body between them, so an abundance of caution was warranted.

"We're on a schedule, Robs," Steve reminded her. "We've gotta get this done before your mom comes to pick you up from my place, or there goes our alibi."

Robin sighed, glaring at Steve, but leaned forward and picked the legs back up again. "We should have just burnt the whole body," she muttered. "Or done the lye thing."

Steve rolled his eyes. Robin had been the one who finally settled on burning the parts that would allow for identification and burying the rest of the body. She'd thought it was the perfect idea until they'd reached the manual labor part of things.

"It's not much further," Steve assured her. They were in a secluded part of the woods on the outskirts of Hawkins. Steve had come the day before to dig the grave, given the time constraints of maintaining their alibi. It had been a risk, but one they had to take if their plan was going to work.

Robin was puffing and sighing, barely maintaining her hold on Jason's legs, by the time they made it to the grave.

"You should just be grateful I didn't make you help with that," Steve said, nodding toward the grave. It had taken six hours of back-breaking labor to get that done. He wasn't sure he was ever going to stop being sore.

They tossed Jason's body into the grave. Robin bent over to catch her breath, hands on her knees.

"So grateful, dingus," Robin said with exaggerated sweetness. "You will forever have my gratitude. It's a beautiful grave you dug."

"Thank you," Steve replied, purposefully taking her compliment at face value and ignoring the sarcasm. He unstrapped one of the shovels from his back and threw it at her. "Now start shoveling dirt."

She looked at the shovel with a grimace, but joined Steve at the large dirt pile beside the grave. Jason's body was covered after just a few minutes, and the whole process only took about half an hour. Steve spread the remaining dirt into the surrounding forest, so they wouldn't leave a pile, then scattered leaves and other forest refuse over the disturbed earth.

As long as the rest of their plan went off without a hitch, no one would be looking for Jason here.

They walked back to where Steve's car was parked, hidden from the road behind a few trees. Steve pulled a garbage bag from the trunk. They both stripped off all of their clothes and stuffed them in the bag. They changed into the spares clothes they'd put in the back seat.

"Alright?" Steve asked, checking in with Robin.

She nodded. "Good. Phase two complete. Let's roll."

They got back to Steve's house half an hour before her mom was supposed to pick her up, giving Robin time to thoroughly wash the dirt off of her hands. Steve would be responsible for getting the bone fragments and teeth out of the yard waste incinerator and disposing of them.

"Do you think it's gonna work?" Steve asked, fidgeting nervously as they waited for Robin's mom.

"It's definitely going to work," Robin reassured him. "We got rid of that little shit. Eddie's safe now. And nobody will be able to trace it back to us."

Steve nodded, heartened by her confidence. He hadn't expected murder to be in his future, but he was glad that if he had to do it at all, he was at least doing it with Robin.

Continue on AO3.

[starrycassi]

Okay, I'm actually obsessed with your 'jayvik works for silko au'. I like that Viktor is the face of their work, the confident one that everyone knows (and fears, as they should). Also, I imagine Jayce like he looked in THAT council room scene in e8s2 (he looks SO hot in those dark clothes and the beard, damn (and I'm ace so that's saying something, lol)). Just slightly longer hair maybe.

I think Jayce would be in denial for a few years about the true situation he's in, regarding not just Viktor and their power dynamics, but their work and Silko and the situation in Zaun in general. But then he would have a epiphany about it and then slowly realizes stuff and accepts it surprising well. By the end of the time skip he's completely on board with what he's doing (though in the same way Viktor is, and the two conspire together).

You said we can ask for more of the au so, if I may maybe request a tender moment between the two? Like their love confession or them getting together. Just Viktor being vournelable with Jayce and it's the firs time ever he is with someone since like really early childhood. And he's freaking out internally about it but just wants to so badly.

Or the scene where Vi and Cait meet them (mainly Jayce) post timeskip (does it happen the same time Vi and Jinx meet for the fist time? Or is it different). I just kind of want to see Caits reaction to Jayce being alive and the whole, he's working for the kingpin, making weapons and is married to an infamous henchman/silkos inventor/the Herald/whatever Viktor is. I think it would be hilarious.

What's your Ao3? Would you consider posting this au there?

First of: I'm SO glad people like this au because it's been on my mind ever since the show barely came out!! This + crow queen + the meadow au are the very first ones I developed for Arcane and I've been slowly going insane over them. Hehehe. I do have to preface this by saying: when originally created, it was done with *League* lore in mind. I've had to tweak and adjust things for them to make sense with some of the newer backstory + revelations. Which is one of the main reasons as to why I've only posted it as ideas/snippets. I don't even want to get into the logistics of how Piltover would evolve without the hexgates (since their creators are buried deep in the underground and refuse to work with anyone in the council) or what the presence of not only one, but now *two* apparent heirs for Silco could entail. It's a very nice idea that I love, but it's nowhere near as fleshed out as it needs to be for me to write a fic :((

One of the main reasons I enjoy it is the subversion of their power dynamic! In this one, is Viktor who has to step out and defend Jayce when needed (there's actually a scene very similar to the last EP of S1, where Viktor has to cement Jayce's standing as his *partner* (meaning, equal, so please stop trying to kill him or undermining him) in front of Zaun's chembarons. Though Jayce eventually ends up earning his own name and reputation! I've actually got a small scene for that in the works, but basically people's perspective of him goes: that's herald's new boytoy (is he going to last?) > that's herald's new lap dog (is he trying to steal sevika's spot?) > He is to Viktor what Sevika is to Silco + they fuck > that's herald's new apprentice (is he good enough for the title) to, finally > He Defender (or smth idk not quite sure of his Zaun Tittle yet), Herald's partner, Jinx's second favorite. Jayce has to fight tooth and nail for his spot at Silco's chain of command, but once he has it no one dares question him. People fear provoking them both because of The Herald's vindictive vein as much as they are terrified of The Defender's (I'm between that and warden really) senseless rage. However, Zaunites do start going to Jayce for help, since he is the kinder and more approachable out of the bunch. Silco lets Jayce run around fixing houses and "playing hero" because it's actually gaining them a lot of sympathy and making more people slowly rally behind his ideals.

I've also given silco a bit more of a political incline. There is a draft of Jayce and Viktor convincing Silco to start a small public school, but it's still a "maybe", since there's the whole child labor aspect and allat.

And, yeah. Jayce is completely in denial for almost a year. He's lost everything he's ever known, was faced with the crude reality that piltover will, can and has turned its back against one of their own. He's bitter and humiliated, after all, Jayce does have a bit of an ego in the og show and everything that transcends here hurts him. Also, Viktor and Silco are both spewing shit about Piltover in his ear every single day (not without reason lol). But you are generally right with that analysis!! When he does have the final breakdown, he bounces back fast as hell. He becomes really codependent with Viktor and Jinx in those times, then gets better and better at accepting the cards he's been dealt.

I'm still debating about the plot point of Viktor and Jayce conspiring to take over Silco's place and *actually* do something for Zaun. In this au we would have: them trying to win over Sevika, secretive plotting, them do their best to properly mold Jinx so she will eventually rebel (or, in case Silco is taken out by that point, she can step in and allow them a place at her side)

Also I'm SO glad S2 gave me a proper image for visualizing Zaunite Jayce. I was screaming at my computer when I realized that all my dreams had been answered. I'm debating giving him streaks of color or something. Idk yet.

I WILL write that as soon as I'm out of finals lol. I also have one of Viktor's efforts to convince everyone of Jayce being treated as his equal and the way they meet. It's all a bit convoluted.

Some things I'm not quite if I should change yet;

Originally, Singed cut off Viktor's leg and gave him a prosthetic, framing this as "getting rid of the bad parts". This would eventually evolve into the whole cyborg-viktor we see in the games. There was also a very homoerotic situation where he got Jayce to cut off his hand when the wrist stopped answering properly. Idk sorry I've a lot of weird kinks in store for them.

This also meant Viktor giving Jayce modifications. One thing that im definitely keeping is that he gives Jayce sharper canines + possibly adds a "venom" mechanism so he can better defend himself. They experiment on each other as a way to show love okay. Also Jayce gets a piercing. Idk where how or why but I need this man pierced. Maybe him and Viktor get matching ones like Alternate Ekko and Alternate Powder. Gold and Silver little bands. Why not.

There was a whole thing about Viktor just kinda going ham and trying to add body mods to their already shimmered soldiers.

Et cetera

Edit: I want to clarify that I understand that sevika is loyal to ideas, not people. She is loyal to Silco because he is the best bet they have at the moment, and then to Jinx for the same reason (yes she definitely cares for jinx but u get the idea). Still, they would have to work REALLY hard to convince this woman to put her life on the line to betray the biggest mob boss around. She does stand by them and their ideas a lot of times, wanting Zaun's betterment as much as they do.

[the-remainder]

Hello fellow dunnish, Ze here. I've changed the "title" of our devlogs yet again. I suppose that's a form of development, that things have changed, for better or worse. I've taken to call it "tangents", because that seems to be what I write in these things: A few factoids that probably doesn't mean a whole lot to anyone, and a bunch of anecdotes and off-the-cuff remarks that don't necessarily mean more, but at least one of us have fun with!(That's me, btw)

1. Kickstarter progress I spent most of my days packing prints and Nim spent most of theirs cutting them while listening to creepy stories about national parks. Did you know there are supposed to be staircases that go nowhere out in the wilderness? Foodprints that aren't identifiable? Things that scratch at the side of your tent, whispers to you in the voice of your loved one whom you know is miles and miles away from where you are? Yeah, national parks are basically the twilight zone, according to podcasts. Becareful out there, nature-loving friend.

2. Writing Nim wrote and published their first novella! It's a weird mix of romance, horror and erotica. You ever wonder what would happen if you were acosted by a fae in the woods, then decided to follow them and have a wild shag or two? Nothing we can call "good", I assure you. But then again, who wants good? We want interesting. And that's what Many Winters' Briar gets you, an interesting encounter with a fae in the woods. It's completely unlike the Remainder, no one lost their memories, no high magick and tall towers. No world-ending rituals or magick talking cats. Just a cozy time with someone not quite human in a hut who likes berries and pain.

3. The Longing All we did for the longing recently was I THOUGHT about working on it, or rather I felt the urge to work on it squirm quietly in my marrows. That's typical of my process with these things. First the urge squirms in the marrows, then it migrates into the hemoglobin and courses through my veins, then some energetic buildup occurs in the fibres and tissue, then at last the fingers gnarl and twitch and work appears. Yesterday I actually opened up the draft and LOOKED at it. I expect any day now I will be swimming in The Longing again. Watch out for updates; watch along the shoreline for my drenched and cackling form.

4. Agnil's Design I began editing a short story I wrote for Ilar's Teatime stories ages ago, which was a tiny little thing about a magus college student sort of person who had some friction with her mother regarding personal hygiene. Whole thing was about 1 chapter-long if it were a book, and featured 1 character. I know, it sounds incredibly germain, but it's what occurred to me at the time. As I rewrote it, I kept feeling the story was supposed to be about more, and so I nudged it into a slightly different direction just to see what happens. A week later I'm four chapters into what I can only imagine would have to be a novel. Ilar, Vyn, and a few other semi-fleshed out characters were already aching to make appearances. And the threads of the Taldun lore came flowing in from all corners of the realm, and it keeps building. I still have no idea where it goes yet, but sink me it is fun to write. I expect I'll be teasing some of it on our socials soon. It's called Agnil's Design.

5. Other games I also started building another game, just for me, just for fun. It's going to be a rogue-like deck-builder, or as I call it, "body"-builder, where you do some dungeon crawling and collect the body-parts of defeated foe to build your character. I'm making it for no other reason than that I desperately want to play this game and it doesn't exist.

6. Social We are going to dole out bits and pieces of lore, character snippets, new-and-old art, and other enticing stuff over here in the coming weeks. Kindly glue your eyeballs to the bluesky, please. PLEASE, we need the numbers. XD https://bsky.app/profile/the-nim.bsky.social

There, that was less tangential than it could've been, but more tangential than most, I imagine. Big success?

Oh right, if you want to see these images in high res, and a few more sketches, as well as a sample paragraph from Many Winters' Briar and Agnil's Design, head on over to our ko-fi and patreon members section. Your support will help enable us to persevere in our wickedness. You have our infernal gratitude.

[skellymom]

"AMBER EYES" CHAPTER 2

Bad Batch TECH Fan Ficlet x NON-GENDERED READER

A story of HOPE for Tech Fan's: Resident of Pabu unlocks a secret even THEY weren't aware they had access to!

Word Count: 800

Rated: SAFE for EVERYONE! ENJOY!!!

The stars whiz by the windscreen as I lay on the bunk in the dimly lit ship.  Echo is at the helm.  He brought transport since the Marauder was destroyed. 

I’m exhausted. 

It’s been months since my FIRST contact with Tech.  Since then, I’ve only gotten snippets of sensory information: by sight, sound, feel.  I can still feel him breathing...it’s been the only constant since that day on Pabu.  Like we’re sharing the same breath.  

The goggles are no longer needed for me to reach out to Tech.  Omega still brought them along “just in case”.  There are times I can concentrate while awake to experience what he is experiencing.  But most times it happens during the night, when sleep pulls my guard down. 

And, because of that I don’t sleep for very long. 

Crosshair says I talk in my sleep...and it sounds JUST LIKE his brother.  He’s tried to elicit a conversation, but without me being conscious it goes nowhere. 

“Found some muscle relaxers.  That should help you sleep.”  Hunter kneels with a canteen, dropping two tablets into my hand. 

“Thanks” Swallowing the meds. 

“Here” He also hands me a ration bar “They’ll tear up your stomach if you don’t eat.” 

“You’re such a DAD” I kid. 

“You’re a part of this family, too” Hunter smiles and it reaches his eyes.  I can also see a bit of concern in them.  “Of course we’ll take care of you.” 

He pats my shoulder, stepping away as Wrecker approaches. 

“Ya ready?” Cracks the knuckles of his large hands. 

I nod as he sits behind me on the bunk and CAREFULLY massages my head, temple, ears.  The man has hands that could EASILY crush my skull... 

...but his fingers are so gentle.  He eases away the tension as I chew on the ration bar. 

Soon the meds, food, and Wrecker’s massage take effect.  I’m feeling extremely comfortable.  There’s a conversation going on between Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair...I’m catching small snippets... 

“Concerned about ______.  Too much for one person to bear.”  Hunter empathizes with my plight.  He UNDERSTANDS all too well. 

Echo’s voice chimes in “Yeah, all the leads just wind up being dead ends.  Not sure how much longer we...THEY can keep going...” 

Crosshair grits his teeth and worriedly runs his hand over his stubbly head.  His silver hair growing back.  He feels IMMENSE guilt.  Both he and Wrecker have already openly argued about the mission that took Tech’s life... 

They almost came to blows.  It made Omega cry. 

Hunter and Echo broke it up, putting them both in temporary “Time Out.” 

They eventually made up...well Wrecker did.  Crosshair just stared at the floor like a whipped dog. 

Crosshair says something...but it’s lost as I fall asleep with Wrecker’s hands in my hair... 

The warmth and comfort immediately torn away from me... 

I...WE are laying in the cold wet mud...of SOME world...rain coming down in sheets. 

There’s a body next to...us... 

A dead rebel soldier.  His eyes are wide open, glazed over...mud and rain splattered upon his body where he fell... 

We...Tech...is CRAWLING through the mud.  Attempting to escape?  I can FEEL his respiratory effort as he DRAGS himself through the wet mess.  He manages to pull himself with his arms several feet before falling back into the mud...utterly exhausted... 

The hard patter of rain upon his body.  He’s shivering.  His body temperature is dropping...he’s becoming TIRED, struggling to keep both eyes open...only a matter of time before hypothermia sets in... 

Please...don’t LEAVE me... 

He’s addressing...ME!  I can FEEL it!!! 

I’m SHOCKED.  This is the FIRST time he’s spoken to me... 

Yes...I KNOW you’re there.  He answers breathlessly.  Took me some time to ascertain...you are using Remote Viewing... 

I push to find my voice... 

WE ARE COMING FOR YOU!  I blurt out Hunter, Crosshair, Echo, Wrecker, and Omega are with me!  We... 

Tell them to abort their mission! Tech cuts me off. 

NO!  Where ARE YOU??? 

The Empire WILL find you all.  It is NOT safe...  He sighs HEAVILY I wish to see them all again...but NOW is not the time... 

...and...I...am not the man I once was... 

A ship lands several meters away.  Its crew jumps down into the mire, slogging towards...Tech...US.  He is grabbed up by several hands and hauled to the ship...into it...the crew starts basic first aid... 

Thank you for keeping me awake...and ALIVE...if not for YOU, I would have expired.  PLEASE, keep my brothers and sister safe... 

And with that, Tech CUTS contact with me... 

...I SLINGSHOT VIOLENTLY back to Echo’s ship! 

I BOLT upright in the bunk.  Wrecker has a mild heart attack with the suddenness of my action. 

I’m SCREAMING something over and over... 

Tech thought he could prevent me from finding him... 

But I managed to catch a glimpse with HIS OWN EYES...the ship’s hull... 

“DELIVERANCE!  TRANSPONDER CODE 00155268!!!” 

EVERYONE is running towards me... 

“DELIVERANCE!  TRANSPONDER CODE 00155268!!!” 

I can only stare DIRECTLY into Echo’s eyes... 

“DELIVERANCE!  TRANSPONDER CODE 00155268!!!” 

They widen.  He SMILES.  Immediately Echo sets to work with his ship’s computer... 

CHAPTER 3 TO BE POSTED SHORTLY!

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[everlastingday]

the last few days have been a bit hectic so i haven't written much, but here's another small snippet from the holiday au! thank you @carlossreaders, @heartstringsduet,

@lemonlyman-dotcom, @henrygrass, @nisbanisba, and @carlos-in-glasses for the tags!! 💜

--

It doesn’t take them long to tuck Jonah into bed, leaving him with Enzo’s housekeeper for the night. Evidently, the man himself remains a mystery, and is nowhere to be found. Carlos elicits a curious look from the housekeeper, but if she has any thoughts about her employer’s toddler hanging out with a new face, she keeps them to herself.

TK seems to exhale in relief as soon as they leave the double doors of Enzo’s building. He spins around to face Carlos, and asks, “Are you ready for the best walking tour of your life?”

He’s beaming, and Carlos feels his chest tighten, pleased to see TK smiling so brightly. “And if isn’t?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. “Do I get a refund?”

“Nope,” TK laughs. “Take it or leave it.”

“I guess I’ll take it, then,” Carlos relents, and goes after TK who’s already crossing the road towards Central Park.

--

just an open tag today because it is so late!! 💜

[maxslickfunyfics]

Alright I can't talk all that game and have nothing to show for it

So I'm posting a snippet of my macromarch project for the lovely Sayian simps and spicy Giant/tiny enjoyers! I'm still in edits so it'lll be at least another week or so IDK let's just get to the big monkey sex with Videl and Gohan, huh? This is a half assed AU where Capsule Corp becomes a space marine operation and it goes without saying NSFW

Videl did her best to scrape the substance off. A shower of feathers danced against her skin when the beast huffed its hot breath at her again, pulling her attention back to it. The creature stuck his tongue out at her from the tip of its snout and snickered keenly. He then lifted the curtain of his jowls, flashing his teeth in a gesture he remembered signified fun and safety. 

Videl however only saw her own reflection in the oversized ivory fangs. Once again grave fear gripped the capitan’s fevered mine but it had a hard time keeping a hold over her. The haze of pheromones in the air and seeping into her pores was rendering her incapable of staying afraid. 

“Listen, that's a nice set of chompers you've got. Just please don't use them on me!” she bargained.

He couldn't understand her words, but a meaning was recognized. He brought his jowls back down over his teeth. Then watched as she relaxed a bit more in his company. 

The oozaru could see now, the path forward to successful mating would depend upon how delicately he could approach this suitor. She was small, but what could be expected from the beetles that worshiped him? Their stature was even more diminutive than hers. But her beauty, the gentle softness of her skin, that raven dark hair, and those twinkling starlight eyes. While not an oozaru of equal standing, what was before him was a treasured offering all the same.

It continued to hold Videl in its scarlet gaze, though she'd taken his eyes off him for the moment. Desperately, she was attempting to scrub the amber from her legs, which had dried to the consistency of molasses. Only with frantic friction did a couple droplets of the mysterious substance fall away to the cave floor. 

“What is this stuff?” She sighed breathlessly. Sweat had formed at Videl's brow for all her efforts but she was no closer to removing the glassy gunk. She pulled her hands away from her thighs, met with notable resistance as the ooze on her palms and legs had begun to mix. Two long strands of amber extended from her fingertips before snapping at their center, retracting quickly, hugging close to her form. 

“Ew.” Videl groaned, shivering. The oozaru watched closely mesmerized. Its primal mind wondered if this was a display or mating dance from wherever the little one was from. Something told him it was not, but still her legs bewitched him.

They were long and toned at the calf, broadening to brawnier thighs covered in healed scars. The shiny amber encasing them only highlighted their shape. Carefully, the giant simian dared a hand towards one of her legs. 

Videl could only watch with a mounting anticipation when the giant fuzzy hand came back for her, much slower this time. Instinctively even with nowhere to go, she flinched away from his touch. The rough fingertips grazed the sole of one foot.

“Hey. Uh, big guy, what are you doing?” Videl asked breathlessly. It pinched and lifted the limb with an incredible precision and force. The sensation was amplified and distorted by the amber. Her whole body was filled with heat, trapped under her sticky skin. Warm blood rushed under her cheek and collarbone.

It was strange, but the way this monster looked at her, Videl doubted she'd suffer the same fate as the bugs sacrificed alongside her. The beast’s huge face was a mask of horror; thick light fuzz outlining his muzzle, eyes and ears sunken into folded leather skin, plush black fur covering its cheeks and all around its head. Yet something in the creature’s expression clawed at her chest, making her heart pounding frantically.

Currently the behemoth's eyes were transfixed on a bruise on the ankle he held in his hand. It was fading, soon to join the endless constellations of marks that dotted the warrior’s skin. A memory flashed through the monster's mind of when the wound was much fresher. 

The little dark haired one was resting in an overturned nest of greenery, wincing from a hard fall during a hike. He was crouched just over her, and for some reason, she didn't seem nearly as small.

“Ah! That looks bad. Let me get my first aid capsule.” said a voice. His voice. He could remember his hands went to work dressing the wound, keeping it elevated on his lap, cleaning it with an antiseptic, and gently massaging it to check for broken bones.

“Ouch! It's still tender, you know!” she snapped at him angrily. She was so close here, eyes so blue. Her rage and its ramifications more tangible the longer he stared. 

“Right! Sorry, but luckily it doesn't feel sprained. Let me get a stint on it and we'll call it for now. Get you back to a healing pod on base. You'll have to keep weight off of it till then.” 

“Thanks for the check up, Professor.” she chided with a smirk, “But hobbling one legged back to the ship will take till sundown, even using you as a brace.” 

“Oh. I was just going to carry you there…” he blinked simply. 

The memory faded from the beast's mind, with the girl pressed snuggly against his chest as they walked through the dimming forest. What didn't fade was that soft scent radiating from her skin. Salty and sweet with a woody spice, that very smell had haunted the great oozaru those past lonely weeks of being worshiped out in the woods. It was nothing like the more pheromone laden fruity scent those beetles excreted at him all the time and its depth and weight persisted above the concentrated version of the secretions that coated her now. He was beginning to understand, the offering before him wasn't just the beetles haphazard attempt to subdue the thronging of his loins. She was a carefully planned summoning of a dearly departed mate he'd nearly let slip his memory. Their meeting here tonight was destined as was their joining. Between his own fuzzy thighs his resolve hardened.

Seeing the wound again, the oozaru could not fight back the instinct he so easily repressed that day. He brought the ankle to his fury lips and began licking it in a show of comfort. Repeatedly he drug the tip of his tongue up and down the area. He felt her tiny muscles tense and then melt at his care. 

“Uhnggg!” Videl moaned softly. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead and neck, surrendering to a sudden, frightening ecstasy. 

Even through the amber the beast could feel the receding bump from the bruise. The substance tasted as sweet as it smelled and relented slightly to his monstrous saliva, sending tiny flecks of it down his throat.

“Damn it…” she hissed through gritted teeth,”Why is this… I’m… am I horny??” Videl's head fought for air in a torrent of confusing emotions and impulses. Fear prickled under her skin that the sticky amber may have heightened some senses and dulled some others.  

The general CC corps policy on intercourse with alien lifeforms while on the clock was one two-word phrase: Don’t. Please. However, beyond that restriction, Videl couldn't shake the idea that sex with a several story monkey could end in several lasting physical and mental traumas. This all built upon the fact that this thing may have murdered the first guy Videl considered banging in some strange space cave. 

Her head rolled to one side of the cool stone wall she’d firmly burrowed into, then the other. She looked down at the monster’s face caressing her calf, then up to the rest behind. There was so much of him to see; bulging muscles, rippling back, notably taught round ass. A grotesque buffet of oversized anatomy, spawned from some dark corner of the universe, and she had it all to herself. 

The giant monster’s eyes were back on her. He gave a gentle chirping to get her attention. He didn't want to scare her for what he wanted to do next. Those blue eyes called him closer. The oozaru pressed his snout and lips to her collarbone. Even the slightest nibble could be fatal at this positioning, so he opted instead to graze his gritted fangs against that soft skin. 

“Aaah!” She shrieked with pleasure. Videl seized what she could of the creature’s face in her arms. That luscious fur that greeted her, despite it all it was cool to the touch and so incredibly entangling. Even the scent, the distinct extraterrestrial astringent smell of the jungle trees along with that sweet orange mist of the beatles and at the end a few scents Videl recognized but was not in the presence of mind to place. The last bit of her reason died suffocating under the amber. 

“Ooooh Kami! Y-you’re just too much…” she panted into the furry face. Every noise she made in his favor urged the titanic primate onward in his courtship. The oozaru’s penis rose steadily, chafing against the cave floor. His longing, already demanding, rose in pitch and fervor. Tonight, it screamed, right now, in this cave. You cannot proceed alone. You face despair if this fails. 

You. Need. Her. 

 The gargantuan hand that so carefully held her calf sat it back down, and crept only a bit further to where the skin of her belly met the elastic of her underwear. Videl's stomach quivered from the texture of his touch. It excited him to a point beyond restraint, feeling her shivering against his nail. With a reflex, he flicked her panties into the damp air of the cavern. They floated briefly, then collected on the ground, a pile of silken rags. The beast froze, looking at the destruction left in his impulsive wake. Several things rolled around in the dark corners of his mind; some angry, some afraid, all moving double time to the throbbing from below.  Videl, however, welcomed the rush of cool air against her heated nether regions, though the creature's sudden pause made her pull away.  He blinked at her slowly, stiffly, unsure how to go on. 

“That was bound to happen…” she breathed, rubbing the monster’s snout. There was something about the dopey expressions that gave the beast a comforting charm. She pulled her hands away reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra.

“In the interest of keeping some underwear intact, I'll help out with this one.”

With a wink and a bend, Videl undid the last hook, unwrapping the bra from her ribs and chest. Then she slid off the straps; one off each arm. When the cups of brazier fell away, Videl's breasts dropped, unrestrained, back down to her rib cage. Her brown nipples, however, stood proud in the night breeze. No barriers remained between her and him now. Despite all the urges, the deep yearning to devour her then and there, the creature couldn't help but stop and stare. Those soft thighs surrounded a tuft of dark hair that crowned her vagina. Shapely hips drew his eyes back up her torso, past her belly and up to those freed melons that sat so proud. The scent from her dripping tickled inside his cavernous nostrils. The tip of his tail flickered wildy, a dark flame of passion. Videl reclined herself back against the rock wall, placing an arm behind her head for comfort and safety- well, as much safety as she could reasonably manage while having sex with a giant space monkey in a cave. Luckily the giant space monkey was on the same page, and took the liberty of scooping her back into his cupped palms.  

There was that fuzzy feeling against her shellacked skin again, now accompanied by the new sensation of the monster’s padded palms gently creasing around her. They formed a warm waterbed wrapped in a fine furred duvet: all king-sized. She rubbed her fingers against the new textures with glee, sinking deeper into the warmth with every movement. The monster saw opportunity in this writhing. He moved his face close to her body once more, parking his great nose at her navel. Now Videl froze, trapped in those ruby eyes once again. This time, the beast leaned close enough she could even see their prisoner within the strata of rods and cones. Past that warbled reflection of her rapture, she could see the creature’s pupils, round and softened, focused all on her. It melted Videl in a familiar way. Before she could dare a deeper thought about it, the monster blasted it from her mind with a wave of hot sticky breath on her thighs. 

He rumbled, something between a purr and a growl as his lips parted. Gazing upon the woman was only half the plan. From here, it was a simple journey for his tongue down to her sweet garden. Videl was helpless to watch the pleasure dance across her own face as the monster tasted her, sliding a large and impossibly dexterous tongue down and between her thighs. 

“Oh Kami!” Videl yelped when the slick appendage reached its target. It lapped up her warmth, each stroke bursting with an energy that surged up her spine and through her body. She grasped at the familiar fur around her, desperate to ground herself anyway she could as torrential ecstasy threatened to atomize her down to the last molecule. Her torso arched violently away from the monster’s paw pads only to crash right back down into the plush, warm leather. Her high pitched squeaks and groans bounced against the cave walls, doubling and tripling into a cacophony of ecstasy. 

[taintedsoul-if]

I'm glad you're writing more IFs that you enjoy. It's much better to write something when you actually enjoy what you're writing than, when you don't. And I really like the way you write 🥹💓

(and also because I'm a little suspicious to speak, since my favorite genre is romance and fantasy Imao)

I just want to know how the updates will work. Tainted Soul will still be the main IF right? And will DG be something more sporadic? I'm very interested in both, but Tainted is more important to me, since any crumb of Cadmus, I'll be accepting.

I hope this doesn't come across as some kind of charge, as that's not my intention. In fact, one of the things that makes me happiest is that you are very active both in writing IF and in answering any questions people have about the lore. Which is one of the things that usually frustrates me about some IF writers. So when you post chapter snippets and progress updates, I'm very grateful. Since, you know, I don't have to worry about whether IF was abandoned or something like that.

So yes, any IF you write, I will be reading 💃✨

(And I don't know if you remember, but previously I said that I would draw Cadmus and my MC. I'm still going to do it and send it to you!)

Taking a step away from the writing scene these past few years wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s not that we fall out of love with the stories we’re telling—it’s just that we need a change of pace. And that’s exactly what I needed. I’m glad my writing has improved to the point where readers can follow along more easily now. I still have a long way to go, though—lol.

Tainted Souls will always be at the forefront for me, but working on Dangerous Games has opened up a new horizon in how I approach writing TS. I even figured out a major plot point recently! And honestly, it was thanks to DG that I was able to break through a standstill in Chapter 3 of TS—I’d been stuck after T chased the MC outside and Yesenia interrupted them, unsure of how to proceed. Now, that chapter’s sitting at 8,000 words.

Surprisingly, I’ve made steady progress on both IFs. I completed the prologue for DG in just two days, along with setting up my ChoiceScript and startup file. Then out of nowhere, my mind kept nudging me to revisit Chapter 2—I ended up adding new scenes and dialogue that really brought it to life.

Lately, I’ve been writing from 6 AM to 6 PM, splitting my time evenly between both projects.

Anyway, I’m rambling now 😵‍💫.

Tainted Souls will always be my main IF—this story is my first love. I’m even a little reluctant to write certain scenes because once I do, it means we’re moving closer to the end… and that’s such a bittersweet feeling.

Dangerous Games will be more sporadic in terms of updates, while with Tainted Souls, I’m aiming—if all goes well—to update the public demo every eight weeks. If everything stays on track, we might even have an update ready by midmonth. I’ve also been toying with the idea of releasing the prologue for DS alongside that demo, but I haven’t fully decided yet 🥱.

As for spoilers—oh, love, you don’t even know the half of it. Any spoiler I share is just the icing on a very layered cake. For every one I drop, there are twists and turns you’d never expect… unless you’re breaking into my house and flipping through my notes while I sleep. Please don’t do that—I’m timid by nature.

But seriously, I love feeding my readers lore. Vathilia is such a beautiful, complex world, and the relationships—bittersweet, angsty, heart-wrenching—make it even richer. I’ll always share what I can… the only time I hold back is when the question asked feels like stepping on a minefield of spoilers that’ll explode into even more spoiler-heavy questions.

I’ll never abandon this IF, not even if it takes me a thousand years to finish. Tainted Souls means that much to me.

Today’s fully dedicated to TS. I just finished writing the original host’s backstory for Dangerous Games, and my brain is officially fried—so it’s back to my first love for the rest of the day.

Also, I’m really looking forward to that chibi drawing of yours! I’ll proudly add it to a master list I’m planning to create in the future. Even though I babbled a lot, don’t hold it against me 🥲. Thank you for the ask, anon.

I’ll be off now.

[cannibal-nightmares]

Seven

"Sounds like you were having a day. That's what my mom used to call it when she got her wires crossed."

Spirit hosts his home for a weekly weekend dinner between just he and Stein.

Wrote this to process some things over a couple of months, and, much to my surprise, it helped a lot. I didn't originally intend for it to see the light of day, but I ended up enjoying the ending. please dont whack me lol aaaaa

Soul Eater - Stein x Spirit (ship is up to interpretation, SFW) // OOC Stein, domestic fluff, caregiver-esque Spirit but not really, non-verbal stein, agereg!stein?, hurt/comfort, this piece goes nowhere Word count - 2,018 -- [AO3 link]

Sometimes he got like this, uncharacteristically unresponsive, even when it was in his character to be unresponsive. There was a heaviness to his slow breath and a glaze in his eye that left more to be remarked, unfocused on settling dust particles in a dimming sunbeam.

That afternoon, he was slow to pack up his things from the infirmary and the lecture hall. Spirit had waited outside on the massive steps, as he so often did, noting how much time had passed with the slight inclination for a second cigarette, the first one lit after he realized the misstep in timing as it was.

A hup, standing up and turning to step back inside to check on his meister, and, finally, the professor met the evening sun with a distant gaze.

"What took you so long?" Albarn jested.

Stein almost didn't answer. "'Just lost track of time. You could have gone home without me, you know."

Spirit chuffed, but his light-hearted expression tugged to shift as Stein's tone painted the air.

"Nonsense, silly. When else would I get to yammer to you about work?"

Franken exhaled shortly with a forced polite twinge to his brow and waved them both along down the stairs. It was fast-obvious each and every step felt like a free-fall.

They carried on in silence.

The two took turns hosting their homes on Friday nights for shared dinners, recuperation, and wherever else the evenings would take them. Over the year they had been doing this, they found their belongings spread out between each other’s apartments: It was disorganized, but Stein was good at keeping track of things like insects in a web by snippets of pictures and content within his memory.

“Hey, Stein?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s your turn this week.”

The professor looked up from his thoughts, realizing he took them paces in the other direction towards Spirit’s place.

“Oh, I guess that’s right.” He took pause, unsure of how to apply grace in correcting the mistake, attempting to casually redirect their path when Spirit brushed his sleeve.

“Franken,” he caught his gaze, eye contact visibly shattering his meister’s focus, searching for a more tangible tell. “Let me cook tonight.”

Something somewhere in Stein wanted to argue for the sake of consistent routine, but something else was at the forefront of his decision-making. A beat, and he nodded with an unchanged expression but a softness like that of gratitude in his eyes. He very clearly wanted to express something more verbal, though too long of a pause discredited him from an intended gesture; he closed his gape and readjusted his glasses, thereafter rubbing tired knuckles to his temple, soothing something lost.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spirit had his heels off the ground to tilt his head to his partner, a firm hand to Stein’s bicep; Albarn knew how delicate touches often did more harm than good for grounding techniques.

Acknowledgment flickered in Franken’s reflection, and he was able to re-track, rubbing the back of his neck now and meeting his weapon’s face before quickly splitting away.

“Yeah, I think I’m just… Having a day.”

Spirit squeezed his shoulder. “We don’t have to do dinner if you’re not feeling up to it—”

“No, it’s fine.” Stein cut him off insistently. “I want to.”

The whole truth of the matter was he felt safe with Spirit. He imagined he’d probably sit at his desk or go to bed if he had gone home, but a force within him did not want to be left alone. He wanted Spirit’s company as though his life depended on it.

The death scythe smiled gently. “Off we go, then.”

Paces to the east side of town painted approaching walls in golden-orange sun. The quiet neighborhood looked like a dollhouse come to life at this part of the evening, the streets about to brim with dinner plans and weekend celebrations. In their delay, they had just missed the usual ebb of rush by the time school got out. A silent cyclist passed by.

“Stein…” Spirit was hesitant to cut through the quiet. “I know you don’t like me asking, but…” He brought both of his flat and open hands out in front of himself, paralleling each other, starting apart wide and ending nearer together in the middle of his abdomen, a furrowing questioning stark to his countenance.

There was a sharp shard of annoyance in Stein’s quiet sigh that resulted, but a reasoned defensiveness in his eyes shone years worth of experience he desperately wanted to rewrite.

“You don’t have to answer. You know I only ask because I want to care for you. And I know it needs some practice from both of us.”

Stein half-glanced over to his side, and then back to Spirit. He waved his hand for his focus then nodded his fist at the wrist.

Albarn chuffed but then corrected himself. Do you know why?

The professor wanted to sigh again. Do you know why?

Spirit was only half-confident in the response. Too, he wasn’t sure what would be stepping on his partner’s toes.

I think so.

Winter has… Stein exhibited an uncertainty in his hands, signing the gesture for MIXED, then corrected himself to CONFUSION. He shook it out. “Dissonance.” His voice trailed by the third syllable, already having started small.

Spirit rubbed his meister’s back. I know.

"I'm going to lie down for a while… If you don’t mind.”

The death scythe helped the coat off his partner’s shoulders at the doorway, his limbs heavy and tired.

“Not at all. Should I start dinner and wake you when it’s done?”

He knew he wasn't going to be able to taste anything, and that eating might end up being a chore to the point of nausea, but Spirit knew--they both knew--that a meal and some rest was definitely going to help him think straight. It was obvious Stein thought to deny it, but eventually managed a lost nod.

Spirit exhaled in resolution, taking a moment to squeeze his hand.

“When did you last eat?”

Stein opened his mouth to begin speaking, but nothing came out. He blinked away a tightness in his chest and touched his thumb first to the side of his chin, then his ear.

Yesterday.

Typical he'd skip breakfast. Spirit nodded.

“Is there anything you’d prefer?” He had to admit to himself he knew the questions were making his guest tired.

The professor paused, then slipped his hand from Albarn’s grip to click at his screw, eye contact gone distant beyond them both. Spirit half-mindlessly petted the back of his knuckles to Stein’s forearm to return gentle focus. From nothing, he was clearly becoming overstimulated.

No worries. “I’ll figure something out for us, dear.”

Stein forced a readjustment to meet the side of Spirit’s neck. “Thank you, Spirit.” He flickered sincere eye contact from emerald to aquamarine, held the moment for just a beat, then slunk off to the hallway, too fuzzy and scrambled to worry if the message was received.

Spirit was no stranger to these spells, twicefold: One in seeing Stein in these states before, and another in his own first-hand experience. Well, Spirit corrected his own thoughts, he didn’t exactly understand the non-verbality and shrinking ego from a first-person perspective, but that pit of unprecedented and unanticipated emptiness was certainly no stranger. They had profound moments together that led each of them towards new coping mechanisms, unexpected craftiness in both defense and in aid like that of brugmansia bloom. Sometimes the weekend meals were bargaining, reminders to themselves that they both were human through the reflection of the other.

He knew exactly what to make for dinner.

Spirit tapped the guest bedroom door with soft knuckles, and gently peeled it away from the frame. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, he realized no one was in the neatly made bed.

“Stein?”

He stepped back out to the hall and nudged his own bedroom door that was slightly ajar, eyeing blankets mussed but still no professor to be found. The room took moonglow and the air tasted sweet with chilliness, inviting Albarn to push the door further to see the parallel sliding glass cracked open. On the balcony, his meister sat criss-cross, looking out through the wrought iron railing down to the street.

“Hey,” he made his presence known before stepping out to the cement, an immediate shiver overtaking him. He sat comfortably next to him and followed his trajectory. “What are you looking at, Franken?”

Stein had his arms folded in on themselves awkwardly, but pried one from the knot to out point to the sidewalk of the bistro adjacently below. He made loose hands that seemed to grab at themselves in the center of his body, but Spirit wasn’t able to follow.

“I’m… Sorry, Stein, I don’t know that word.” Albarn said aloud while signing along.

The professor refocused on his partner with a tiny curious twinge to his brow and gestured movements with his hands that looked similar to the last. A pause, and he clarified.

“Stories.”

He looked back out to the street and Spirit followed the trajectory. Gesturing to a man in a blue suit chatting to a woman on the curb, Stein nodded upward.

“What do you think he does?” His voice remained ever-quiet. He then signed the word for “WORK?”

“By the looks of it, maybe… A business man. He has a briefcase.”

Stein shook out his hand to hold a misplaced sigh, but consoled the impulsion by meeting his bolt. He didn’t crank it, though, fingers left in temptation. He unfolded his legs to bring knees to his chest, his raised elbow to rest propped up against them, the other arm squeezing his legs tight.

“I think he’s living a double-life. Maybe that’s his wife, maybe it’s not. Maybe he is a businessman—probably a paper-pusher--but he does something else on the side that she doesn’t know about. They’ve planned a date, but, last second, it has crossed the plans of his second employer. He has to figure out how to cut the dinner early before she realizes that’s not his normal weekday briefcase.”

Spirit went speechless and searched Stein in a received child-like wonder, the game falling into place.

“Oh, look, he did it!” Albarn chimed as the two characters parted ways from each other. Stein grinned, but felt inclined to hide it.

“What about her?” Spirit pointed to a woman at a table on the sidewalk with a relaxed hand to her jaw, looking out to the road in absent thought.

“What about her?” Stein passed the baton.

“She’s…” He hesitated, thinking. “She’s a usual at this cafe. She has the menu memorized like the back of her hand, but pretends she doesn’t think it leaves more to be desired. She fantasizes of having a restaurant of her own where everything is cat-themed and… And involves calamari somehow...”

Stein glanced to Spirit and once he finally caught a returned look, he laughed a single amused chuff, their expressions matching pink in the dark. They both shivered.

“What do you think they think we do?”

“I guess that depends how much you’re out on this balcony.”

Almost as if on cue, they made eye contact with the lady at the table who happened to look up at them.

They waved.

Dinner is ready.

Stein freed his hands from their anchors. What did you make?

Spirit’s smile was warm. Breakfast.

Something of surprise lit up in the meister’s eyes.

Do you want to eat out here or inside?

Franken wasn’t sure what to do with his hands until he decided on tugging to Spirit’s sleeve, then taking his left hand in both of his own, bringing folded knuckles to his temple, shielding his eyes momentarily with a sweet grin. Albarn confessed the regression was in a way alarming, but he felt the genuine comfort start to radiate off of Stein in their shared company. He let his hand out of his meister’s grasp to sweep through his hair and pull him into a hug.

“Let’s go inside.”

[weekly-und3rvers3]

Weekly Underverse

Hello!

In honor of Underverse 0.8 part 1 coming out and Jakei’s year and a half hiatus, I am going to (try to) do this thing I will be calling “Weekly Underverse” where I update weekly with some sort of Underverse related content.

It’s not going to be anything big. Some weeks it will be a 3,000 word Cross fic, maybe a digital drawing I worked on for 5 hours. Other weeks might be as small as a snippet of a poem that was inspired by an Underverse thing, or a little doodle I did in my notes packet. It may even be recycled content I have posted outside of this project.

But whatever it is, I will try to update it weekly until the hiatus is over.

This is because, in the announcement Jakei made on her YouTube page, she was a little worried people might forget about the series if she leaves for this long, and I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want her to worry about something like that, and just want her to get some well deserved rest during this hiatus.

And I know I’m a small creator and this will probably not be seen by a lot of the fandom, but I guess It’s a fun challenge for myself too.

By all means, if you’re a creator, whether you have a big or small platform, if English is or isn’t your first language, you’re 14 or 48 years old, anything! If you’d like to participate as well, please! Be my guest and join in!

Whether you want to send me content of your own I can credit you for, or make your own page for a weekly/daily/monthly/spontaneously Underverse, go right ahead! I don’t want to let this project or this fandom die out, I want Jakei to know we’re with her all the way, and with her however long she needs to, and we’ll be there to support her at the end of it! 

Weekly Underverse starts today, November 20, 2024. Updates will (try to) be every Wednesday. 

Underverse belongs to: Jael Peñaloza

*if anyone involved with Underverse wants me to stop and take down this project, let me know and it will be gone faster than a heartbeat

Little note: I am nowhere near an Underverse expert, so most things might be fanon, most things might be Cross focused, but maybe I’ll do some learning and write with the other characters. Maybe I’ll give fun facts one week. We’ve got about 78 chances so… we’ll see where this goes!

[c0mbatchameleon]

hi hi hiii more on Liebestraum plsss

Eugeeee hello well this is no other than the demon James possession au 🙏🙏

The post linked is from forever ago but it still has the basics. And at the risk of going on too long about how i since then fell down the literal rabbit hole that is dante's inferno, and my notes app ramblings have morphed into a 12 page, 6000+ word planning doc, I will give you a snippet. It's basically just possession sex. Which in itself is just masturbation with more steps.

I'll say one thing: the song came after I had already carved the entire story around the concept of dreams -- the only place where they can be two separate, physical beings on the same plane of existence (except for--nvm). So it was a beautiful coincidence that Liebestraum ended up translating to "love dream," which I only looked up after listening to it a million times and mapping the whole plot to it. Anyways, the dreams take place on a beach, and all u need to know is that up to this point, regulus has refused to get in the water and swim. ((18+ below))

“Please,” Regulus whines, and he’s never sounded this pathetic in his life, so out of control. James has taken reign over his body, all muscle and bone and that web of nerve endings embedded throughout, while Lust–this desperate, whirlwind need that pools deeper in him–has full reign of his mind. Or, the part of his mind that’s still his, which in itself is blurring more and more at the edges as time goes on.  The result is this. Regulus, a man of discipline, reduced to a writhing, pleading, unwound mess, hand moving over himself by some outside, untethered force, by James, who isn’t outside of him at all. Please what, love?  James’s voice is everywhere and nowhere. It’s rolling through him with the tides, filling the silence in the room, in his skull–it used to be quieter in there, didn’t it? Regulus can’t imagine it now. Doesn’t want to. He needs more. He needs– “Need you.”  A soft chuckle. I’m right here, baby. I couldn’t be any closer if I tried. Don’t you feel it? Suddenly: an increased pressure in his skull, lungs, entire body. Carrying pleasure with it, pushing up at the boundaries of him, his being, his consciousness. He doesn’t know what James is doing, but it’s something. It’s not enough.  A sharp twist of his own hand has Regulus letting out a mortifying sound. “Mmmh. Need more.”  Oh? More of me? Another sharp twist, pleasure sparking up through him, before the hand—his own hand—slows back to an infuriating, steady pace. James is loving this and Regulus knows it. Can feel it in the waves of satisfaction, of triumph rolling out from the space James occupies in his own head. Regulus might be more annoyed by the arrogance of his guest if only those emotions weren’t blending so gloriously with his own pleasure.  Own. What a funny word. Nothing is his own, anymore. His hips writhe, pushing himself into his own fist, and there’s no way of knowing if it’s his or James’s doing. He nearly chokes on his words. “Need– sleep.”  What was that? “Put me—fuck—make me sleep, James. Right now.” You want to sleep?  And can something with no body, a shade, a figment of thought–can some entirely unphysical thing find a way to smile so distinctly? The way Regulus can feel that knowing, winning grin stretch somewhere beneath his own clenched jaw? The way he can hear it pulling at the corners of the voice–that foreign, all-too familiar voice–in his own head?  James has found a way. James, who knows he’s won before Regulus can even voice his own defeat. Regulus, who knows he has to voice it, anyway. That’s the point isn’t it? To submit?  It’s no fun if it’s not given up willingly. When Regulus gives in, it’s more willing than he’s ever been in his life.  “I want to see you. I want you. I want the water. I’ll go in. Fuck, I’ll go in.” That echo of a smile, phantom victory, amplifies then, and for a moment Regulus thinks he might overflow with pure, luminous feeling.  And then, everything goes black.