#so it was funny how i was like oh what the hell- to deflate like a baloon in like 2 seconds

[baby-xemnas]

I love how sadistic, mean, creepy, trollish law seems to just have this absolute love for luffy things that overrides all else. Like I mean he’s had that fluffy had since he was a kid, wears those fluffy necked/lines clothing on multiple occasions, fluffy father figure in cora, his navigator who he is super protective over is mega fluffy and gets special cuddle privileges with mr trafalagar ‘don’t touch me I’ll stab you’ law. It’s just so amusing to me

i bristled like a sprayed cat at that first typo lmfao

YES. its great. he is all that terribleness (i say appreciatively) but he is also a enjoyer of finest things in life like fluffs

dude freaking kikoku has a furry white guard trim that matches his hat and his wife.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: "Dad. Did you post this."

Lucifer: "Oh my 'selfie' with your dear lovely Maggie?? Why yes I DID! Do you like it!?"

Charlie: "Dad."

Lucifer: "Since she's your loving girlfriend, who you love, I thought gosh! I should really have on my social media page! Make a change from all the ducks, ha ha!"

Charlie: "Dad did you write the- the caption on it?"

Lucifer: "The c- oh yes! Well I wanted everyone to know how much I ADORE my daughter's girlfriend!!"

Charlie: "You wrote-"

Lucifer: "See, the 'bad' here means 'good'! I checked! Bad and bitch are bad on their own, but when you put them together it's like a, er, a double negative making a positive, haha! Maggie's a bad bitch- she's AWESOME- which ahaha I'm sure YOU know since you're dating her-and now all of Hell knows I think so too!!!! ISN'T THAT SWELL!"

Charlie: "But the actual whole caption says-"

Lucifer: "'ME AND THE BAD BITCH I PULLED BY BEING CHARLIE'S DAD'!"

Lucifer: "Aww and the picture turned out so great! Look!"

Lucifer: ".... you don't look super thrilled about it, Char-char."

Charlie: "Pulled, dad... Do you know what 'pulled' can mean exactly, specifically, in THIS context..?"

Lucifer: "... pulled.... into a... hug? Like in the selfie...?"

Charlie: "Dad."

Charlie: (deep breath) "I can't believe I'm saying this..."

Charlie: "You made it sound like you SLEPT WITH my girlfriend."

Lucifer: "......."

Lucifer: "Oh. HA! That's..."

Lucifer: (deflating balloon noises as he literally shrivels up into a crumpled pile of clothes mostly hidden by his hat)

Charlie: "We're not angry!"

Lucifer: ".... i m s o r r y..."

Charlie: "It's okay!!! IT'S FINE. A little mentally scarring and socially mortifying not to mention something our friends won't EVER let us live down, but- well- Just... Just-"

Charlie: "No more social media meme posting without running them past me or Vaggie first, alright!?"

Lucifer: "If I delete the post maybe no one else will see it...."

Charlie: "Everyone in Hell has already seen it, dad."

Lucifer: "..i could delete myself instead"

Charlie: "And HOW would that help?"

Lucifer: "...it would make me feel better..."

Vaggie: "Honestly sir, the most embarrassing part is how you look young enough to be my teenage son."

Charlie: "Thanks, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Check out my stress wrinkles and scars next his baby smooth face. It's like I picked him up from a cradle somewhere."

Charlie: "Please don't joke about cradle robbing my actual father."

Vaggie: "Sorry babe."

Charlie: "I mean I'll NEVER be able to look at ANY of my parents' family portraits the same way ever AGAIN, but thank you for being SO understanding about the rumor you're dating my DAD!"

Vaggie: "Sir, what kinda skin routine are you even doing?"

Lucifer: "room full of rubber ducks and despair"

Charlie: "VAGGIE PLEASE."

Vaggie: "Sweetie, I'm ruffling his hair in the pic. It's hilarious."

Charlie: "I DON'T NEED THE REMINDER!"

Vaggie: "Feels like I'm about to call the king of hell 'kiddo' or something."

Lucifer: (a puddle on the floor) "i thought it was funny too"

Charlie: "Okay.... okay."

Charlie: "You two NEED to find a bonding activity that doesn't TRAUMATIZE me."

Vaggie: "Hmm."

Lucifer: "OH WE COULD-"

Charlie: "Or each other!"

Lucifer: "Oh well then I have nothing!"

Vaggie: "We'll always have that time you fake dated me online, sir someday dad-in-law."

Lucifer: "Our beautifully shared new horrifying past..."

Charlie: "Ha ha HA! Keep this up and either the dad part or the someday in-law part is gonna stop being accurate REAL quick!"

Vaggie: "It will?"

Charlie: "No but I'm trying to threaten you two right now so SHUSH."

[gravedigginbbydoll]

An Extra Step

Eddie Munson x Bilingual! GN Reader

AN: Heyo! So, I was randomly inspired to write this little blurb. I'm sorry for being AWOL so much, grad school has been kicking my ass. I promise to update my current WIPs as soon as I can. Anyways, this is based on myself being bilingual :) In the blue text is when the other language is spoken. I kept it vague and not specific so that other people who may be bilingual or have English as a second language could relate.

CW: mentions of food, mentions of family, mentions of childhood, no gender mentioned, pet names, kissing, emotional, fluffy

It started as a tiny thing, a little nudge from deep within. It was a warm summer day in Hawkins, you and Eddie relaxing in the trailer. Wayne had given you two your own trailer (right next to him, of course), and you had a jar on the table, coins and dollar bills stacked up in it, determined to get your own place one day together. Preferably a house or apartment, but that was a worry for later. You and Eddie were lounging about, you perched at the kitchen while Eddie was sprawled out on the sofa, attempting to cool off. You leaned against the counter, reading a postcard you’d received from a family member. You giggled at the message they wrote, peaking Eddie’s interest. He smiled, turning to you, sitting up a bit. 

“What’s so funny, babe?,” He asked, cocking his head in that golden retriever way, his eyes curious. 

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain. “Uh well… my cousin wrote me a postcard,” You explained, shrugging. 

Eddie walked over, looking over your shoulder at the note before he deflated a litte. “Oh. It’s not in English,” He stated, a bit disappointed. 

You nodded, biting your lip, thinking. You explained the joke briefly, giggling while doing so, but Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed and you felt your heart sink a bit. 

You never told Eddie, but sometimes you felt like you lost yourself little by little without your first language. Jokes translated incorrectly, you were unable to express certain things in English, and you felt like a part of yourself was dimmed. You wished Eddie could understand your family and even your own moments of frustration, when that little piece of you slipped out, only for him to look a bit confused.

You shook your head, smiling awkwardly, and putting up the letter. “Nevermind…It’s not as funny in English.” You put up the card, taking Eddie’s hand over to the couch. “C’mon. Let’s watch a movie.” 

Eddie could see the pain in your eyes when he didn’t understand your native tongue. He felt his heart squeeze each time, cursing himself for not learning it the moment he learned you had another piece to your puzzle. 

Which was what prompted the secret research. 

Fuck, Eddie had never even studied for school exams this hard. 

He started his search at the library, asking around and trying to see if there were any classes nearby. He learned there were some lessons and books around, though they had to be ordered and the meetings were three towns over. But anything to see you smile. 

Eddie poured over the books, kept a secret journal with all his notes from the clubs he attended (which truly were just people who spoke the language getting together to talk and exchange snacks, some of the older ladies pinching Eddie’s cheeks and smiling over at him.).

He knew you were suspicious, consistently glancing over at him confused when he would show up from the meeting late in the night, lying to say it was extra work hours. 

He poured over cassettes you had in your native tongue when you weren't home, learning the lyrics to your favorite songs. 

Hell, he even began trying to think in the language. (Easier said than done, he had no idea how you balanced the two)

But it was all worth it for that night. 

Eddie had taken the day off, gone to the international grocery store that was miles away, only to drive back, and begin prepping. He was making a meal he remembered you saying you missed, something near and dear to your heart and childhood. He knew it would take a bit of prep work and sweat, but Eddie was willing. 

He grinned to himself, heart swelling with pride. 

He couldn’t wait. 

When you walked through the door that night, you felt your heart stop. Familiar smells that you hadn’t smelled in years floated through the kitchen, your heart racing. You heard Eddie singing along softly in the kitchen, your native tongue clumsy on his lips, but making your heart swell, your eyes water a bit. 

“E-Eddie? What’s all this?,” You asked cautiously, eyebrows furrowed, eyes watering and blurring your vision. 

“It’s your favorite…I figured you deserved a treat!,” He replied…in your language. It was clumsy, the pronunciation not perfect. But your breath caught nonetheless. 

“You did all this…for me?,” You whispered, clutching tightly at your heart as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Eddie smiled softly, walking over, softly running a finger under your chin to look up at him. “Of course. I love you,” He whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. 

Tears streamed down your face, vision blurred as you threw your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder, your heart overflowing with emotions, your hands clutching at him. You whispered ‘I love you’ over and over, sobs racking your shoulders as Eddie held you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head. It meant the world to finally hear those words in your tongue and being able to whisper it back.

That night was filled with warm and full bellies, laughter and leading Eddie through pronunciation, learning of his secret little escapades (So that’s why he hadn’t been as hungry! Those little grandmas were stuffing him with food…) and showering Eddie with kisses. 

Never in your life had you felt so seen and loved. 

Eddie Munson was it for you.

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

A Princess' Guide to Interrogating a Radio Demon

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Charlie, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, interrogation (in the most playful sense). If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige.

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

This is my first fic for Hazbin Hotel, so any feedback would be welcomed and deeply appreciated! (also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future work - I'm quite sure this'll be FAR from my last fic for this fandom hehe)

Hope you enjoy!

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

Ever since he'd discovered glam metal, Angel has been blasting it nonstop from his room.

Unfortunately, his room happens to be directly beneath Alastor's... and the insulation in the hotel's walls leaves an awful lot to be desired. The Radio Demon's eye had been in a constant twitch for three days by the time he'd finally had enough.

"Alastor? Have you seen Angel's speakers?"

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

When Charlie appears in his doorway, the demon in question is sitting comfortably on his couch, sipping a mug of black coffee and reading a newspaper (though Charlie isn't sure how he acquired it - the local paper has been out of print for weeks).

"No. But I've certainly had the displeasure of hearing them."

"They've gone missing. Do you have any idea where they might be?"

"Far away, I hope."

Charlie rolls her eyes and leaves to go consult the other guests. The deer takes a long draw from his mug.

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

To Alastor's slight irritation, he only enjoys a few minutes of peace before the princess' voice echoes from the hall again.

"Oooh, Al...." Charlie sings.

"What is it, my dear?" the Radio Demon sings back absently.

"Nifty says she saw you with Angel's speakers yesterday."

"Did she?" He flips a page of his newspaper.

"Look, all I need to know is where you put them."

Long pause. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Alastor."

"Whaaat?" Though his eyes haven't left the page, his grin has widened slightly. "You think I'm lying?"

"You're always lying. That's your thing."

"...Touché."

Charlie perches on the sofa beside him.

"Are you gonna tell me where it is or not?"

"Fine. I'll be completely honest with you."

She perks up.

"I would honestly die a second death before subjecting myself to one more note of that infernal garbage."

Alastor's eyes flick up from his paper for the briefest of seconds, just to watch the bubbly princess' face fall into a delightfully exasperated scowl.

"You can't steal someone's stuff just because it annoys you!"

"On the contrary. That's exactly what I did."

Charlie narrows her eyes. "Alastor. You tell me where Angel's speakers are or else."

Alastor chuckles in spite of himself - Charlie's attempts to be intimidating never fail to amuse him.

"What's so funny about that?"

"My dear, I say this with the utmost respect and admiration for your many talents: there's a reason I tend to be the one called upon to scare off demonic threats."

Charlie huffs and crosses her arms. "Just because you're creepier and... more sadistic than me, doesn't mean I don't have ways of making you talk."

"Oh?" Alastor arches a skeptical eyebrow at his paper.

"So you better watch your step, Mister."

"Hmm. You make a compelling case." He flips another page. "Maybe I should tell you where Angel's poor excuse for music is."

Charlie brightens. "Really?"

"No."

The princess deflates.

He's right, of course: even if Charlie figures out a way to make herself legitimately threatening to the Radio Demon... he's the fucking Radio Demon. She may be the Princess of Hell, but she doesn't want to have to rebuild the hotel from rubble all over again.

The two sit in impassive silence for a few minutes - Charlie glaring at Alastor, Alastor staring stubbornly at his paper - until she finally stifles a sigh and slouches against the cushions. He's enjoying this, she just knows it. Sitting there with that stupid grin. He's probably been laughing to himself all night, imagining poor Angel waking up and finding his most prized possession missing.

She finds herself wishing she could make the old deer laugh himself sick sometime, just to teach him a lesson.

...Which is a horrible thought! Charlie's eyes widen, her brow furrowing in self-disgust. She could never bring herself to hurt Alastor, even via laughter.

In fact, she quite likes his laugh - it's a little maniacal, sure, and certainly hard to truly enjoy amid the gory contexts that typically trigger it. But if she knew a way to make him laugh at something other than another person's expense, she'd probably do it all the time... it's just that the things that make him laugh also tend to make Charlie nauseous.

Once again, the princess finds herself completely baffled by her own subjects. How one could be so tickled by anything that goes on down here - the pain, the violence, the gore...

Charlie tilts her head. She may have just gotten an idea.

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

If Alastor had happened to cast a quick glance down the couch, the smile creeping across Charlie's face would've been enough to give him real pause.

But since he is instead stubbornly focused on his paper, he is completely unprepared for the fingers that suddenly begin crawling oh-so-gently up his side.

To her initial disappointment, Charlie finds at least three layers of fabric dampening her touch, and aside from a subtle flinch at first contact, Alastor himself remains perfectly still.

But then a low buzz of radio static swells around them. As she probes up his ribs, she can hear a soft crinkle of paper as his grip tightens.

"Charlie..." His voice is oddly clipped.

"Mm?" Charlie takes one glance at his face, and her smile deepens - even Alastor's signature grin can't mask the effect. He's still technically staring at the paper, but his eyes have gone wide and blank. He opens his mouth to continue just as her fingers reach his armpit - and his jaw quickly clamps shut. It's clearly taking everything in him not to squirm.

"Got something to say, Al?" She starts pinching back down his ribcage.

"Mmph!" The giggles start in his chest, bubbling up and fighting to escape through clenched teeth. Soon his shoulders are shaking with the effort of holding them in.

"...Maybe about the location of a certain object?"

No response. The radio demon just curls forward a little, hiding his face in his paper.

Taking advantage of this new posture, Charlie slips her other arm around behind him, and gives a good pinch to both sides of his slender waist.

The demon straightens right back up with an audible gasp and tiny squeak of surprise (that he quickly tries to cover with a cough).

"Charlie! Are you s-seriously trying to-"

"Are you seriously ticklish?"

"No!"

In response she delivers another series of pinches to the same spot. His posture crumples again, until finally he loses his grip on his paper and twists to face her.

"No?" she giggles. And squeezes him again.

"Stop that!" He fumbles at her fingers, trying to pry them off his sides.

Instead Charlie swaps her hands, wrapping her fingers around his waist with both thumbs resting lightly on his stomach... and begins digging them right under his lower ribs.

That finally does it. He flinches back with a little snort, followed by soft but utterly helpless giggles pressed shyly into his hands.

"Awww!" Charlie coos.

"Keheh- f-fuckin'- heheh! - quiet!" His voice cracks amusingly on the last word.

There are about fifteen different things Charlie is dying to say as Alastor goes to pieces with laughter, but she can't think of anything that wouldn't risk embarrassing the poor guy - and humiliating him is the last thing she wants to do. The fact that Alastor hasn't instantly dissolved into shadows (or cursed her across the room) hasn't been lost on the princess; she is NOT about to jeopardize this moment by making him uncomfortable enough to do so.

That said, she is conducting an interrogation here.

"What was that about not being ticklish?"

His clutching at her wrists becomes more frantic. "Don't-!"

Alastor hyperventilates a couple times, trying to get ahold of himself - but then she continues squeezing down the sides of his belly, and he can only collapse into even worse laughter.

"I think I know just how to get you to talk..."

"Nohoho- ahagh, Charlie! Shihihit!"

Charlie shifts onto her knees for better leverage, gives him a gentle push backward, and pins him (surprisingly easily) against the couch. Her snaggle-toothed grin looms over him...

For a split-second, Alastor gets a flash of what his victims must've seen moments before they debuted on his show.

But he's pretty sure this isn't quite how they felt about it. He's already shaking with anticipatory giggles, grinning back at her wider than ever. And the giddy panic behind his eyes quickly forms an unlikely union with defiance.

"Do your worst, my dear."

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

To be continued... pt. II is already in the works, so stay tuned!!

Until next time - hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💕

💜 - Cozy

[komelrebi-san]

just a little gojo drabble bc i miss him sob

synopsis: gojo grows pimples and you just happened to know how to take care of his skin, except that it's not very satisfying on his end.

tw but not really: fem reader in mind but mostly gn, reader knows how to do facials, lots of fluff, kinda crack, intended lowercase.

a/n: @zhonglisbeloved wifeyyyyy how are uuuuu <3

perhaps it was overworking, perhaps it was skipping meals and eating sweets instead, he didn't know, but he sure was flabbergasted when he grew pimples.

he should be above these pesky things, damn it! blackheads, whiteheads, acne - whatever that is, he's the strongest, he will not be beaten by these things! hell, even when suguru or shoko grew a few back in his teenage years, he never grew any. so why now?

and it doesn't help when you are giggling your head off at him.

'hey! it's not funny!' he grumbled, crossing his arms after walking out of the bathroom one morning, the biggest pout on his face. he's grown another few pimples, large and red and swollen, some of them had little white dots, and it hurt like hell when he gingerly probed them.

'you- you look like- you look like rudolph-!' you were giggling your head off, pointing at the new whitehead that had grown on the tip of his nose, sitting there big and proud.

'shut up!' he pouted even more if possible and plopped onto the bed, covering his face. 'i can't believe i'm being beaten by stupid pimples. i wish i can just hollow purple-'

'hey, no. i can help.' you pull his hands away from his face, trying your best to not giggle. 'i'll be right back.' and with that, you disappear off into the bathroom, but not without poking a pimple on his cheek.

'ow! i hate you!'

---

moments later, you sit on the bed with his face on your lap. he peered up at you curiously as you rubbed creams and toners over his face, long lashes fluttering as his cerulean blue eyes followed your dainty fingers.

'hmm~ that feels nice.' he sighed, tilting his head to plant a little kiss on your wrist.

but the feeling didn't last long, because a moment later you'd pricked one of his biggest pimples with something sharp.

'ow! what- holy shit-' he flinched, whining as he pushed your hand away. you'd pricked the pimple with the needle end on a popper tool, and immediately the oily puss began flowing out.

'hey, stay still. let me-' you tried to coax him, but he immediately grabbed your hand and stopped you, his eyes glaring up at the stick in your hand.

'gojo satoru, let me go and stay still or i'll let you stay gross with your pimples forever.' you sighed, scowling back at him. and of course, at the use of his government name, he stopped immediately, but the glare never softened. the pout came back onto his face, but he lets you continue anyway with an incoherent grumble.

an achingly hour filled with whines and yelps of pain later, you are finally done with his facials. the once swollen pimples had deflated and the blackheads on his nose were now little pores you could barely see, all that was left to do is soothe the red pressure blotches left on his pale skin.

he was about to grumble again upon seeing your hands reach for his face, but the grumble faded away when you applied cool creams, fingers rubbing the still slightly painful spots carefully.

'...never do that again. that was hell.' he huffed, pouting.

'well, take it or leave your pimples be. you can stay gross forever, i guess. but no more kisses.' you shrugged, giggling as he fell quiet and crossed his arms.

oh, but you did kiss away the pout later after you applied a mask. little did he know, the next week to come would be zero ice cream or mochi or sweets of any kind, but full of chicken breasts and broccoli, and of course, pimple poppers.

[pazziville]

Can I Be Him — A Pazzi Fic

Wherein Paige Bueckers, UConn’s prolific point guard, has been in love with Azzi Fudd, her longtime best friend and current teammate for the longest time. The persistence in scouting the girl to the huskies was not for nothing. But of course, Paige kept this fact to herself. Yet, even after all these years, behind the basketball star’s confident and cocky-like attitude, lies insecurities for seemingly not being enough for Azzi.  Azzi constantly reminding Paige of the reality that she may never have feelings for the girl the same way the girl has for her when she repeatedly talks to Paige about her boy problems, deflates the latter’s self-esteem, while Azzi remains unaware. With the next season around the corner and Paige’s newfound courage to move on from Azzi, what would become of their relationship?

CHAPTER 3.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

word count: 1,127

“You know you can’t just bribe me with a Shirley Temple and not explain your side of what happened earlier.” Azzi laughs at Paige’s way of getting her to speak up and communicate. She sure knows how to make the younger laugh and open up to her.

Azzi places down her drink and gives in, “I was jealous of you and Nika.”

Paige, shocked by Azzi’s confession, chokes on her drink. Azzi panics, standing up and getting behind Paige, then proceeding to hardly slap her back repeatedly as an attempt to ‘save’ the girl.

“Azzi what the hell are you doing?!” Paige’s face was red from choking and was even struggling to question Azzi’s action.

“Helping! What does it look like I’m doing?!” Azzi seemed offended Paige was even asking that question.

“Well, stop it! You’re making me choke even more!” Azzi lets out a low ‘oh’ in realization and scratches her head, “My bad, went a little overboard.” She apologizes and sits back down, now avoiding eye contact with the blonde.

Silence followed Paige’s choking incident, but she wouldn’t let Azzi not expound on what she just said a while ago.

“What did you mean when you said you were jealous of me and Nika?” Paige breaks the silence and Azzi’s face turns hot in an instant, something Paige was oblivious to but Azzi felt like she was literally in the Sahara while being in an airconditioned establishment.

“Azzi?” Paige noticed Azzi looked out of it, growing concerned.

The older girl stretches her arm and feels Azzi’s face. When Azzi flinches, Paige grips her arm tightly but not roughly, “Are you sick?”

“What? No?” Azzi answers with a short and fake laugh to break the tension she felt.

Paige had her hand on Azzi’s face longer than she should have, not even realizing that she has been longing for Azzi’s presence after an entire summer of not seeing each other because of Azzi spending more time with Parker. She sees Azzi’s intense stare at her and pulls back her hand, clears her throat, and recoups herself.

“How are things with you and Parker?” Paige’s questions catches Azzi off guard, making her uncomfortable, but she plays it off not wanting Paige to think she’s the one making her feel that way when in fact it was the mention of Parker.

Azzi takes a sip of her drink before answering, “He’s funny. Nice. Great at basketball.”

“Are you interested in him?” The blue eyed girl asks Azzi with softness written all over her eyes and at this point, Azzi knew they were eyes she wanted to keep seeing for the rest of her life. So, despite knowing the answer to the question deep inside her heart, she chooses to lie.

“I am.” Two words that were enough for Paige’s heart to drop. Yet, she loves the girl too much. Enough for her to choose to lie to herself if it was to make the girl happy. She gives Azzi a genuine smile, “That’s all I needed to know.” Paige wanted to say so much more, but it was all she could get herself to say.

She was in pain, but that didn’t matter because her best friend had finally found herself someone and what she felt didn’t matter. She should be happy for Azzi and she was trying. If it was for Azzi, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do.

Seeing how Paige was seemingly happy for her, Azzi thought it was the perfect time to explain herself and the incident regarding Paige and Nika earlier, “About Nika. Ice made me realize I was jealous of the fact Nika and you are starting to have the friendship we share. Which sort of aggravated me once I saw you were also starting to care for her the same way you care for me, leading me to say those words to you.”

Paige just listened to the girl carefully, her heart too heavy to even say a word.

“I’m sorry for what I said, Paige. I truly am sorry. You are not careless nor stupid. If anyone was at that moment, it was me and I just–” Azzi starts rambling out of guilt and as Paige recognizes it, cutting off the curly haired girl immediately, “Can you stand for me?”

“Huh?” Azzi, confused, doesn’t do what Paige asks of her. 

Paige is forced to leave her seat, walks up to Azzi’s side, gently grabbing her arm up for her to stand, and hugs her. She hugs her tightly and although the shorter one was puzzled, she hugs her back in the same intensity she was being hugged. Azzi craved Paige’s presence just as much as Paige craved Azzi’s, yet none of them knew that. But for a moment, their hug communicated the longing the two had for each other.

“Close or far. With me or without me. Even if you see me or you don’t. You’ll always have me as your best friend, Paige.” And that was it. Azzi’s words were enough for Paige to hug her tighter and make up her mind about moving on because in the end this was the extent of their relationship.

Azzi will never see you as more than her best friend and it would be unfair for her if you do. A tear falls from Paige’s eye and she sniffles as a result, making it known to Azzi that her best friend had gotten emotional, but when she attempts to check up on Paige by releasing herself from the girl’s embrace, Paige repositions her left arm to Azzi’s head, pushing it gently back to her shoulder.

“You’ll always have me as your best friend too, Azzi.” This time, it was Azzi’s turn to be teary eyed and bury her head deeper into Paige’s shoulder.

“Let me make it up to you. From now on I’ll be a better best friend.” Paige promises and Azzi wasn’t so sure if she even wanted Paige to fulfill it.

I don’t want you to. A thought that stayed in Azzi’s mind, unable to get past her tongue because she was too scared. Too caught up in the possible consequences. Too frightened she’d lose the best thing she’s ever had. 

I’m yours. Words that Paige always told Azzi and she always never knew what to say in response, but right now, she did, although it may have been too late. Paige Bueckers was the best Azzi Fudd’s ever had and she’s known it since forever, but has been too much of a coward to admit it. Not until now that she’s starting to lose the girl. Meanwhile for Paige, all the years of her asking herself the question ‘Can I be him?’ has finally been answered: She no longer can.

a/n: here's a sort of filler chapter. sorry to have kept those who anticipate updates waiting. hopefully everyone's doing well. much love. <3

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

hii !! as i am a sucker for hurt/comfort could you maybe please write smth where emily prentiss x f!reader are already in a relationship and rewrite the episode with tobias hankel to be with the reader the one who gets kidnapped instead of spencer? thank you !

It’s not your fault

Summary: Rewrite of the Tobias Hankel storyline but reader gets kidnapped instead of Reid, Emily and reader are already in a relationship.

TW: kidnapping, torture, drug addiction, involuntary use of drugs, depression, hurt/comfort

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

A/N: I've never rewritten an epsiode before so tell me how I did!! Hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

Emily pov:

JJ's here, y/n's..... where's y/n? Oh god please. "JJ look at me." Morgan cut off her panicky rambling. "Look at me. Where's y/l/n?"

"We split up. She said she was going to go in the back."

I hear someone yell that the house was clear.

"So where the hell is she?"

My heart dropped into the my stomach. 

I frantically start searching the property for some sign of her as I walk towards the corn field, it looks like someone was dragged through it jeez. Wait, it looks like someone was dragged through it.

"I think y/l/n followed him into the corn field! It looks like somebody got dragged."

Instantly the team is by my side, desperately searching for y/n/n. My girlfriend, the reason I wake up in the morning. Gone. My chest starts to tighten and tears prick my eyes, I swallow down the lump in my throat and keep looking. I can't break down right now, I need to find her.

—

Reader pov:

My eyes are blurring and my head is pounding. I try to move but my hands and feet are bound to a chair, painfully tight. My thoughts are all over the place, where am I? What happened out there? Did JJ get taken too? Just as I'm about to try get out of the binds a person slams open the door.

He's carrying fish. It stinks.

"They're burning fish hearts and liver to keep the devil away." I stare at him without saying anything, I don't want to.

"They believe you can see inside men's mind."

I hold back the urge to roll my eyes.

"It's not true. I study human behaviour."

"You know what this is? It's god's will." He says totally ignoring my response already set in his ways. "Time to confess, y/n y/l/n."

"I have nothing to confess."

He slapped me. Once, twice, three times.

"CONFESS!"

Tears slip from my eyes, I don't say a word. He pulls out a knife and starts to slice my skin. A crimson river flows out of my paling skin, pain coursing through my body. I still don't crack. His fist makes contact with my face.

I just want this to end. I finally give into the exhaustion slipping into a dreamless sleep.

—

Emily's pov:

"I'm talking tomorrow morning to some guy who knew Hankel from narcotics anonymous. You should come with me. Why don't you come with me, get out of the house?" I say to JJ as I enter the bathroom.

"Yeah." she says back, clearly shaken up and deflated from the recent events.

"Okay. Great." I walk out of the bathroom and into my room.

There it is again, that funny feeling, like I'm being sat on. Or like there's a weight in my chest. Climbing into my bed I can feel it constricting my breath. Tears are pouring out of my eyes at this point, my legs are tucked into my chest and my breaths are short and fast. A wave of pain comes over me as I think about what's happening to y/n. She's hurting and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm failing her.

—

Reader pov:

"What's your name?" I ask the same man who walked in before. He's got multiple personalities that I need to differentiate between, I need to play this right.

"Tobias."

"Tobias? Who was here before?"

"It was probably my father. I'm sorry if he hurt you."

I see him reach into his pocket and pull out a bottle and a syringe. Oh god, please no. Don't do it Tobias please.

"What are you doing? Don't. Please don't."

"It helps. Don't tell my father. He doesn't know they're here."

"Please I don't want it. I don't want it please."

I can feel the warmth pulsing through my body. My system being thrown into a high almost immediately. I hate every second of it. I start to slip in and out of consciousness. I need Emily. I need the warmth of her skin, the softness and comfort of her voice. I need her kisses on my skin. I fight to keep my eyes awake but fail.

—

Emily pov:

"So what was Tobias' drug of choice?"

"Dilaudid."

The man keeps talking about how Tobias' dad used to beat him and burnt a cross onto his forehead. That's one hell of a stressor.

My head is spinning as we get back to the local PD. The evidence was all adding up, we had a name, address, background, information about his personalities. Why can't we find her? We even have live footage of her door goodness sake! I try to control my anger and begin licking furiously at my fingers, biting my nails. I need to find her.

"She's in a cemetery."

We call Garcia and get her to find a cemetery near by and there's one right by the barn. I don't think I've run to an SUV faster to be honest, I need her, need to hold her. To know she's okay.

—

Reader pov:

Im digging my own grave. This is not the way I wanted to go out.

"I ought to bury you alive in there, give you time to think about what you done." He stares daggers into my back as I dig.

"Dig faster!" He yelled at me, I can't dig any faster.

"I'm not strong enough." I say, dejected. I can't do this anymore.

"Y/L/N!" I hear someone yell in the distance.

"Over there!" Another voice calls out, I'm too delirious to register who.

"You killed him." Tobias said to me.

"Tobias" I say, suddenly feeling remorse for him, I don't know what's happening.

I see his body fall limp and realise somebody had shot him, it was over.

“Are you okay?” I hear Hotch say.

“Yeah, uhm can I have a minute alone?” I slowly walk up to Tobias’ body and stealthily reach into his pocket and take the dilaudid. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the only way I can cope right now.

As I’m walking away, Emily is straight by my side, just like always. She’s the only person who knows me, like really knows me. She’s everything to me.

“How are you holding up?” Her gentle voice breaks through the mist of confusion that had descended over me.

“I’m okay. Or, I will be.”

“Yeah, you will. I promise.”

—

Time skip to around a month after

Emily pov:

I’m walking through the doors of the apartment me and y/n share and I hear- well, nothing. Which is strange because normally she’s watching tv, doing something in the kitchen or making some kind of racket.

She might’ve gone out.

I try to reassure myself but have a sinking feeling of dread in my stomach. She’s not been the same after what happened with Hankel. It’s like someone flipped a switch while she was there, like something happened and now she’ll never be the same again.

I’m sure she’s fine.

I try to distract myself and go to take a shower. I walk into our bedroom and see the bathroom door is ajar, I go to look inside and see who’s in there - I assume it’s y/n/n. The sight before me is an awful one. She’s sitting on the floor, needle in hand, taking dilaudid.

“Oh my sweet girl.”

The look of guilt on her face as she realises I’m there break my heart into a million pieces.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried to stop, I really did. I didn’t want it I promise, I’m so sorry em.” Her eyes never met mine.

“Honey, it’s not your fault. Let’s stop this okay?”

She reluctantly nods and hands me the drugs. I tip the rest down the toilet and flush it. I put the needle on the side, planning to dispose of it later.

I offer her my hands and help her off the floor. As I bring her into my embrace, she’s noticeably thinner. The more I found out the more my mind races. What do I do? What do I do?

—

Y/n pov:

Oh god, oh god. I didn’t want her to find out. I’m trying to get a handle on it, she’s gunna be so mad at me.

I can feel my hands shaking and tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. Her hands clutch mine and helps me to my feet and pulls me into her. That’s when I finally break down.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. You didn’t do this. We’re going to get you help yeah sweetheart?”

I nod into her neck, where my head lays. My frail body feeling exhausted after this sudden intervention in my daily dose, the withdrawal settling in.

“Em..”

“I know, I know. And I’m going to be with you through it, okay?”

“Thank you. I love you so much emmy.”

“I love you too y/n/n.”

It’s going to be a long road, but, being with her is going to make it so much easier. I’m so grateful for having her in my life.

A/N if you ever struggle with addiction, please never hesitate to reach out and please seek help, you are never alone. You don’t have to suffer in silence.

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

So anybody feeling rather nosy today?

Well I finished Kickin’s entire diary a few weeks ago, and since Hoppy never really got the chance to read the entire thing, I thought I’d share it here!

Please note, on the following dates

November 4, 1997

March 10, 1998

September 4, 1998

Kickin does write down some s*icidal thoughts, that may be triggering to some people. I’d advise you to skip past those if they are triggering for you. I’ll mark them with bold text so you know.

Diary is under the cut! Have fun snooping!

August 26, 1995

I found this notebook by one of the kids’ beds. He didn’t use it at all so I figured it was alright to take it! Not that he is here to stop me anyways. I decided to start writing stuff in here! Just whatever I’m thinking, whenever I feel like it, I guess. Whenever I feel like it. God, that is a WEIRD sentence to say. Or write. But it’s true! It’s my life now! Whenever I feel like it! No more stupid employees here! Haha, get wrecked! Losers. Oh, Hoppy’s calling me. I’m gonna go! I’ll write in you again later! I promise! Wait, why am I promising a notebook that I’ll do something?

October 2, 1995

Okay so I kinda forgot about this thing. Oops! Anyways, I’m getting bored. The soccer ball is starting to deflate and we can’t find the pump. This SUCKS dude. Like, I get the prototype is busy doing whatever, but if he’s all powerful like he says can’t he give us some entertainment around here? Like sheesh! There’s nothing to do. I’m so bored.

October 16, 1995

I’m thinking of growing my hair out. I mean, Crafty is doing it! And it’s getting annoying constantly cutting it. It grows back really fast. Maybe I’ll go for a mullet type look! Just maybe though.

October 29, 1995

DogDay’s missing. We don’t know where he went. We tried searching for him but CatNap told us not to. It’s always what CatNap says. Stupid. I’m going to keep looking anyways. I’m gonna find him.

October 30, 1995

Never mind.

January 1, 1996

Hey, new year! It kinda sucks though. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate. Also, big problem. Bobby found out about my secret crush. Oh I hope nobody ever reads this thing. Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like-like Hoppy. She’s just so cute and pretty and funny and spunky and cool and I love it when she talks about outer space it’s so interesting!!! She’s so fast too, like crazy fast! I think she’s too fast though. She beats me at literally EVERYTHING. That’s okay though! I’m gonna keep getting better until I can win! But yeah. Bobby found out. I’m terrified for my life.

January 23 1996

So we’re starting to run out of food. Catnap said to trust in the prototype and that he’s gonna save us and stuff. I call bull. We need food, not a savior! But he said the prototype has a plan, so I guess we’ll be fine. Still though, I’m getting tired of eating moldy salami.

February 6, 1996

Crafty’s starting to lose it. She started nagging me nonstop because she keeps running out of red marker. I’m gonna avoid her from now on. Her drawings are getting weird. Really weird. Like borderline creepy stuff. She’s going bonkers man, I’m telling you.

May 16, 1996

We ran out of food. Woke up this morning to Picky scoring through the rest of our god damn supply. I swear I am going to SCREAM DUDE!! So what if she’s always hungry?! She’s not the only one who needs food to survive! Unbelievable. What the hell are we going to do now?

May 17, 1996

So that was CatNap’s back up plan. Oh my god. I don’t want to even think about what I’ve done today. I recognized him. Who I ate. He was there when I first woke up. Taking notes in the corner of the room on his clipboard. I feel sick to my stomach. How long are we going to have to do this for?

June 2, 1996

Today feels special. I don’t know why. It just does. Also I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as much. I’m just scared of getting caught writing in this thing. What if someone reads it? What if CatNap reads it? Will he get mad at me for what I wrote a few months ago about the prototype? Maybe I should erase it. No I can’t do that, I wrote it in marker. I’m going to keep this thing hidden inside my zipper pocket for now, until I find a better spot.

July 22, 1996

There was a freaking execution today. I’m so disturbed right now. It was one of the tiny DogDays. I’m not really sure what he did, but CatNap made us all watch as he ripped the poor guy apart. He said that’s what happens if you are a heretic. That’s what happens if you speak out even the slightest against the prototype. Bubba told me that he thought one of the other minis had tattled to CatNap about what that tiny DogDay did. That’s insane. I can’t imagine any of my friends doing that to me. Would they do that to me? No, I’m being an idiot. They’d never do that. Regardless I can’t let him find this thing. I don’t want to end up like that mini.

August 8, 1996

It’s officially been a full year since the Hour of Joy. It’s weird to think about. How many full humans have I eaten by now? Maybe eight? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? I lose count. I don’t feel anything when I eat them anymore. It’s easier to imagine them without faces. I always cut off the head so I don’t have to see it. On the bright side, we finally found the pump for the soccer ball. Hoppy and I can finally start playing again. I don’t really think either of us want to though. At least not right now.

September 12, 1996

Hoppy and I had another fight today. I’m writing in this thing because Bobby made us separate. I don’t like being mad at her. I want to apologize but I’m scared to approach her right now. I miss DogDay. I don’t write about him much but I miss him. His name is kind of forbidden to even speak nowadays. Picky thinks he abandoned us. I don’t think he did. He’d never do that. But if he did I want him to come back. Everything’s falling apart without him.

January 12, 1997

I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I don’t really know what to write about today though so I’m gonna end it off here.

February 7, 1997

Sometimes I wonder if I should name this journal something. But I’m not very creative when it comes to names. Crafty is though. She’s been really different lately though. She’s gotten really cheerful for some reason. But say the wrong thing and suddenly you’re on the ground. I’m scared of her. I don’t know what’s going on with her but if she doesn’t get that fixed soon she’s going to get herself killed. Or kill someone else. Either of the two. Maybe even both.

April 25, 1997

Nothing to write about today. I’m just not going to. I don’t feel like it. My hand hurts. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.

June 2, 1997

It’s the weird day again. The one that feels like it should be special. I don’t know what that feeling is. I asked Bubba about it. He knows a lot, I thought he’d probably know that too. He didn’t though. He said he got that feeling too, sometimes. But neither of us knew why.

June 19, 1997

We ran out of food. I didn’t even know that was possible. There were so many humans working in this factory, how did we run out of them? The entire Playcare was in panic today. CatNap calmed us all down. He said not to worry, because the prototype always has a plan. Okay. If the prototype always has a plan, what is it? Because I’m tired of this whole stupid mess! I want to know what it is! Why can’t I know what it is? This is so dumb! The prototype is so dumb! It makes me want to tear all my feathers out!!!!

September 19, 1997

IM SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY I DONT KNOW WHAT TO EAT THERES NOTHING I HAVENT EATEN IN SO LONG I NEED FOOD I NEED FOOD. IM HAVING THESE SCARY THOUGHTS NOW I WANT THEM GONE! I DONT WANT TO HURT ANYONE BUT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO

September 19, 1997

I did it. I needed to eat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Picky told us how to find food. There’s plenty of it in the Playhouse. Like livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered. CatNap was so mad. But we have food now. And we all know he’s been eating them too. I feel like a monster. They were like us. But Bubba told me it was necessary. We were all going to die if we didn’t. I’m still sorry though.

November 4, 1997

Bubba got gassed. Badly. I’m so worried about him. We don’t even know why, we just walked in the room and there he was, laying on the ground with scratch marks all over him. How could CatNap have done such a thing? He’s sick. Just sick. I’ve been taking care of him now. I don’t want to leave his side. I’m worried that if I leave for a moment that something will happen to him. Hoppy’s been making me stay active. Sometimes she’s the only reason I keep going on. It’d be so easy just to end it all. She’s there for me though. I love her. God, I love her. I never want anything to happen to her. But I know something’s going to happen to her. That something’s going to happen to all of us eventually. When it happens to her though, it’s gonna happen to me next. I promise it will.

November 14, 1997

I found a boombox today. It’s really cool. I’ve been playing it for Bubba recently. He’s still asleep. I hope he wakes up soon. Did I ever mention in here that I like to dance? It’s really fun. It makes me forget about everything that happened. I lose myself in the movements. I don’t really even know how I know how to dance. I never learned it as a toy. I think I’m gonna go do it now though.

December 3, 1997

THAT JERK! THAT HORRIBLE STUPID DISGUSTING DUMB JERK! I HATE HER! I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER! HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO BUBBA?? WHEN HAS HE EVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT NICE TO HER???? BUT NOOOOO, I GUESS KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING IN THE EYES OF PICKY PIGGY! ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS HERSELF AND HER APPETITE! I WOULDVE RIPPED OFF SOOO MUCH MORE THAN HER EAR IF I COULD! BUT THEN HOPPY AND BOBBY HAD TO COME IN AND RESTRAIN ME! STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID! IM GOING TO KILL HER WHEN I GET THE CHANCE! AND ITS GOING TO BE SLOW AND BRUTAL AND ITS GOING TO HURT!

January 1, 1998

Yay. New year. Yippee.

March 4, 1998

Something bad happened today. I knew it would happen eventually. I think we all did. Crafty finally lost it on the wrong person. She attacked CatNap and then he ripped off her hands as punishment. I could hear every. Single. Agonizing second of her screams. I thought I was used to screaming by now. I guess I was just telling myself that. I hope she survives. That was a lot of blood.

March 6, 1998

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. Hoppy’s leaving. She just told me she is. Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty are leaving Playcare in a week. They can’t leave. They can’t. CatNap’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them brutally. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what’s outside of Playcare? Plenty of toys who would be willing to hurt them for food. Hoppy told me to come with them. I can’t go with them. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want them to die. They can’t leave. I don’t want them to leave. But I can’t change Hoppy’s mind. She’s leaving with or without me. How could she do that to me? Just leave me here, all alone with Picky? Bubba’s still asleep. She’s the only one I’ll have to talk to. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m scared. I need to stop them.

March 8, 1998

what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done

March 9, 1998

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. I messed up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me. I keep seeing her. She talks to me in my head now, telling me she won’t ever forgive me, no matter how much I grovel and beg. Sometimes I don’t even think it’s in my head. Am I going insane? You don’t deserve to stay sane. You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

March 10, 1998

The blood won’t come off. It stained my hands. Maybe I deserve that. You do deserve that. You’re right. You’re always right. I deserve it. I haven’t moved from my bed since it happened. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. Bubba needs me though. At least if Picky tries eating him again there’s nobody to stop me from making her pay this time. I don’t know why I don’t just give up. I should. I made a promise that I would once Hoppy went. Maybe it’s Bubba. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt so alone before. I deserve to feel alone.

March 24, 1998

I’ve been seeing her a lot lately in my dreams. Always the screaming and then the ear. And then she tells me it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I still don’t understand. Am I selfish for not understanding? Yeah. Probably. But all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand. Picky’s been avoiding me. That’s fine. I don’t want to see her either.

April 12, 1998

You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t care if CatNap catches me going into the Playhouse. I need to see what’s inside. Maybe she’s inside, and that’s why we aren’t allowed in. I’m going to find her. I’m going to make things right with her. I refuse to believe she’s gone.

July 16, 1998

July. It’s already July. I took that long to recover? Seriously? That was three whole months. Well, I guess loosing an eye will do that to you. I’m still surprised that Picky took care of me while I was hurt. I tried to ask her why but she didn’t respond, so I guess that was that. That doesn’t matter though. He’s alive. He’s alive. DogDay’s alive! He’s been here this entire time, sitting right below our noses and we had no clue! If I can just figure out a way to get him out then he can save us all from this mess! I know he can! I just need to find a way.

July 20, 1998

Bubba woke up. He finally woke up! Oh my god, he finally woke up! It’s been how long, eight months? I’m so thankful. He’s really scared though. He must’ve been through hell. I know from experience the nightmares that stuff gives you aren’t pleasant. I can’t imagine going through that for a whole year. Poor guy.

July 21, 1998

Bubba’s been having trouble walking lately. His legs give out whenever he tries. I guess that makes sense. He hasn’t used his legs in a while. I wish I knew how to give him the proper treatment he needs. Actually, there’s an idea. I should check inside of the school. I’m sure there is something in there about comas.

July 22, 1998

OKAY SO THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. Not only did I find absolutely NOTHING, but I almost got my head bashed in with a freaking mace! That biology teacher has gone wack. Completely wack. Then again, she’s not the only one. I still hear Hoppy. She still visits me. I’ll be in the middle of something and then I’ll just see her. I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I know that’s really bad. But I enjoy seeing her. Even if all she does is cuss me out. It gives me hope. Hope that she’s not Never mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Bury that nice and deep along with the other scary thoughts. She’s not dead. She’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead.

August 8, 1998

Third year anniversary. Or is it the fourth? I don’t feel like doing the math. Bubba can walk again now, but all he does is sit against a wall. It feels like my effort was wasted, if I’m honest. He doesn’t like eating. Or sleeping. He hates sleeping. I tried to give him some books to read that I stole from the councilors office, but he ignored them. Some days he refuses to sleep so badly to the point where I have to knock him out for him to get a little shut eye. I feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve this. If I could take his place I would in a heartbeat. Maybe if it was me instead of him I wouldn’t have messed up so horribly.

September 4, 1998

It’s one of those days where the hallucinations are bad again. Sometimes I wonder if it even is a hallucination. Am I actually seeing her? She’s looking over my shoulder right now. Watching me write. She looks so real. And the stuff she says feels so real. I want her to be real. I want to hold her in my arms. She just told me if I ever try to do that she’s going to push me off the cloud I’m on. I think she knows I wouldn’t save myself.

September 18, 1998

Bubba’s been getting better. He’s started talking again. Only sometimes though. And he never says much. It’s a start though.

November 10, 1998

I think I just saw Picky chasing Hoppy away from the councilors office. I must’ve just been hallucinating again. She was carrying something though. It looked like a computer? I’ve never seen that before. Probably just another hallucination.

[professionallyyappinabtangst]

Impressed Yet

TW - Cursing, A Single Nut Joke, Like Slight Nsfw If You Look Hard Enough-

Requested!

WC - 1417

Now.. you remember how to do this Ash David even helped you and you can do this. The poor beta tried to hype himself up as he looked at the bowl holding the pizza dough. All you had to do now was cook it- and not burn it. 

It had been a while since Ash ordered some pizza. It felt wrong eating it while his loving mate was gone. The former guilty pleasure had now become a meal shared between him and his mate. And while Baaabe was returning from a long work trip. They mentioned wanting Pizza, and originally he was going to order it-.. But for some reason, he decided to listen to David.. And make the pizza from scratch-

So he went to the store and gathered the much-needed ingredients. But somehow still managed to forget the yeast- it was such an odd ingredient.. He was sure it wasn’t all that important anyway.

Now if I remember correctly.. You just gotta preheat the oven.. The recipe says to preheat it to 475- but.. The last time I did that, I got charcoal- instead of chicken.. Asher rubbed the back of his head, this was too much- maybe he should’ve just ordered it. No.. no.. I'm already this far. I'm not giving up now! Now let's read this damn recipe. 

Step 2 - Dust your hands with flour and push the dough down so it deflates a bit. Then divide the dough in half. Form 2 round balls of dough put said dough balls in separate. Bowls and cover in plastic; let sit for 15 minutes to 2 hours. 

Lol, balls-.. No, because this is much harder than they make it sound.. Why do they look like nu-.. Actually’ll shut up now. Just round and knead.. This is put in that bowl and put that one in the other bowl.. And set a timer.. Baaabe gets home in 3 hours.. And I want it to be done by then. So 20 minutes right?.. 

Well.. I should probably start preparing the toppings that is the next step.. 

Asher hummed to himself as he unevenly chopped the onions, and chopped some very thick sausages. Ripped apart bacon strips.. As well as stole a few pieces for him.. After all, gotta feed the chef am I right? He looked down at the poorly chopped mess and smiled. He did that.. He knew it wasn’t the best, it didn’t take a genius to tell him that. But he was proud of what he had done. Now where did he put that pizza sauce?

Asher looked around the kitchen.. Where did he put it? Cabinet? No fridge? No. On the counter in an orange bowl yes… was it in the frid- wait what- mentally slapping himself Asher grabbed the orange bowl and brought it over to the flour-coated mess he was calling a counter. He had checked the fridge enough times to know the cheese was in there. Did he buy too many bags of shredded cheese? 

5 bags.. 2 bags for the meat pizza and the other 3 for the cheese pizza. He did the math right- right? Oh, who cares.. Asher started to tear open the bags practically; mozzarella cheese felt like the only reasonable type of cheese to buy- like having a pizza let alone a cheese pizza without mozzarella cheese is like a crime. And poured them into a bigger bowl. 

His phone erupted with noise, which must have been the timer, stopping the destructive mess he called preparation. Removing the plastic from the dough once again.. He could see why they had him preheat the oven. He had already been at this for over 2 hours- and that was before Baaabe’s text. He still had an hour and some change before his mate returned home. And if all shit went to hell.. He had Max’s Pizza on speed dial. He smiled at himself with that little knowledge in the back of his mind. 

Step 4 - Working one ball of dough at a time, take one ball of dough and flatten it with your hands on a lightly floured work surface- use your fingertips to press the dough to 1/2 inch thick. Turn and stretch the dough until it can no longer stretch.  Let the dough rest for 5 additional minutes. Until the desired diameter! 10-13 inches

Treat the dough gently! 

Hmm… maybe I could try those funny-shaped pizzas.. I could do a heart.. That’d be cute- and the dough just ripped- how do I fix this- uhhh.. What if I just fold the rip over.. And.. now it just looks like a Frankenstein's type heart thing- maybe Baaabe won’t mind- like it’s the thought that counts. Now be a little less aggressive.. The crust is the best part.. I should include enough room so I could put cheese in the crust. Oooo.. that’ll be so fucking good.. Mmm.

And now the second one.. Flatten, spread. This one is just gonna be normal.. I want this one to look somewhat like a circle, or at least an oval. I have to be soft with the dough. I don’t want this one to rip. Good thing, I'm good with my hands.. Heh, now that's done, what is the fifth step? 

Step - 5 Brush the dough top with olive oli. Using your fingertips to press down and make dents along the surface of the dough- to prevent bubbling. 

This requires a lot of oil- like Jesus..  Though there is nothing better than greasy pizza. What you do to one you have to do to the other.. Lol.. I feel like I should sprinkle something so the dough won’t stick to the baking sheet- Naahhh, it’ll be fineeeee. Nothings gonna go wrong. 

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

Asher looked at the mess, that he called dinner. The toppings on the meat pizza seemed too sloppily spelled ‘’ Impressed Yet? ‘’ he smiled at his handly work- Asher’s smile faded.. He was coming upon the hard part. Actually cooking the pizza, he didn’t want the pizza to burn.. Nor burn the apartment down- but one thing at a time. Alright, the final and last step.. We’ve gotten this far- 

Step - 9 Bake pizza in the 475’F oven, one at a time until the crust is browned and the cheese is golden. Or about 10 to 15 minutes.  

Seems easy enough, just slide this off that. And put that on that! And poof! Now put it in the hot oven. Now.. what was he supposed to do now? Well, baaabe should have been home by now. Ash questioned what was taking them so long before grabbing some chips and heading to sit on the couch. Before long his eyes started to drift.. And next thing he knew lights out.  

Not too long after our boy went to sleep. The door opened, and a wonderful smell filled Baaabe’s nose as they shut and locked the door behind them. Did Ash order some pizza?.. No, they didn’t see any boxes and stuff on the counter, now that had thought about it where was Asher? They put their bags down and went to look for him, god it had been a long week. 

They were finally happy to be home. They checked the bedroom and bathroom. They would have seen him in the living room. Pulling out their phone and walking back into the kitchen. They saw something they’d never think they would see in their life. 

‘’ A-Ash..? ‘’ Baaabe was confused. Was he..?

‘’ Hey, Baaabbe! I was wondering when you got home! I made dinner ‘’ Asher was practically glowing. The pizza was slightly burnt- and not as thick as the usual ones they got from Max’s but it’s fineeee. 

‘’ Y-y..you made dinner? And didn’t burn.. The place down.. Holy Shi- ‘’ 

Stunned wasn’t the word to be used. Baaabe was surprised, and the pizza actually looked edible.  

‘’ I know.. I'm a bit surprised too.. But you said you wanted some pizza.. And I’d thought I would try to make you some..’’ 

Baaabe smiled and made their way over to their lovable partner. As he set the hot pizza down. And pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

‘’ you lovable dork.. You’ve been hiding these cooking skills from me? ‘’ 

‘’ No.. I just had an amazing teacher.. ‘’ Asher chuckled as he wrapped his hands around their waist. Pulling them in for a much more passionate kiss. 

‘’ Now let's eat this pizza before it gets cold.. ‘’ The beta smiled pressing one more kiss to their lips

~~~~~~~

AN - this is my apology to my fellow Asher fans for that last fic- but I love this one. it's cute and gives the vibe of a love song. Honestly, Asher and Baaabe are just adorable. I think I'll write for them more.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

had this in my head and then saw this post by @babyboyargyle so i took it as a sign to write it out! it's not perfect but it was fun (*^▽^*)

Say what you want to about monsters and killers and the apocalypse but at least this time they've got all-day access to pizza. Steve doesn't really know where this guy came from but damn, he makes a great margherita.

"Guys, this is Argyle," Jonathan introduces, waving towards a man with very, very long hair, holy shit.

Steve takes a second from hammering nails into the fifth bat that he's been tossed to give the guy a nod. He nods back, eyes flitting between the bat in Steve's hands to the bandages wrapped around his waist. But Steve's used to everyone keeping an eye on his wounds, from his stomach to his back to his arms to his head. He's a magnet for damage, that's just how it is.

"Hey man," Steve greets with a wave and gets back to hammering. "Welcome to the shitshow."

"Y-yeah," Argyle swallows with another nod. "Glad to be here."

At first, he seemed like a great addition. Argyle's funny, chill in a way that Steve hasn't experienced since '83, maybe even before that. Despite all the monsters lurking and the crackling in the air, dude kept his cool and got to work on food supplies and even teaching everyone how to do tracking shit like something out of a nature show.

But then, on their way back to the base (also known as Steve's fucking house), Jonathan's team is almost swarmed by demodogs and Steve and Robin have to run out to give 'em hell.

Ha, giving hell to the hellbeasts. Is that irony? Dustin would call it irony, Steve thinks.

After a little carnage and some (very therapeutic, according to Robin) violence, they manage to annihilate the 'dogs and get Will to throw their tracks off so they have their safe zone for a bit longer at least, but Argyle is quiet and frantic-eyed the entire walk home. It unsettles Steve, all that antsy energy building up under the surface.

Once safely inside, Jonathan and Nancy start on organizing the new supplies. It's when Jonathan manages to drop a water bottle that all that tension finally bursts.

"Shit, oh man, shit, shit, oh my god!" Argyle's pacing back and forth, hands scrunching up into his scalp which, yikes, not a good look for that mane. "This is so messed up, this is crazy, this is so messed up!"

Jonathan steps forward with a, "Argyle, Argyle, listen -"

"No, no, no, last time I listened to you, there was an open grave in front of me and now there's like fifty thousand demons out there! The world is fucking crazy right now, man, I am freaking out! I am -"

Okay, damage control time.

"Hey, hey, hey -" Steve shifts himself into Argyle's line of sight, holding his hands up and letting out a low whistle. "Dude, take a breath, alright?"

Which is apparently all the guy needs to latch his hands onto Steve's shoulders very, very tightly, holy shit, this guy's grip. "How am I supposed to breathe when -"

"Look at me, in-and-out, alright?" Steve exaggerates his own breathing, letting Argyle take his time in copying the motions. "In, out, in, out, you're doing good. It's pretty scary out here, huh?"

Argyle's grip on his shoulders tenses but Steve quickly grabs onto his wrists, gives them a short squeeze, and suddenly all that tension deflates. Which means physical contact is a go for reassurance, nice. "Yeah."

"I get it, man, I do. First time I got into this shit? I was ready to hightail it outta there and never look back, y'know?" He looks up from under his lashes, giving the guy what he hopes is a comforting smile. Judging by the hitch in his breath, it's not as comforting as Steve hopes. "But I get the feeling you're a ride-or-die type, right?"

Argyle shrugs, eyes fixated on Steve like he's the last hope he's got. No pressure.

"Look, I can't like - I can't guarantee much, wouldn't wanna jinx anything, but we're going to handle this, alright?" Damn, his hands are really warm. Is it because he's stressed? Even Steve doesn't run this warm when he's stressed, dude must be keeping a lot of anxiety under all that...weed? California weed? Whatever, focus, Steve. "It's not our first or second, not even third rodeo with this shit, we can absolutely handle it."

"You can handle it," Argyle says in what Steve thinks might be...petulant? Oh, that's fun, this guy is totally going to be fun to have around for the long haul. "Man, I don't even know what the hell is going on anywhere anymore."

Steve laughs, rubbing circles into Argyle's skin with his thumb. He's definitely wired up but that tight spark of panic in his eye is getting dimmer, so the contact might actually be working here. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think any of us know what's happening."

"How -"

"That's the thing, we don't need all the answers right now," Steve pats his wrist and tries a different kind of smile this time which, judging by the way Argyle's gulping and kind of just staring at him, might be working? Okay, fifty-fifty on that. "Just need to figure it out one step at a time."

"I don't - I'm kinda freaking out here, dude," Argyle confesses, like it wasn't kinda obvious for everyone in the room, as he lets go of Steve's shoulders (fuck, his grip is killer, there's definitely gonna be marks tomorrow) and lets his hands hang by his waist in a really sad way. Steve nods, patting his shoulder and gently leading him to the closest chair he can find (of course it's the sofa Mike left his socks on, god damn it Wheeler). "I'm not cut out for this freaky stuff, man, what if - what if we don't make it -"

"Hey," Steve says sharply, immediately regretting it when Argyle flinches at his tone. Take a breath, relax, the guy's worried, that's all. Steve softens his voice, and rubs a hand down his back when he buries his face in his hands. Huh, that's a quality shirt. "Hey, I get it. Believe me, I know how overwhelming this all is when you've got like, zero clue how it all happened. But I got your back here, dude, I'll watch your six."

And woah. Argyle snaps his face back to Steve, eyes wide and mouth just slightly agape. "You what?"

"'S kinda my job," Steve shrugs, continuing to rub his back so he can figure out why this material feels so familiar, what the hell.  "I'm the babysitter," - ignore Mike's affronted scoff, stay focused - "I keep track with the whole newbie thing most of the time. I mean like, we all got your back but y'know - like -  I'll personally make sure nothing happens to you, if that helps?"

Argyle stares at him for a few seconds, making it really hard not to squirm in the silence. Steve settles for scratching at his nose, finally taking his hand off that damned shirt, the fuck kind of brand is it?! Not important, focus, focus.

"Uh, sorry if that - I didn't mean to come on too strong or anything -"

"Holy shit, dude," Argyle breathes out, one of his (very warm) hands coming down to grip Steve's knee. "You're like, a godsend."

"Oh, uh, thank you?" Steve blinks when Argyle beams at him and pats his knee. Huh, maybe he's getting better at this comforting stuff. "Are - you good now?"

"Hell yes, my friend, I have a killer beast 'watching my six', don't I?" Argyle winks and shit, Steve's wounds must be inflaming again, his skin feels hot. "Now who's ready for some pie!"

Steve watches as he swoops up, practically glowing with such a positive energy it's kind of giving him whiplash. He stares as Argyle makes his way to the kitchen, snatching another glance back at Steve and giving him a wide grin, another wink and a salute before he disappears.

"What just happened?" Steve blinks again.

Jonathan pats his shoulder in sympathy which, uh, why? "You've just been Argyle'd."

"What does that even mean?" Steve splutters because what the hell is even happening. "And what did he mean by an open grave?"

"It's a long story," Jonathan sighs and gives him another pat. "Tell you once you help me sort out the water supply."

"The supply that you were supposed to figure out before you left, that water supply?"

"Fuck you," Jonathan grins and Steve shakes off the buzzing heat under his skin.

Everything's fine, all is cool. Just gotta keep an extra eye on Argyle.

Easy-peasy. Fuck, please be easy-peasy.

[eldritch-spouse]

NO I GOTTA KNOW WHAT THE ICONS DO WITH THE PENIS TERROR. I NEED IT (Dunno what about Vorti but I'm sure you'll find a way)

[I hate this so much. *wheezing*]

PENIS PANIC PART 2 - Eletric Boogaloo

TW: Noncon

Rinx just holds your limp form in his hands. What happened? He's clean, he's healthy, what did you see that was so frightening? Are you just not used to the color or were your previous partners really that small? You poor thing, he feels bad for you, you deserve an endowed partner like him. It's quite funny you didn't pass out when he fingered you, considering the size of his digits...

Kalymir laughs so hard he nearly busts a rib. No seriously, he might laugh himself into an early grave. He knows he's mighty in every sense of the word, but you're such a little pussy. Afraid he'll flare the spikes on his knot? HAH. Maybe he won't tell you he can retract them, just to see you squirm like a worm on a hook. What are you going to do next time, faint again? He'll die of laughter, you'll never be allowed to forget those moments.

Vesper honestly gets it. You're not the first one to faint, unfortunately. In his younger years, he was a little too eager to flaunt his package, and some of his partners just weren't ready. It hasn't happened in a while though. Still flatters him though. Much like Santi, he'll first pull the trick where you're not allowed to see any of his cocks, then he'll introduce you to the tendril, which is the least imposing of the bunch. You can work your way up to the big boys, right?

Zizz almost wonders if he got overexcited and his influence made you fall asleep. Doesn't seem to be the case. Well, he is the second largest Icon of Hell, so he kind of understands the fear... If you had stayed awake, Zizz could have happily explained that looks can be deceiving. Nevertheless, sleep never stopped the Icon of Sloth from enjoying a lover, so you're getting fondled and humped at regardless.

Livius deflates. Yeah okay, he gets the shape might be a little different from what you're used to as a human but... Come on, that's- That's no way to react! He doesn't even know how to feel now. Was that bad?? Was that good???? If only he had a stupid, simple, dumb human cock- What type of dicks are you into? Where's your phone? There's probably some type of lead there, he needs to FIX THIS right now.

Cero doesn't really know if he should feel flattered or insulted at first. After all, he's definitely perfect for you, maybe it was all the excitement in your little head, hm? You know you'll never have better than him, you know he's going to blow your mind when he fucks you, and that was just too much, wasn't it? Ha! Oh, what a rush- Better wake up inamorata, he can't wait much longer after you teased him like that.

Vorticia puts you back on the bed, goes outside to have a smoke, and thinks about what in the ever living fuck that was supposed to mean back there.

[pricegouge]

That drabble was GREAT I'm imagining bear!bunny huffily leaving a review later on Yelp like "0/5 got a fish thrown at me didn't even let me stay to watch the game before they called animal control and my team lost. But the chicken is really good" and Price reading it and having to sit down because. The fucking bear knows how to type?

Oh my god keyboard karen bunny… 

Takes place directly after this. I used google reviews instead of yelp just cause I have more experience with it 

"Soap, what the hell is this?"

The man looks over lazily from where he's pithing lemon, but straightens up when he sees John's genuinely pissed off face. "What's what, sir?"

John slides his open phone to the man across the bar, recent zero star review on full display. "Very funny but you're fucking with my average. Take it down."

Soap frowns down at the phone, reading over the angry lines of text with a scowl that only deepens with every word. "Ah dinnae write this!"

"Then who did?" 

"Fockin' -," he glances back at the phone, scrolls up until he sees the reviewer's name, "Mama-bear-four-oh-six." John just glares at him, unimpressed. Soap huffs, waves the phone back at his boss. "Cap, ah clearly dinnae write this. None of this is in Scots."

"Shite," John deflates. He takes his phone back with a pat to the other man's shoulder. "You're right, sorry mate. But if you didn't, who did?"

"Si?" Soap sounds just as unconvinced about it as John is. "I dinnae ken. Did ye check the account?"

Of course he did. MamaBear406 was a brand new account as far as he could tell; as close to anonymous as Google allowed. One of the main reasons he'd assumed someone was taking the piss. Well, that and because aside from the three of them, the only creature present for the fish incident had been the bear itself. Herself?

"Must've been Simon," John hedges, just in time for the man in question to come easing through the saloon doors, quiet as a mouse save for the way he read allowed from his phone.

"'Zero out of five stars. A real shame about the service. With its beautiful open store front and kitchen I swear I could smell a mile away, I thought I'd found the perfect new watering 'ole. Boy was I wrong. They threw a fish at me! Didn't even let me stay until the end of the second period before calling authorities on me. So rude. Chicken was good.'" Simon eyes them from under his heavy brow. "Cap, you know what this means?"

"My ratings are now arse?"

"Our Johnny's learned to spell."

"Ye fockin' -!"

"Alright," John cut Soap off sternly. "Was it you, Si?"

"Please." The big man lumbers closer, tabling his phone as he leans across the bar to join their huddle. "If I wanted to ruin your reputation, I'd just stop coming to work."

John sighs, bewildered about their predicament, but believing his mate all the same. Soap, then. Meddling bastard. He hangs his head, catching a glimpse of Simon's phone in the process. "Oh look, we've got a defender." 

Soap leans past Simon's shoulder to read the comment below the review asking MamaBear what she did to deserve such treatment. "Ah know him. Regular. Ah'll 'spill' his first round next time he comes in."

"Good lad," John agrees. At a loss, he pulls his own phone back to himself and taps MamaBear's icon again, hoping to glean something new -.

And frowns in shock when he sees a new comment posted, thirty seconds ago.

"'Was just trying to watch the game!'" he recites.

The other men frown in confusion at him and John simply reaches over, refreshing Simon's page to display MamaBear's responding comment under the other one. Even Simon looks confused, eyes darting to Soap suspiciously. 

"How'd you do that?" he demands, and Soap starts whinging about never being believed or something, but John's not listening. Too busy coming to terms with the fact that he may be the kind of man who's willing to believe a bloody bear wrote a Google review.

next>>

[banjjakz]

notes: major character death; gojo satoru is not a good person (we know this); direct continuation of geto suguru's route; if you have not completed the good end may you rest in pieces.

➡ Sneak out of the fire escape.

The thought of trying to navigate your way even further through the deep, dark bowels of this strange place fills you with a fearful repulsion – and not the good kind. While you got off quite lucky with such a faithful encounter with Geto, you shouldn’t get cocky. After all, the security guard from earlier could still be lurking around…imagine if he caught you in such a state of obvious erotic disarray: hair mussed, knees scraped and bruised, face flushed, lipstick smudged…you can’t imagine that would go over well.

Steeling your nerves to do something truly unhinged, you begin to search for the fire escape.

At least you aren’t jumping out of the window, or something insane like that – albeit, sneaking out of the fire escape is a little out there, even for you.

But you no longer inhabit the normal and upright world. It is almost as though you are now floating through reality, your soul wandering through life in an ambiguously disparate state, hopping from absurd situation to absurd situation, motivated by little more than the capricious nature of your arbitrary whims.

It's not like you have much left to lose, after all. The most important thing to you – perhaps the only important thing to you – in your life is ShinShow. And you’ve just achieved the highest goal of any dedicated fan: ultimate recognition.

The eventful evening’s erotic high and the delusional adrenaline coursing through your veins gives you the courage not only to locate the fire escape, but also to slip through the dingy, rusting door and shimmy down the rickety, narrow steps. Even by Japanese standards, the contraption is quite small. Several times, you almost lose your footing and go tumbling down over the railing. Instead of instilling you with healthy fear, the near-accidents only serve to propel you forward with renewed vigor each time you brush closer and closer to impending mortal injury.

As soon as your chunky platforms hit the worn concrete, now back on solid, stable ground, you find it difficult not to deflate a little bit. What a night! What an experience! And you have Geto Suguru’s personal LINE ID to show for all of it…how are you supposed to return to your ordinary, mundane life after such an experience?

The thought depresses you. Work, school, family, friends…it all pales in comparison to the evening you and Geto shared together. Oh, if only every night could be that way!

But that would be selfish of you. Geto is a leader, after all; an inspiration to many, and an idol to all. To usurp him for your personal pleasure and only yours alone would be doing a disservice to his life’s work. You recognize that you must share Geto-sama, as much as it might pain you to do so.

“I don’t wanna share him,” you mumble to yourself, aimlessly launching the decrepit corpse of a crumpled beer can across the alley with a limp, half-hearted kick. “Geto-sama should be all mine…”

In the desolate boughs of this seedy in-between limbo sandwiched between towering buildings of various questionable services and wares, your pathetic utterances should be private, unheard by only your own self-pitying ears.

Operative word: should.

“Haha. That’s a funny joke!”

Your heart drops faster than you can turn around. By the time your body processes the shock at not being alone (seriously, when the hell did someone else get here? You’ve been loitering for several minutes, at this point!) the owner of the unfamiliar voice is already entirely too close for comfort. One moment, the snarky quip bounced off of the aged reinforcements of a residential building several paces away – but now, as you pivot on your heel to confront the stranger, your nose is but a hair’s breadth away from painfully colliding with a wide, solid chest clad in nondescript black cloth.

When you finally glimpse his face, the first thing that comes to your mind is that he’s definitely a douchebag. If the bleached platinum faded undercut weren’t bad enough, this asshole is wearing sunglasses at night. His over-six-foot stature is worn with a sort of self-reverential pride; he carries himself like he knows he’s probably the hottest guy in any room at any given point in time.

How annoying.

This is why, outside of ShinShow, you don’t really care to interact with the male species. They’re all cocky, self-assured, greedy, immature, uncaring, inconsiderate morons! Nothing like your hard-working and self-made idols…ugh.

Just being around this dude makes your skin crawl. Not in the sexy way.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, cutting him a sharp glare with wide, whaling eyes as if to actually convey the more sincere message you hold for him within your heart: get the fuck lost, creep.

But when you go to rush past him, his body moves – again with that mind-numbing, preternatural speed – and you run straight into his annoying firm and solid abs.

Oh God, is this it? Is this really how you are meant to depart from this world? You would’ve preferred to be sent to hell by Geto’s hand over anyone else’s…

Despondent and kind of over it, you direct a firm stare upwards at this asshole’s infuriatingly unbothered smirk. “What’s your problem?”

“You,” says the stranger, simply, distracting you with his blindly white smile so that it is far, far too late by the time you realize that both your wrists are now incapacitated by one of his large, strong hands. “Don’t struggle. It won’t make a difference. Or do! It would actually be kinda funny to watch.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You demand, instinctively jerking away and finding his grip to be even more iron-solid that it had initially seemed – if that was even possible. “Let me go!!”

When you go to kick him, you find that your perception of reality shatters apart like glass skittering across kitchen tile in a million, tiny, irreparably disparate fractured pieces.

Your foot cannot connect with his body.

The more force you put behind your futile defense against your assailant, the more frustrated and exhausted you become. How can this even be possible? It’s like there’s an invisible paper-thin shield dividing you and him – and yet, despite the thinness of the protective layer, the intimate proximity of your limb and his infuriatingly chiseled torso, there is an endless ocean of space that separates you. No matter how hard you try, you cannot touch him.

You cannot win.

How this is even possible, you haven’t the faintest idea. Some sort of illusion? An advanced kind of electromagnetic technology?

Horror dawns upon you like a red sun on the horizon: there’s no way you can escape this.

The stranger is a seasoned and well-trained predator, that much is for sure. He senses the fight leaking out of your body as a shark might follow the intoxicating scent of blood in the water. He pursues your misery with a keen appetite, one that threatens to devour you whole.

“You’re almost cute,” breaths the strange white-haired man, crowding you up against the brick wall with little more than the oppressive force of his presence. “I can see why he thought you’d be easy.”

A stab of familiarity pierces clear and true through your thundering innards. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about… “Do you know Geto-sama?”

The bastard has the audacity to laugh in your face. His breath is annoyingly minty fresh.

“Oh, wow. You actually call him that? I thought it was just an inside joke between him and the fans, or something. Hah! That’s really good. That’s just too good…” He, honest-to-God, wipes a tear from his eye, underneath his sunglasses.

Even the precarity of your dangerous situation is not enough to cow the bullish indignancy that flushes through you, hot and temperamental, at the suggestion of a perceived slight against your (new?) oshi.

“Hey,” you grunt, chin checking up towards the sky, “you shouldn’t talk that way about Geto-sama. He’s really hard working, and such a good leader…the best there ever was or could be.”

“The best,” mulls the stranger, one large hand descending to stroke his jaw. You can’t tell if the gesture is more a mockery than it is a genuine display of sincere pensive contemplation.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

And then he leans down, easy and natural as breathing, as blinking, lips coming to ghost along the crest of your quivering, hypersensitive ears:

“I already know that.”

With viper-like speed, his fist shoots up to close around your throat. “You don’t think I know that?” You’d sputter out a response if you could breathe. Or think.  “Sweetheart, I’ve been here before that statement could even be said to be true. You could say we’re high school sweethearts. My one and only, he is.”  

Oh, fuck.

Oh, God, oh, fuck.

Did you just mess with an OG fan?

Crap, this is bad. This is really, really bad. Never did you think you’d fall victim to the string of violent, sometimes deadly assaults that ravaged the streets of Kabukichou. But pissing off a dedicated wota by getting caught fucking around with their ultimate oshi is one of the fastest ways to find out!

S-sorry, you try to mouth as your weak, floundering hands doing nothing to persuade his grip into loosening, even just the tiniest bit. Didn’t know!!

“Don’t care~,” sing-songs the stranger, strangely cheerful given the circumstances. He’s not normal. It hits you quite belatedly. Even for a superfan, he isn’t normal. “No one told you to go around playing with other people’s toys~”

You don’t stand a chance. This is the end.

His next retort slips out as a simpering purr: “Good girl. You’ve accepted your fate.”

Can he read your mind, or something? This is seriously a scene out of some horror movie…

“For that, I’ll spare you. Quick and painless death it is! Simply deleted from existence. All your icky atoms and particles will end up somewhere in Timbuktu, probably. Hopefully. How does that sound? For a masochist like you, that’s almost a worse fate, I suppose.”

Huh?

“Huh?”

“Bye-bye~”

The last glimpse your poor, foolish mortal eyes catch of this cruel world are the slight peek of his startlingly blue over the rim of those opaque, black sunglasses. As you lose consciousness, in the split second before your existence is entirely wiped out from this chapter of reality, your vision blurs, doubling, then tripling, his bright, cerulean eyes appearing to you not as two, but six. They are everywhere, all-seeing, surrounding you, bearing down as the heavens might itself upon the woeful frame of a mortal slated for smiting. Soon enough, the six double, then triple, then multiply so fast that all you can see are rows and rows and rows of wide, unblinking, omniscient eyes. Staring. Judging. Tracking.

Why does it feel familiar, this sight?

[MAY YOU REST IN PEACE.]

ENDING ACHIEVED: GETO SUGURU BAD END 2

SECRET ROUTE UNLOCKED: RYOMEN SUKUNA.

> PROCEED TO ROUTE [coming soon!]

[cupiidzbow]

Ok no one move . here’s an excerpt of a thing I’m writing. augh (<- poison damage)

Dixie quirked her brow at the response, thoughts swirling through her head for a quick moment before tugging at the side of his skirt to get his attention. “Wait….wait….. Hang on a second.”

Freddie stopped dead in his tracks, turning his head to look down at his friend, his forehead wrinkling in confusion at her sudden pause. “Huh?”

“Funky asked you to go watch the shower with him…. together?”

“…Yeah?”

Diddy popped his head at Fred’s opposite side. “Just, you and him…. alone?”

He turned his head in his direction, “Wh- Yeah?? I think?”

The two Kongs shared a look between themselves, seemingly having the same idea in their minds. Freddie snapped his head frantically between the two of them, bewildered, and still blissfully unaware of the implications. “Why are you- am I missing something??”

Diddy snickered as he patted his elbow in a congratulatory manner, “Hee hee!! Well look at that! He finally asked you out!!!”

Freddie bristled, eyes widening and nearly dropping all the corked bottles of banana juice in his arms. “WHAT?”

No that couldn’t- he didn’t- there’s no way that was even-

…..Finally?

There’s no way Funky felt that way about him…. right?

Hell, he spent so long pushing the feelings about him down because he convinced himself there was no way for him to even THINK of him that way. He already came to terms that finding love was probably not going to happen as long as he stayed in this kingdom. He’s just a human, not sturdy and resourceful as most Kongs were. Just fragile and vulnerable, most of the wildlife could gobble him up in one bite, a coconut could literally fall from a tree and kill him in one hit if he wasn’t careful.

He was fully convinced that no one would spare even him a passing glance, so of course he found it hard to believe that the friend he’s grown so close to could ever feel such things for him.

He deflated at the thought of that.

“That’s not funny.” Freddie pouted, moving his eyes downcast, continuing his slow trek up the hill. “He was probably just being nice to me.”

The two watched as he walked away from them, briskly picking up their own pace following after him.

“Hey, It’s not a joke!” Diddy corrected frantically, waving hands in front of him reassuringly to insist he wasn’t messing with him. “He really does like you, honest!!”

Dixie wasn’t far behind him, “Yeah!! I mean have you seen the way he looks at you when we all hang out together? He always asks about you when you’re not with us!!”

Freddie, frustrated, turned back quickly at the two, “Then how come I’ve never noticed!” He frowned, “I’m sure I would’ve seen it if he actually did that!!”

Dixie couldn’t help but stop and roll her eyes at the huffy response. “Fred…. be serious. You’re as dense as a brick wall.”

“Wh- Hey!!”

“Please, don’t tell me you haven't noticed the little nicknames he calls you.”

The mere mention of that made Freddie bite back a response. The sudden memory of casually bumping into him out of work. Surfboard tucked under his arm and the gentle exclamation of ‘Hey, Sweetheart!’ gracing his lips in a smile as he locked eyes with him. He swore he could still feel the aching feeling in his chest he felt that very day, the silent and starving yearning for him to call him that again.

But…… he did that for everyone…… right?

Right….?

……… Oh god…. maybe Funky did ask him out.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 18 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: This one, admittedly, goes really well with the next chapter as well haha—both being holiday themed, of course. As always, I hope that you enjoy and that you let me know what you think :)

Early December, 1943

Ruth had always found snow to be one of the most beautiful things that God had gifted the world.  There was something really peaceful about the way that snow fell from the skies and blanketed the earth that was so marred and marked up by mankind.  And given the fact that there was a war on, Ruth particularly didn’t mind the snow this December.  

“You know, you have a jeep,” Jack Kidd’s voice sounded in her ears. 

Giving a half-glance towards the barely visible path, she found Jack Kidd pulled up alongside her in his own jeep.  Ruth was currently walking in the snow back towards the main buildings of Thorpe Abbotts—and she was perfectly aware of the fact that she had a jeep and of the fact that it was snowing. 

She was no fool. 

“Yes, I know,” Ruth retorted, giving a huff as a curl of hair fell in front of her face.  “I happen to like the snow.” 

Kidd just stared at her for a long minute, shaking his head.  “Fine, but I’m not playing nurse when you go catching pneumonia.” 

“Oh Jack,” Ruth replied in amusement.  “I’ll just have Rosie play nurse.” 

A grin spread across Kidd’s features.  Although he wasn’t entirely sure on the details and how the hell Ruth and Rosie had ended up together, he didn’t altogether mind seeing the normally tense and overbearing friend of his relaxed—at least to some degree. 

“Funny.  I bet the Brass will love that.” 

“You know me, I live to please the Brass.  I’ll see you there in a few minutes,” Ruth reassured Kidd. 

He just snorted.  “Yeah, whatever you say.” With that, the man had peeled off down towards the main office.  

Ruth’s shoulders deflated the minute that he had gone and for a moment, she just lingered in the snow.  It was much quieter out here, especially now that the snow had arrived.  She’d much rather be on her own than having to put up with dozens of soldiers who acted like a bunch of 12 year-old boys.  

There was also the fact that the snow reminded her of home.  Considering the fact that the Sharpe family had never actually owned a car, Ruth had always walked everywhere.  She walked to school her entire life, she walked to work, she walked everywhere she went.  And if she ever needed to go somewhere further—well, there was a reason why cabs existed, wasn’t there? 

Truth be told, she needed the time away from everything to try and focus and clear her head.  She had a lot on her plate and a lot on her mind.  And given the fact that there was the upcoming holiday season that she most certainly had to do something with—only because Abe was here and by that extension, she was going to have to do something for Rosie as well. 

Gosh, when did her life become so complicated? 

She had to admit, regardless of whether she and Robby were fake-dating to keep suspicion off of Abe, she likely would have done something nice for him for Hanukkah.  The truth of the matter was that Robby was a small slice of home in Europe and she wasn’t all that mean truly. 

But what to actually get Robby and Abe was an entirely different story.  It wasn’t as if they were being given time off to really celebrate—and given the fact that they were Jewish, life was complicated enough here in Europe anyway. The less attention they attracted, the better things would be for them. 

Ruth struck the thoughts from her mind as she entered the mess hall, nearly entirely bumping into Ken Lemmons.  “Curls!” Lemmons exclaimed, a grin crossing his features.  “You’re all covered in snow!” He gestured at the flakes that were caught in her hair and she just gave a grin. 

“Staying warm while trying to work on the planes?” Ruth questioned, slipping her gloves off of her fingers.  

“Trying to at least, ma’am,” Lemmons said.  “We’re just on our way to check the fuel tanks since they’re doing a training again tomorrow.” 

Ruth couldn’t help but lean forward and just adjust the young man’s hat.  He wasn’t all that much older than Abe, after all.  And he just seemed so young in moments like these. “There.  Now your ears won’t freeze,” she insisted. 

Lemmons’ cheeks burned at the gesture.  “Well thanks.  I guess I should warn ya, your brother’s in there and causin’ quite a commotion with a game of craps.” 

“Oh I’m not even surprised,” Ruth stated dryly.  “Thank you for the warning.” 

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

Given the fact that in a week, everyone was going to have weekend passes to London, Colonel Harding had decided to hold a holiday dance and party before everyone took off for a week.  It was going to be the first time in a long time that a whole group of the Airborne would have a break and Ruth was actually fully intent on using her pass. 

After all, a trip to London might be good for her.  And maybe if she was feeling up to it, she’d go to Aldbourne with the gifts she had purchased for the men of Easy Company.  It was just scarves, but given how the winter months were, she knew that they’d probably be wanting it.  Especially given the fact that they weren’t sure where they’d be a year from then or if the war would still be on. 

Despite the fact that she and Winters had broken up, she remained good pen pals with him and his best friend, Lewis Nixon. Nixon was actually better at writing her than he was at writing his own wife, which spoke volumes about the amount of trust that the two of them had for one another. 

Ruth had better things to do than go to a party, but she had been needled into it by Tatty and Helen.  The amount of red and green dresses she had seen in the last few days had to be a record-breaking number.  

“So are you a Scrooge or do you enjoy the holiday?” Helen questioned, leaning into her gloved hands and looking at Ruth. 

In the process of pinning her earrings in place, Ruth just glanced in the mirror at Helen.  “I happen to love the holiday, though Christmas is not what I celebrate.” 

“You never told us that,” Tatty said, adjusting the straps of her shoes.  

“It doesn’t come up casually,” Ruth replied with a shrug.  “But I’ve attended plenty of holiday and Christmas parties during my time in High School and Law School.  Worry not, I shan’t be ruining the Christian’s holiday.” 

“Well I hope not,” Tatty said with a pointed look.  “Christmas is the best time of the year.” 

“Speaking of which—” Helen clapped her hands together.  “Don’t you need to get your boyfriend a gift?” 

The relaxed expression on Ruth’s face quickly soured at the thought.  “And pray tell what am I supposed to get him?” 

“I don’t know,” Helen said with a shrug.  “You could always bake him something.” 

A wonderfully awful idea began to hatch in Ruth’s brain and she just gave a smug smile.  “Then that’s what I shall do.  I do enjoy baking, every now and then.” 

“Why do I feel like that sounded much more malicious than Helen intended?” Tatty let out a sigh. 

“Probably because it is,” Ruth grinned.  

Before either Helen or Tatty could reply to that particular mischievous response, there was a knock at the Red Cross Cabin’s door.  “I’ll be anything that’s your date,” Helen wiggled her eyebrows in Ruth’s direction. 

Oh Heaven help us all—this is so stupid.  To her credit, Ruth just forced a smile onto her face, practically plastering it on.  She made her way over to the door and flung it open, finding Robby Rosenthal standing there looking less than enthused about the night’s upcoming events.  And for a moment, he just stood there speechless at the green dress that Ruth was wearing and she couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Wow, there actually is a woman under all of those pantsuits,” Robby found his footing and Ruth scowled at him. 

“And here I thought there was a gentleman under your tons of hair gel but I was wrong,” Ruth retorted, taking his arm with a slight begrudging expression.  

“Same rules as the prom?” 

“Same rules as the prom.” 

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

The holiday swing music should have made Ruth want to relax and just actually enjoy the party.  But watching Rosenthal dance was enough to sour any appetite of hers—and God, he just danced so much.  Maybe he had taken the Torah stories a little too far when he read about dance being a tribute to God. 

“You know,” Abe poked at Ruth’s arm in her chair.  “You could just go and dance with him.” 

“I’d sooner fling myself off of the Empire State Building, thank you.” 

“So dramatic, Ruthie.  What’s one dance gonna hurt?” 

“He could step on my toes.” 

Abe just looked baffled at the statement.  “Him?  Robby?  No way!  He knows how to dance!  If anyone should be worried, it’s him!  You’re the dangerous one.” 

“In that case,” Ruth rose to her feet.  “I suppose it would be a shame not to dance with him.” 

“Ruth, wait, I didn’t mean to intentionally step—” 

But it was too late and she was already marching up towards Robby—who was currently taking a break and sipping on some egg-nog at the bar. Without missing a beat, she tapped him on the shoulder.  “I’m cashing in that one dance of the night.” 

He choked on his egg-nog, nearly spluttering as he turned to face her.  Ruth seemed abnormally pleased with herself and grinning far too wide for his likes.  The last time this had happened, he had gotten a bloody nose at the science fair.  “You’re uh—you’re not tryin’ to kill me yet, right?” 

“Not yet,” Ruth promised, raising a brow.  “What?  Are you too scared to dance?” 

“No!” Robby gave a huff.  “God, woman, you’re aggravating.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

With that, the two of them whisked away onto the dance floor.  And all Abe Sharpe could do was watch the two of them dance together.  And he knew that their closeness on the dance floor was probably so no one could hear the light jabs and insults they were throwing at the other person.  

But he couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his features.  It was all going according to plan now.  

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

i'm not here 'cause you say so (my, oh my)

(Friday Night Funkin')

Words: 637

Summary:

Get your ass up 'cause I won't (I won't)

I must've missed the hype

But maybe that's the way I feel (that's the way I feel)

—“I Won’t” by AJR

In which Psychic has taken the fall, Dearest is disappointed, Boyfriend wants answers, and no one benefits from this family’s communication methods.

@/daily-acvoid once said "Psychic's tragedy is comedy to BF and vice versa" and I still think about that sometimes lol

Psyfic taglist: @y010isaghost, @s0methingmoonlit, @flurriethefox, @hoodiehydra

Let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from the taglist!

----------

Heaving a deep sigh, his master's cold words still echoing in his mind, digging at his core, Psychic took a seat on the front steps of the mansion, next to the jasmine he'd planted so many years before. He put his head in his hands, waited for the disappointment and shame and frustration in his chest to simmer down.

It didn't work. Sensing a horribly familiar presence in front of him even after several minutes, Psychic glared up at Boyfriend’s grinning face. "Why are you still here."

Did the little blue imp get some sick entertainment out of watching him suffer? Was every tragedy Psychic endured somehow comedy to him?

"Does this mean we're friends now?"

Was he serious? Psychic fought back the anger bubbling up inside him. It would be so easy to permanently wipe that smirk off the kid’s face…

Unfortunately, he had stopped being that kind of person decades ago. "No."

Boyfriend slumped ever so slightly, a small triumph Psychic readily accepted after all that'd happened today. "But you finally think I'm worthy of her?"

"No." Not that Psychic was going to do anything about that.

"You like me more than Dearest?"

"Hell no."

"You like me?"

"No." Boyfriend's progressive deflation was admittedly funny to watch. "Don't count on that ever happening." And don't count on me to save you like this ever again, Psychic might have added if he didn’t know it was an empty promise.

"So why'd you take the fall?" Boyfriend demanded, pulling his blue hoodie tighter around himself against the chilly evening air. A full moon shone above, just like the first night Psychic had spent on Earth with Dearest.

It seemed to mock him. Time, a flat circle. Disappointment, inevitable.

"I didn't do it for you." Psychic narrowed his eyes.

"I get that, Afton. Why'd you do it anyway?"

Psychic had better things to do. He had no obligation to waste time on this...this disrespectful little...

Usurper, a tiny, scornful, jealous voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Psychic couldn't remember the last time his master had expressed any sort of disapproval towards him. Any disappointment. Being reprimanded had been rare enough even at its most frequent, and had only disappeared over time as Psychic softened up and became more eager to please. More eager for approval.

He hadn't intended to throw all Dearest's pride in him out the window tonight. It had just…happened. Psychic found himself doing things like this more and more often, as time passed and Boyfriend became increasingly comfortable shoving himself into the family where he didn’t belong.

It wasn’t entirely a choice, when Boyfriend was the only reason Girlfriend looked so much happier now.

Psychic had adamantly refused to get involved, when his master first came to him to get rid of the boy. If Girlfriend’s relationship with her father was ultimately going to crumble, Psychic didn’t want to be the reason it did.

How much did his actions tonight — defending Boyfriend, taking his side — reflect that? What did it look like to Dearest, who was supposed to be able to rely on him unconditionally? What counted as crossing the line? Was he willing to risk it? Did he care?

Psychic didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Hey.” Psychic snapped back to the present. A gentle breeze nipped at him, tugging at his jacket. What blue remained in the sky was quickly fading to black. Boyfriend was waving a hand in front of his face. “Psychic? You awake, dude? I asked—”

Psychic swatted it away. “Don’t call me that,” he said sharply, rising to his feet and striding back up the stairs to the front door. “We are not friends. We will never be friends. I hope you’ll remember that.”

“You didn’t even answer my—”

Psychic locked the door behind him.