#the family functions & that shit is fucking Tiring. no more. Please

[rosesradio]

this is a topic i don’t talk about nearly enough because idk how to phrase it but. i think the chronically online people who are into exclusively into media like heartstopper (99% of everyone is accepting and 1% is cartoonishly evil) need to realize that people cannot just live their truth with the power of love or whatever. like yes i’m 21 i should be allowed date a girl if i wanted to (if i could pull one 😔), but i can’t while living at my family’s house in this economy etc. yes i don’t want to interact with stranger things content (for multiple reasons lol) but it’s a Family Show and I can’t explain the boycott to my conservative family. with all the jokes and bad takes i hear i’m exhausted as is. I don’t think it’s problematic to stay in the closet/keep your voice down if it means remaining in a mostly good situation for the time being.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

can you please write something angsty about dally helping out darry after discovering how stressed he is or maybe finding him crying

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long, but here it is. Gonna tag @chained-sweater and @johnnyburntcake because they both asked to be tagged when it was finished after reading my out of context snippet. As with most of my stuff this is unbetaed so sorry for any mistakes or typos

*******************

Dallas Winston needs a lot of things. His boots are held together with duct tape and about fourteen different layers of mud, his jeans are worn, torn, patched, and torn again, and his number of material possessions is probably something less than twenty- he never had much in the first place and he pawned just about everything he had when he ran from New York five years ago. But despite all the things he is lacking, all the things he’s never had and the things he could use, what he wants most right now is a fucking break.

Dammit but he didn’t think moving out to rodeo country would involve caring so much. His gang back in New York had been a proper gang- more organized and even crueler than Shepards outfit, a group of tough as nails dealers and muscle, who’d just as soon shoot a kid as they would give them a chance. Hell, he’d been scared of them back in the day, for all he’d been smarter than most of them, because that kind of casual violence only came from the joy of hurting something, not from necessity. Only an idiot wouldn’t be scared of those sorts of people. Here though, in sleepy little Tulsa Oklahoma his gang is…a drunk, a dropout, two high schoolers, one recent high school graduate, and tagalong middle school kid- and yet, Dally finds himself far more loyal and goddamn committed to the ragtag group of big hearted losers than he ever was to old Alfie and his ring of coke dealing miscreants. It’s maddening. It’s wonderful. It’s horrible. It’s tiring is what it is, and Dally needs a goddamn break. Who wouldn’t after the night he’d just had, which involved practically dragging a nearly hypothermic Johnny Cade out of the cold and trying to warm the kid up? And as if that hadn’t been bad enough, he’d then had the dubious honour of driving Ponyboy to school this morning. Something about the kid’s zombielike stare and hunched shoulders had left him thinking of how bright those eyes used to be, just three months ago, which led to him thinking of Mrs. Curtis’ stern demeanour but kind face, and it was all just too much. Dallas needs a break. He wasn’t meant for this sappy caring shit. He’s done his mourning- he doesn’t need to be knocked all off kilter because of two kids who think of themselves as gangsters but in reality are nothing more than battered kids, bruised in different ways. This is the problem, Dally has found, with gangs that are more family than function- they’re made of people instead of parts of a machine. You can’t care about someone who is replaceable- but no one in the Curtis gang is replaceable, not by a long shot. That wasn’t the case back in New York.

Whatever. He’s done thinking about this now. He’s going to go back to the Curtis house and watch shit tv and maybe steal some food if the kitchen doesn’t look too skint this week. He is not going to think about kids who aren’t his problem (and yet completely are because he’d joined this stupid excuse of a gang and made them his problem in the first place), and he is going to stop being so fucking soft. Geez. If Tim could hear his thoughts right about now he’d lose just about all his street cred. 

Of course, because he’s Dallas Winston, and life has never thrown him a fucking bone in all seventeen years of his life on earth, his hopes for a peaceful afternoon are dashed the second he steps through the door. 

Darrel Curtis- six foot two, two hundred pounds of pure muscle, cool headed Darrel Curtis- is parked at the worn kitchen table, head in his hands, a water bill and something Dally is reasonably sure is property tax forms sitting in front of him.

 And he’s crying.

Darry Curtis doesn’t cry. In all the time Dally has known him, he’s never seen the guy so much as sniffle- not even at the funeral three months ago when Darry buried both parents in one horrible day. Soda had broken down immediately, and Pony had stared wide eyed, rivers of silent tears pouring down his cheeks- but Darry hadn’t. He’s crying now though, and not just a little bit either, huge gut wrenching sobs tearing from his mouth and shit Dallas doesn’t really know what to do. What he wants to do is pretend he never saw this, pretend it never happened and leave, let Darry have his well earned breakdown in the solitude he clearly believed he had. Of course, he would have had to have the foresight not to slam open the screen door for that to even be a possibility.

Darry jumps at the noise, shoulders squaring immediately, letting out one last sob that he could easily explain away as a gasp of surprise as he regains his barings. 

“Oh,” He clears his throat, valiantly trying to pretend like his eyes are bloodshot and his stubble covered cheeks covered in tear trcks, “hey Dal. There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

In that second he sounds so much like his mother that it punches Dally in the chest a little bit. Something about the ocean of feelings quickly locked behind a kind word and a carefully controlled expression is so reminiscent of Mrs. Curtis that Dally almost finds himself nodding a yes and escaping into the kitchen. He can’t though, because as much as Darry acts like her, he will never be his godlike mother. Instead, he is his kind hearted self, a twenty year old with the custody of two kid brothers he couldn’t bear to be separated from, and all the pressures of adult life most people don’t even start having to worry about until they’ve had time to really live. Mrs.Curtis had taken care of all of them, even Dally when everyone else only ever looked at him as a lost cause. Darry can’t do that though, can barely look out for Soda and Pony. Anyone with eyes can see how he’s been struggling since the funeral, nevermind the way Soda’s endless energy has turned anxious and resentful, grades slipping, while Pony gets quieter and moodier, a thirteen year old ticking time bomb. 

“You stay outta trouble for me Dallas,” Mrs. Curtis said to him once, “I know you ain’t a good boy but you’re a loyal one and sometimes that’s more important. So don’t go gettin’ yourself locked up for a bit, savvy? My boys need you more than they know.” 

She hadn’t just been talking about Darry, Soda, and Pony. The whole gang was Mrs.Curtis’ boys and everyone knew it, but Dally had held those words close to his heart more times than he could count, a balm on his perpetually blackened soul. Mrs.Curtis had known the score, known that goodness wasn’t the same thing as love, and she’d loved him anyhow- unconditionally and more than his own sorry excuse of a mom ever had. She’d trusted him too, never babied him or tried to fix him the way every other adult was always trying to, just patched him up when he got into trouble, and scolded him for not being smarter. You wouldn’t have survived this long if you were stupid Dallas, so don’t go pullin’ a stunt like this again. C’mon and git some dinner now, there's casserole in the fridge.

It would break her heart to see Darry like this now, so small and defeated, two things her eldest son was never meant to be. But she isn’t here right now, never will be again.

But Dally is.

My boys need you more than they know.

Damn Mrs.Curtis and her all knowing ways, because she knew what she was doing when she took him in because now he’s stuck with this stupid gang in this stupid town forever because she made him love her and love them all too.

“What’s goin’ on Darry?”

“Nothing,” Darry lies, fingers twitching a bit to pull the papers closer to him.

“I ain’t Soda, you don’t gotta lie to me like that.”

Shame twists his handsome features and he looks down, fidgeting with his high school ring.

“I don’t got enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Money Dallas,” he snaps, “I don’t get my first paycheck from that new job until next week, and both these are due on Friday. I bought groceries yesterday, and paid the hydro on Monday, no matter what I’m short.”

There’s such fear in his eyes. Dally remembers what the social workers said when Darry got custody, how militant they’re going to be checking up on him. One missed bill could have Soda and Ponyboy taken away before any of them could cry ‘unfair’.

My boys need you more than they know.

Dally can’t let that happen. It would kill Darry, Soda might go full crazy and Ponyboy…the kid was already sensitive. He’d never make it in a boy’s home. 

“How much?”

“What?” Darry blinks at him and Dally rolls his eyes. Darry Curtis has never been stupid, so he doesn’t know why he’s acting stupid now. 

“How much money do you need?”

“Four fifty.”

Dally winced. That was more than he had on him right now, more than he could get from Two-bit and Steve if he asked on the down low. None of them ever had that kind of scratch just lying around- unless Steve’s dad had recently paid him to come back home, but the old man had booted Steve out two days ago and chucked a bottle at him yesterday when he went back to grab spare clothes so they probably weren’t back to playing happy family yet, and likely wouldn’t be for  while.

Still. There’s other ways to get money.

My boys need you more than you know.

“Leave it to me.” Dally promises.

“No.” Darry shoots him down immediately,  “It ain’t your responsibility Dallas-”

“It ain’t all yours either.”

“That’s exactly what it is!”

“Are we a gang or not?” Dally glares, “I know you Curtis boys are wicked at acceptin’ help but like it or not you need it right now! I ain’t watchin’ the state take Soda an’ Pony away because of your fucking pride Darry!”

Darry stares at him a moment, eyes hard before he sighs, shoulders drooping, suddenly looking the same type of bone deep exhausted that is becoming an all too familiar look on him. 

“Just…don’t do anything illegal, ok? The boys can’t handle you bein’ locked up right now.”

For some reason the words sting. It’s true the gang’s all been a wreck since the Curtis parents died, but Dally is under no illusions as to his place in their ragtag little group. They survived well enough before him, and they’ve survived every time he’s been in the cooler since knowing them, and it won’t be any different if he gets locked up now.

He must have scoffed or something because Darry glares at him. “I mean it.”

Whether he’s talking about the gang needing him or about him not doing anything that could get him into trouble with the cops, Dally doesn’t stick around long enough to find out. Instead, he turns on his heel, a plan already forming in his mind.

Buck Merril is just about the most pigheaded cowboy Dally’s ever met in his life, but he’s always running about half a dozen money making scams at any point in time, and he jumps anytime Dally offers to help because he gets stuff done and keeps his trap shut good. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, working for a guy he hardly likes and doesn’t respect, but money is money and Darry needs money desperately right now so he swallows his pride and asks Buck what needs doing.

He ends up two towns over, at a rickety trailer park off the main road, two kilos of smack stashed under the seat of Buck’s car. He makes the drop, bullies the buyer who wasn’t willing to cough up Buck’s agreed upon price, and ignores the way his stomach twists at the way he just gave someone else the very thing that destroyed his sister’s life, a million years ago back in New York. 

Buck claps him on the shoulder when he gets back. Dally shoves him off, takes his cut of dirty money, and leaves before he can punch someone. 

Warm light spills out the window of the Curtis house when he gets there. Ponyboy is leaning against Johnny on the porch steps, smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky, Johnny murmuring something to him that the kid doesn’t seem to be really hearing. It’s frightfully domestic and frightfully sad, the bruise on Johnny’s cheekbone almost black in the dim evening light, Ponyboy looking so skinny and tired Dally has the urge to tell him to go to bed. He doesn’t of course- it’s not his place, and Pony isn’t his brother. Instead, he ruffles both kids' hair as he passes them, tells them to get inside so they’ll have enough folks for a round of poker, and goes to find Darry.

Darry’s in the kitchen, scrubbing purple mac’n’cheese off a saucepan when Dally finds him. He watches for a minute, sees the tension in Darry’s broad shoulders, the viciousness in the way he’s scrubbing the pan. Desperation, Dally knows Is all consuming, bleeding into every thought, every action, every facet of life. For all he’s a different kind of desperate, Darry Curtis is as desperate now as Dally himself is.

He spares a quick glance over his shoulder. Johnny and Pony have trooped inside, the latter robotically shuffling a deck of cards, while Soda and Johnny chat quietly. Steve is flipping through channels on the radio, and Two is nowhere to be found. None of them so much as glance at the kitchen. Good.

“Dar.” 

Darry jumps, turns. 

“Glory Dal, scare a man to death, why dontcha!”

He rolls his eyes. “Ain’t my fault you weren’t payin’ attention. Here.” He holds out an envelope, and Darry’s eyes light first in understanding, then in hope.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offerin’ if I wasn’t.”

“Dal…”

“Take it,” He shakes the envelope, “before the others see.”

Hesitantly Darry reaches out, but as soon as his hands close around the paper he all but snatches it from Dally’s hand.

“Dal…I…thank you. I can’t tell you-”

“Whatever man,” Dally can feel the discomfort that comes anytime he is thanked or treated half decently raring in his chest, “I told you I’d take care of it and I meant it.”

“I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”

“It ain’t a loan, it’s just helpin’ out.”

“That’s not what I- nevermind,” Darry shakes his head, mouth twisting in a rueful half smile, “There’s dinner in the fridge, I made sure Soda saved you some.”

Dally fixes himself a plate, glaring down at pasta that was never meant to be purple, and he and Darry join everyone else in the living room. Johnny grins when he sees him, scooting closer to Ponyboy to make room on the sofa, and Steve steals the cards out of Pony’s hands to start dealing, having finally found a station playing half decent music. 

Dally eats his dinner and plays poker, pretending he doesn’t care half as much as he does when he loses. He wins half of Soda’s cigarettes and quickly loses them all to Johnny, pretending the feeling in his chest isn’t softer than anything he usually lets himself feel.

These boys don’t know it but they need him more than they know, and he’ll keep them safe. For Mrs, Curtis, but for himself too. 

After all, he’s always been a selfish bastard. 

[redraven393]

watching The Wild Robot Let's gooo

sun is shining and girly is clearly a morning person-love the multilinggual introduction.

someone out there has just wasted what I assume must have been millions of dollars to get this state-of-the-art robot only for it to be stranded in the middle of NO WHERE.

she is every managers ideal sales person omg her Voice acting is soo good!

OPP Gilry NOO (hits by waves) GILRY CLIMB Like a Crab

OH MY GOD SHE CAN MAKE STIKERSS- and she give them to all them.

Rozzem is fukin overwhelmed. her city-girl vibe is not meshing well with the Wild life.

ohhh~ learning mode? guess we doing the talking animal things huh, but from what I see from the day and night cycle it at least took Rozzem 8 days to learn the Animal language.

ROZZEM HONEY NOOO- omg they are all assholes-Rozzem sounded so sad omg honey.

Zeus is being an asshole - the Raccoons are being Assholes!! >:(

OMG NATURE IS JUST BEING AN ASSHOLE TO HER T-T

all of this was just from the first 10 minutes of the movie holly shit.

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

OMG WE KILLED A FAMILY T-T Rozzem is not catching a break

THE BABY!- GET THEM ROZZ-

A BABY!!!!- BABY - A BABBY

no wait Rozz honey you cant just left a new born baby what to heck.

that's what you get for ignoring a toddler Rozz, they break your shit.

I've seen this view a lot.

SHUT UP MOM THEIR ACTING IS ON POINT (also night shade salad?)

helo Pinktail- a mom friend Rozz need- OMG did someone die?- he lived YAY

The possum mom and her Kids are great

________________

Rozz a while ago: I need to go back I no longer have a task I CAN'T FUNCTION WITHOUT A TASK so I must left this newborn

PinkT a tired mom of 7: oh honey being a mom is a full-time task

Rozz immediately committed to be a mom: :D happy to serve my task

___________

Rozz Honey, please be gentle with the newborn. oh shit, it's the FOX, what do you want FINK-local Goose EXPERT?

Rozz please tell your manufacturer to add some self-preservation program in you the next time you see them FINK PLEASE AT LEAST HELP THE CHILD

oh yeah no one has named the newborn yet

"Kindness is not surviving skill" The audience would remember that and judge you when the time comes.

OMG Rozz you cant just admit to murder like that get a lawyer first at least

OMG BABY NOOO- oh yeah Rozz? and launching the Baby into the air like last time is???

NEW HOME Project Let's GOO- omg that is a big hole, man is gonna be a cause to a plot point later I can tell.

BABY FIRST WORDS- love that the baby is learning by mimicking Roz & Fink's banter

Roz no you need to encourage the Baby

Yes-yes name for the baby! BRIGHTBILL

home finish, Fink is living that sugar baby lifestyle

it's not copying its taking inspiration you beaver!

Storytime for the baby!

for a fox that was so ready to kill the kid you sure do worry about their innocence Fink

ahh motherhood~

YOU CANT RUN FROM FATHERHOOD FINK- This is to heal your inner childhood

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

TIME SKIPS!!!!

oh-oh no- OH NO BRIGHTBILL NOO why cant you inherit you Fox!dad personality instead T - T

THE ROBOT NOISES!!!

oh but Roz did teach him another language POG

glad you're still here with us Fink- and they're not WEIR they are Special.

aww they are so close to one another thoug- omg she is raising him to be a scientist

hi PinkTail and Kids- are they your new litter Pink?

SWIM TIME!- FINK is fukin savage to our boy

it's a swim alright....- aww Roz your mothering Program is on point now- Roz~ you need to let your teenage son do things on his own for once

hi mr. Beaver- huh i didn't expect to find more of them in this island

it may have because my teen years is not that long time ago but GOD do I feel the secondhand cringe

of course! even in the wild we will find Bullies- OMG BB NOO- GO TO HIM, MOM!

SHUT UP YOU PUSSIES FUCKING RAN AT THE FIRST SIGHT OF ROZ

BB call Roz MOM!!- SHUT UP BEFORE I FUKIN HUNT YOU DOWN FOR DUCK SEASON- Fink you are so the GOAT man- BB that is not how you talk to your PARENTS

omg Mr. Beaver hi??? why are you holding a knife??? Mr.Beaver???

off Roz honey we need to get you back in the factory buddy-

oh no the Back story reveal- ahh the Teen angst moments

EYYO BB THAT IS TO FAR !!

------

Oh we're back at the crash site? ANOTHER ARM?? there were Other Robots in that POD???

HOLLT SHIT

huh so they reall are just mass-produced- so where are they going to anyway???

Hey other Roz! or Rummige? Rumi is what I gonna call you

Roz honey you need a fukin break or else you might just have a meltdown

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

Roz, a tired mom to a teen goose: I have a Kid

Rumi, just being resurrected a minute ago: Girly Excuse me Wtf??

Rumi, flabbergasted by Roz's problem-solving idea: Gurl we were not meant to be a MOM

Roz still a tired goose Mom: I KNOW BUT I MUST

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

OKAY BUT LIKE- shout out to Rumi who didn't even care that she wouldn't survive long, she just saw this fellow robot like her struggling and giving up her own way to be back home and prioritize Roz

Fink is struggling without his bodyguard but is willing to climb a fuk ass mountain to check up on Roz is just AGGAHJYGUIS.

EYY you're in this thing too Fox.

Aww Rozz you're great hon, don't let some teenager make you down like that.

UGH her voice!!! she sounded so longing to be needed!-

"Maybe there is someone small there that needs my help" roughly translated to "maybe there is someone out there that WANTS me to HELP" - IMCRYING OMG

uh oh, winter is coming - Fink really saying that BB has no friends

BB you ungrateful lil shit- tell em Fink.

wait Rozzie Honey if you could have learned the proper way for Geese to fly now why didn't you do the same with the swimming part, Rozzie??

aww i forgot Roz lost a leg :(

OLD MAN MR. PEDDLER YOU ARE THE GOAT

He's UP! - He's down - oh no, yeah Rozz you need that self-preservation program installed soon you either learn em yourself or imma break 4th wall to install it.

THUNDERBOLT! And yeah i love how Rozz is having more friends in the Island

BB gonna be flying like a fukin Predator bird this winter, those fukin bullies won't know what hit em!

hello longneck sir, your group has been terrible to Rozz's son

"we Geese are a cranky lot" sir do you know that your whole species is a fukin menace???

why does he sound like a school principal telling the Protag's mom that she needs to make sure his grade is stable if she want her son to have a shot at the team

Roz honey why do you know the size of your son's heart?

YEAH GET HIS ASS PinkT!

The Forest guys are warming up to the Odds Fam Aww :3

and it's DONE the Boy can FLY! >:D

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

opp it's time everyone- wdym thing between you two is still weird

oh god he's really going away now huh? well at least LongNeck is a good fellow

"this Flight is a gift from Roz to you-" "do you see any others that are as small as you?" - YES! give that kid a lesson in perspective!

noooo Rozzie you don't need to hesitate calling BB your son

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

BB: will you be here when i get back? Roz: no me seeing there is still like 40 minutes left: uhhhh -------------------------- Say sorry you lil shit, or like thank you.-ah, and there he goes.

AUYSUGJAVXBXAVXAG FUCK T o T

THE LAST GOODBYE MY HEART FUHCHHKKK

welp, task over yeah Fink now you can go back to your unkind life where everything wants to kill you all the time.

help why do they sound like divorced parents already, the kid literally just left for college not a minute ago

JUST SAY YOU GUYS STILL WANT TO BE FRIENDS OMG

i mean she is clearly running on minimum energy with a deteriorating body because Nature is a bitch so uhhhh

FINK FUKIN COME BACK YOU COWARD

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

oh shit there are actually humans defuq I forgot about them.

checking in with Goose Child they are landing in what seems to be a very futuristic corn farm.

OMG ANOTHER ROZ- OH SHIT ANOTHER ROZ

YES, Grandpa LongNeck you know what's up!- UFF and too think all this is caused by a herd of Geese jeez

THAT'S NOT A ROZZEM - WHY DO THEY HAVE A FUKIN WAR MACHINE IN A FARM!!- YEAH LET'S GO BB!-

wait no Grandpa LongNeck - NO

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

oh hey! Awww i knew you guys will stick together.- bad storm huh- Rescue MISSION

PINKTAIL!-Lmao Finks no- Thunderstrom!!- MR. PADDLER SIR! (he is still going at it wtf)

ROZ honey you're wasting to much energy love- the BEAR TOO???

ah, shit-this is too much chaos- "the jerk wants to speak" lmao.

YEAH SO DON'T BE A JERK ASSHOLES!

oh no Rozzie please stay safe

The bear's name is THORN

Rozzie you okay hun?- SHE LIVES!!- and to wait for baby- HE'S HERE!!

aw LongNeck- aw Rozzie- ROZZIE STAY AND TALK TO YOUR SON ISTG

uhhh-UHHHHHH- UH?????? - Vontra?- uh?- why she is so touchy???

uh OH , ROZZUM- ISN'T THIS A BIT MORE THEN NECESSARY??

THORN!- THE GANG'S ALL HERE

NATURE vs AI LET'S GOOO

TITLE DROP SHE DID THE TITLE DROP

FIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHT

the acting school are doing wonders

NOO ROZZIE- VONTRA U BITCH

YES BB SHOW THEM WHY GEESE ARE FUKIN MENACES

also the forest fire...

give it up Vontra you could never defeat God's biggest mistakes

oh- oh kid- oh kiddo i am so sorry- oh honey

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH- fuck

oh?-oh! ROZZIE!

back to the Gang and the forest fire- hope we didn't left anyone behind-

oh MR. PADDLER SIR! we need your tree!

THUNDERBOLT

RIP i guess hope yu went to hell Vontra

Roz?-ROZ?- ROZZIE?!! WHAT'S WITH FLASH BACK ROZZIE??- ROZZUM WHY DID YOU THROW AWAY YOUR HEART?!- ROZ??!!

oh damn, that is a big Tsunami-

Rozzum?- aww you get a 10/10 finally Roz- oh -oh sheesh-

oh Rozzie- oh BB- Oh Fink- oh god YOU GUYS!

OMG THE ART

wtf Roz you can't make me sad like that.-

well, at least the gang is still as strong as ever- ROZ CAN HAVE WINGS???

nah you guys can't just let her be stuck as a farmer bot after ALL THAT!!

glad Fink and Mr. Peddler are friends now

i see what you did there Dreamwork- give us a "nice" ending but not the actually good one

[waitlexist]

Luna Chats

Ya girl was bored and wanted to write. I want to work on Luna’s story BUT OH MY SEVENS I am SO tired of writing Crowley like RAAAGAGGGGHHH

CW: swearing

June 25th, 2025: edit lol

> Luna - “Etiquette”

“Oh, good afternoon, prefect! It’s lovely to see you.”

“Hm? Why am I talking so formally? Well, it’s only polite to in the classroom.”

“I’d much prefer to talk as I normally do, of course. But if I were to get too comfortable, I might slip up and call my professor something informal.”

“I wouldn’t want to disgrace any of them like that.”

“… also, ya should see the look on people’s faces when I switch up and start talkin’ to ‘em all informal and shit. The switch up is never not funny.”

Fin

> Luna - “Pumpkins and Blueberries”

“Well, fuck my life, did you see how many questions were on that assignment? It’s like the Professor’s TRYING to kill us.”

“Elunza give me the willpower…”

“Eh? Who’s Elunza? Ah— she’s the goddess from my world. Goddess of the moon, stars, an’ fae, among other things.”

“She’s a chaotic, but benevolent deity. Elunza’s known for doing large scale tricks— such as making fields of pumpkins taste like blueberries! Nothin’ that would ruin lives, though.”

“She’s also known for punishin’ those who wrong people. Poachers and the like. Especially fairy hunters.”

“I prayed to her often in my old world— sometimes I still do, even if she can’t hear me here.”

Fin

> Luna - “Fairy Culture”

“Ahh, ‘m real excited for flight class! Nothin’ beats the feel of the wind in your hair, don’t you think?”

“Eh? Do I have wings? I mean, yeah.”

“Wha— no, you can’t see ‘em, prefect!”

“In fairy culture, your wings are something sacred. You only show them to other fairies— an’ in the case of humans, you only show humans you consider family.”

“Heheh… so, basically, you just asked me for a nude, prefect.”

“Mm? Other things ‘bout fairy culture? Well, lemme think…”

“Oh! Giving jewelry to those you don’t know very well’s considered a death threat.”

“Even though we can feel iron just by bein’ in its proximity, we’re still cautious around jewelry from strangers.”

“I mean, you should see iron scars. They are NOT pretty.”

Fin

> Luna & Riddle - “Important Research”

“Oh! Rosehearts, Rosehearts!”

“Housewarden. Yes, Luna?”

“Didja know hedgehogs are nocturnal?”

“… yes, I knew that.”

“Oh, you did? Well, didja know they’re lactose intolerant?”

“Yes, Luna. I also knew that.”

“Oh. Well, didja know they have over five thousand spines?”

“*Sigh*… yes, Luna.”

“Ehh? Really? Well, didja also know they—”

“Please tell me you didn’t skip out on studying to read about hedgehogs.”

“Urk!— ahah, um…”

Fin

> Luna & Azul - “Sea Treasures”

“Oh, hey, Prefect! Me and ‘zul were talkin’ about merfolk history.”

“Greetings, Prefect. Yes, we were. Care to recap, Luna?”

“Eh? I mean, I can, but I won’t sound as smart as you did.”

“We were talkin’ about this merfolk princess from way back when, before merfolk and humans got into contact.”

“They say she used to collect human artifacts from shipwrecks. Pretty neat, eh? I don’t blame her, free stuff is free stuff.”

“Yes, indeed. It was said the princess had a fascination with humans, and collected items from shipwrecks to satisfy her curiosity.”

“Though, as a princess, I’m sure she had plenty access to whatever she wanted…”

“Eh? Those titles make life more restrictive than you think, ‘zul...”

“Good for her, though! I’d also steal any pretty things I found from ruins, cursed or not!”

Fin

Luna & Kogane - “A World Without…”

“Ah— [MC]! Me and Kogane were just talkin’ about this— how did your world work without magic? Like, at all?”

“It’s not as special as you think, Luna. It functions about the same as this world.”

“Just… without the magical aspects. We have sports, just without magic—”

“Like jousting?”

“No. Usually, we pick two orphans and have them fight to the death in a colosseum.”

“Holy shit, really?!”

“No, Luna. Usually they either kick or bounce around a ball.”

“Oh. Damn, that sounds lame. Spelldrive ‘s WAY cooler.”

“I’d ALMOST prefer the orphan fight.”

Fin

Obligatory moot tag 👉👈 @kogane-twst

[nothing0fnothing]

Did any of you guys have emotionally immature parents who would throw a children's birthday party and then turn it into an adult function?

Because like what the fuck even was that? And it wasn't just my parents. I saw this level of parental stupidity in most of my parents friends too.

I've seen adults get so drunk at a kids party that they're louder and more disruptive than the kids are. Parents sitting on the garden furniture and dismissing their children when they "bother" them with a request. Kids witnessing all sorts of drunken behaviour they shouldn't be. If it's not traumatic for the kids, it's definitely disruptive to their development.

It was pretty standard at these parties that the adults, because they're drunk and have all the power in the dynamic, take over the entire space. For their own convenience, putting all the kids who are by now over hyper, over tired and over stimulated in a small bedroom together and shutting the door. Basically not giving a fuck about the wellbeing of the kids at all. As long as the adults are having fun, who gives a shit, right?

I went to 2pm birthday parties that go on so late the kids are no longer having fun, 2, 3, 4+ hours past their bedtime. When the kids asks their parent if they'll take them home, because they're tired and they're hungry and they're crashing out from the sugar, being told "later" so the adult can keep drinking.

That was me. I was once at a kids birthday party that got so adult focused, and went on so late, that after begging my parents to please take me home 4 or 5 times I went to find a quiet place in the house to nap till they got me. When I couldn't find a room that didn't have a bass boosted speaker blasting in it, I was so overwhelmed I crawled under a table and cried till I fell asleep there. When they were ready to leave, and couldn't find me in the screaming chaos they'd brought me to, they were mad at me for falling asleep at 2am, because it added an extra 15 minutes to their plan to leave. The horror. The trauma. Literally cannot imagine. Sarcasm.

I'm talking about a pool party I went to with a dozen over hyped sugar filled 4-7 year olds that were essentially unsupervised because every adult around them is too drunk to be responsible. Kids were doing seriously unsafe shit from running around on the slippery poolside to throwing each other into the deep end to jumping from random garden furniture into the shallow end and the adults were just.. drunk and inattentive to the whole situation. Someone could have drowned and nobody would have noticed.

I mean a family event my mother hosted, catered to little children with a bouncy castle and unlimited sugar on tap, but there were adults in the other room doing cocaine and getting into fist fights in the car park.

[thelocalmuffin]

Vent about Autism Discrimination

Cw for child abuse, eugenics mention, and self loathing. It's heavy so please read with caution. And oh yeah this is definitely trauma dumping.

I can't sleep. Seeing eugenic practices against autistic people unraveling around my eyes is concerning. I mean a lot of people are getting fucked over by governments. So what's new about this? You ask.

Well. I noticed something. How many are downplaying how serious this is alarms me. This is BAD news. This is probably the beginning of a cycle of eugenics for multiple disorders. We are just first because we're an easy target.

I am autistic. This isn't a shocker to anyone that knows me. I have long since been diagnosed. I am not quiet about it.

However, I am not considered functioning. I cannot live alone due to it. I can function okay with someone near me, but I only work part time. In short, without the support of my wife, I'd be fucking screwed.

Because of how young I was diagnosed (late 90s) my diagnosis has long since been passed to the government. I am looking into withdrawing as much as I can, but I'm sure that's an impossibility. In short, if this passes, I'm probably screwed for something I didn't wish or honestly want.

Yep. That's right. I actually more or less accept I have it more than I love it. If you embrace it, you are awesome. I'm proud of you.

But. I'm different. Truth is, as much as I have come to terms with it, this diagnosis has done nothing but haunt me. I have positive moments with it, but it's just been giving abled people a reason to discriminate more than it has helped me.

I am about to vent what I went through because I'm tired of downplaying it. People bluntly used my autism to abuse me.

I struggled in a state that really hated autistic folks. School was awful. I was overstimulated and didn't understand why or what was happening. Teachers constantly screamed at me for being difficult even when I told them my diagnosis but they didn't care. I don't even want to go through what teachers allowed my peers to do to me because I was "bad."

I begged to be homeschooled. My parents...well. They didn't listen.

The truth is, a lot of this falls on my parents for neglect. My parents got me diagnosed and once they got an answer, they did nothing to help me cope. My siblings were taught by my mom to indirectly hate me. They learned fast because I was nervous to defend myself they could point fingers at me and my mom would punish me because the autistic kid did it.

Unfortunately those were my mom's words when my siblings admitted the truth out of guilt. They have also mostly made amends with me. They slip up from time to time, but they listen. Sometimes it does get better and I don't want folks to forget that.

Though, the first time I didn't hate it or myself for having it was at 20 years old when I first got access to the internet full time. Meeting others who were educated about it helped SO much. It was liberating and nice. I was able to find a network to help me cope better with incredible solutions. I was able to call my family out for their ableism without being scared.

Thoug, unfortunately, this doesn't erase the fact my irl life was a mess. Still is. Yet, I'm now literally 1k miles away. Though there is truth that it was due to Utah becoming a shit show for queer folks, it was actually how my parents started getting frustrated that I was not going to be their caretaker because "I would amount to nothing due to my autism."

I'll be blunt: this was mostly my mom, but my dad did not help when I told him what she said. My parents still imply my diagnosis is a plague to this very day.

Unfortunately, their hatred has only gotten worse. My nephew is also neurodivergent. When he was getting screened, something horrific happened. They were all more concerned my nephew's neurodivergency, if autism, would stress out the family more than HIM. Who has to LIVE with it.

I cried for hours for my nephew. They already predetermined they would hate him if he had autism like they did me. A generation has passed and in spite of trying to educate them, they learned fucking nothing from my understanding of their ignorance and my righteous rage when they crossed a line.

Yet... that's enough about my family drama. I want to discuss what led to this. The blatant universal hate swung HARD. I'll be honest that all of this this isn't a surprise to me. I noticed it about a year ago when I got a job and they stopped listing autism as a protected class for disorders in Utah. I stopped seeing folks outside of the community use autism awareness month. I heard of students citing a paper when assigned for autism to focus on how the families impacted by a diagnosis by an autism speaks article. Those students got an A. This was LAST year.

The hate and ignorance has only grown.

I can't tell you all how much shit I've gotten just for being fucking alive. There's more I'm leaving out, but there's no way I can type all of it out.

I am angry, frustrated and disgusted. As you all should be. We are about to enter a horrible time we didn't ask for. I will make clear now: if you use the r slur, speak over autistic people (self dx or not) or make ableist jokes about us to help yourself feel better, get the fuck off my blog. You are not welcome here. Your casual ableism helped lead to this.

Autistic people have a right to this world like anyone else. I didn't deserve this abuse regardless of my diagnosis and no one else fucking does.

Do not attempt to silence us. We have a right to be concerned. Please speak up for us. We desperately need it.

[violentlyexplosive]

man, trying to find good fan-written work featuring a blind/visually impaired character (or reader) is like wading through waterfalls of literal shit. like I hate being mean about this kinda stuff, I understand not everyone on the planet knows what it's like to not be able to see properly, but for the love of GOD, GOOGLE IT. OR ASK SOMEONE. OR JUST DON'T WRITE ABOUT SOMETHING YOU KNOW LESS THAN NOTHING ABOUT.

if you're hell bent on writing a visually impaired or blind person, here are some quick pointers so you don't come across as an ableist prick:

99% of us don't hate being blind. some of us were born this way. others have had plenty of time to come to terms with whatever happened to us. for a whole lot of us, it is simply a fact of life, and not something we even really think a lot about on a day to day basis. I am sure there are tons of low vision people out there that do hate it, but it is an incredibly individualised and nuanced experience. please for the love of all literary goodness, don't do the whole "oh woe is me, I'm blind, however will I go on!!!" thing. it's tired, overdone, and frankly a little insensitive.

WE DON'T JUST SEE DARKNESS. WE DON'T SEE BLACK. WE DO NOT SEE. for some people, like myself, we have significant vision loss, but can still see clearly enough to move through life without much difficulty. for others, they might have large blind spots, and small sections of vision to rely on. only a very small percentage of us have absolutely 0 vision, and in those cases, it isn't "darkness" or "pitch black" that one sees- it is nothing. I know it can be hard to wrap your head around, but a common example used is: bend your arm and point your elbow forward. what does your elbow see? nothing, right? not blackness, not darkness- just the absence of sight. that is what total blindness looks like.

ok, so I'm aware this one people are getting better about, but it bears repeating: blind people do not touch faces to "see" them. why the fuck would we do that. I'm sure with close family members, romantic partners, or even friends, it may be something one does just for the fuck of it, or to make note of a specific feature (i.e. hair texture, nose shape, scars, etc,) but nobody is out here using their fingers to map out people's faces just on the reg. do you have any idea how awkward that would be. I don't know where your face has been, and I'd frankly rather just imagine the specifics of your features and admire your blurry visage WITHOUT my fingies, thank you very much.

OUR OTHER SENSES ARE NOT MAGICALLY ENHANCED. we're not superheroes, we're disabled. sure, over time, we might come to rely on our other senses more, and hone them better, but we're not fucking Daredevil. I can't hear the buzzing of my lightbulbs because I'm legally blind and super cool (unfortunately,) I hear them because I'm fucking autistic.

a good chunk of us don't know how to read braille. an unfortunate side effect of having text to speech functions on phone cameras is the loss of this skill. if i can't read something, I ask someone else to read it for me, or I take a picture and zoom in. braille differs from country to country, language to language, etc etc. even if I learned Irish braille (written as Gaeilge, by the way, so not even in English!) I would not be able to read braille in my native language of Swedish. and beyond drugstore products, it typically isn't used much. I've rarely, if ever, found braille menus, instruction manuals, books, etc. and with modern technology, learning and knowing braille is falling increasingly out of style.

not all blind eyes look milky/all white. my fully blind eye is constantly closed, but my functioning, legally blind eye is perfectly normal in appearance. in fact, you've probably met one or two people in your life who would qualify as legally blind/low vision who function and, through all outward appearances, are no different from you.

we are not weak little babies that need protecting. I'd argue that visually impaired people can probably get around better than some fully sighted people, purely because we're forced to be more aware of our surroundings. not to mention some of us have guide dogs or friends/family/what-have-you to help us manoeuvre when necessary. just because we can't see well doesn't mean we're damsels in distress incapable of wiping our own asses. we're people with personalities and skill sets and life experiences, not infants.

ok so I'm sure this has come across as aggressive and/or rude, but yknow what? I don't particularly care anymore. I have seen far too many ignorant and uneducated people try to write or otherwise portray blind/visually impaired characters using guesswork and stereotypes from television, and I've just hit a wall in terms of being able to disregard it and not care. I do care. a whole lot, apparently. I'm tired of seeing random people on the internet deciding they'll write a low vision character and butchering it so terribly it makes me physically cringe. if you have to write a character with a visual disability, I implore you to read a fucking book, google it for 15 minutes, hell, make a reddit post or something to ask actual visually disabled people about their experiences so you're not making a fool of yourself, talking out of your ass and insulting an entire category of human beings. it is that easy.

[tinyspringtrap]

Still smells like some choice bullshit that even tho i am in agonizing pain and it’s pretty much hereditary for women in my family to have severe pain and problems related to the uterus that have only ever stopped after having hysterectomies, my family physician still wants to do nothing other than give me the ‘what if you want children someday??’ bullshit like...

1. I dont like babies. if i ever change my mind on wanting children i will adopt a child age 10+ because i genuinely cannot be around infants or toddlers because i have a fucking phobia of them and hate being near them.

2. I absolutely do not want to be pregnant ever i would vastly prefer a literal fucking bullet to the head over some gross parasite feeding off of my already brittle body thanks.

3. I am in so much pain i cannot function on a basic level for multiple days at a time, the possibility of a child from my body is not more important than my ability to FUNCTION ON A DAILY BASIS. Doubly so because painkillers, even prescription ones, DO NOTHING. Triply so because i have an unbelievably high tolerance for pain, and i am in agony despite it.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Would you be willing to do a platonic jinx and silco with a autistic fem reader? Has trouble with communucation and socialization, a bit clumsy, but is otherwise very loyal and sweet to them both and one of the few people who not only can keep up with jinx intelligence wise but actually understand her. Silco and jinx one day overhear one of silco's goon straight up call her an "idiot freak" or something really horrible not knowing she's more than just that kid that hangs around jinx all the time but is pretty much family.

(hello! I however, do not write autistic readers because I do not have autism or know anyone who does and I don't want to be insensitive for anything about that so I cannot do that so sorry. But anyways, enjoy!)

Little Dysfunctional Family

Jinx

Jinx was ways happy to have you

Even if you had your quirks

She wasn't always the best with communication either

She was also accident prone, now and then when she was a certain someone

She didn't like socializing, she hated it

She didn't like being around fake ass goons who thought kissing up to her would get them on Silcos good side

It got tiring

So, having you, and knowing your love and being with her was genuine??

Made everything else matter absolutely jack shit

She treats you like a sibling, maybe if your younger, like a little kid sibling she never had

She will be very protective and loving

She doesn't want anything to happen to you

Or for anything, or anyone to take you away

She doesn't think she can handle that

So she does whatever it means to keep you happy and very loved

As long as you love her the same

It's a great deal, really

She is very happy you're able to connect with her on so many different levels

Especially when you help her when she has freak outs

You understand why she has them, and how she is the way she is

But you never judged her about it

Or really questioned it, you were just you, and you were there for her

And she will always love you for that

And that you're able to keep up with her highly energetic ways is amazing

And how you can make gadgets and go on and on for hours on end with her

She loves

She never had someone like that before, so now that she does

She doesn't wanna let it go and doesn't want anything to change

So to hear someone talk shit about you??

You??

The amazing one, her fucking sibling, like they're nothing??

Oh boy

When Jinx is mad, she is mad

There are no limits

She will do whatever the hell she pleases to them

She'll toy with them for a little tho lmao

She'll be asking

"Why do ya think that?? Wow, what else do you think?"

Acting coy, a fake pleasant and charming smile on her face while she is seething inside

Then she'll just bust out

"Well, funny you say that about, y'know, my best friend."

She'd be giggling while the goon is terrified

Everybody knows

don't fuck with Jinx

She's a firecracker is under the protection and love of the Eye of Zaun

So, safe to say

That goon is GONE

never to be seen again

Oh well, cuts your losses

Jinx will then rant to you about it and be telling you how wrong the goon is

She'll also probably tell you bits of what he said, and make it out like he tried attacking her to justify what she did

But it's okay!

Who can be mad at this amazing girl?

Silco

He is the Eye of Zaun, man

He may not show it or say it very often, but he cares deeply about you and Jinx

He's had you guys for so long, he forgot what it was like without you both

He didn't care that you didn't very function well with socializing and communicating

To him, you were perfect

Because you were you

He wasn't good with that stuff either, like Jinx

That's what makes you all an amazing little family

A family that protects one another from anything

You all were basically molded with the same skills, some lacking in some departments, but we'll enough to appreciate one another

Even if it's not said every day

You knew it, Jinx knew it, and so did Silco

So, he wants to keep you and Jinx happy

He wants you guys to be taken care of

He also appreciated that you can connect with Jinx on a level he can not

Intelligence wise and her personality in general

Not many can keep up with the blue haired wonder

So, it's very much appreciated that you keep her alive while also indulging in her activities

He will not let anyone talk shit about you

Did you see how he acted when Sevika tried to call Jinx a problem??

Well, he'd act sorta like that

If the goon kept going on about you and saying shit

He's be silently pissed as they keep running their fucking mouth

If they even get the chance

He may not kill them per se

But they will be traumatized, no doubt

If they go far enough, he'd probably send Sevika on their ass

He would not stand for it

He would also, probably call them into his office and play a physiological game

He'd threaten them no doubt

And you and Jinx are giggling up in the rafters having the time of your lives watching this absolute jackass almost piss himself

Anyway, Silco would not let any asshole try and run all over you

He taught you better than to let that happen

He also will take care of it for you

It's his way of showing fatherly love

It's not perfect, but it's the way that he knows he can show it without screwing up

[qqueenofhades]

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Brothers and Side Characters Go on a Road Trip!

So, Diavolo, Lord of the Devildom, wants to go on a road trip for reasons unknown. You know what? Screw it, the reason is because Dia wants to do a fun human thing because MC brought it up during tea time. No one can defy the king, so TIME FOR A ROAD TRIP!

Shut Up! HE DOESN’T NEED DIRECTIONS! (Lucifer)

He was going to turn that car around. That’s it, he was going to leave. Someone else drive.

I hope your MC likes staticky traffic updates because that’s what Lucifer constantly had on the radio.

Obviously, some of the brothers complained, so Lucifer put on Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9. HELL YEAH TURN IT UP DJ!

Lol JK no one can car-dance to classical music. Just go back to the staticky traffic updates…

Lucifer would have preferred it if MC or Barbatos were riding shotgun next to him, but Diavolo ended up getting it. Dia is constantly asking Lucifer to stop so he can take pictures of the most mundane shit.

Lucifer stopped stopping after the first fifteen requests.

“I’m not stopping at McDonalds- hang on. Hi McDonald’s employee, one black coffee please.”

In true father fashion, Lucifer got lost and REFUSED to ask for directions. They were lost for five hours before Diavolo finally asked:

“Lucifer, you can turn on the GPS right?”

“Yes, but I don’t trust it.”

Everyone screamed in frustration and were all fully prepared to abandon Lucifer at the side of the road.

Please… can someone else drive? Anyone else…

Are We There Yeeeet..? (Mammon)

Okay, so, Mammon was one of two ways on that road trip. One: complete ADHD daydream zoned out. Or type Two: AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRREEEEE WEEEEEEEE THEEEEEEEEERRRRRREEEE YEEEEEEET???!

He wanted to stop and go to all the tourist traps, by the end of the road trip Mammon wanted to open his own.

The Avatar of Greed loves driving, problem is, he’s used to driving off into the sunset as a lone bachelor, not with his friends and brothers in the car as well.

He only got to drive once, and it was awful. 0/10 would not recommend. Luke thought MC was driving and called shotgun…

Mammon just turns on the radio for music and hopes something good is on at least ONE channel.

STOP WEAVING BETWEEN LANES YOU MORON-

Not all of Mammon’s time driving was bad, the combined powers of Luke and Mammon meant that everyone stopped at a petting zoo at the side of the road. Everyone had a good time, even though when they got back into the car they all smelled like a farm.

Did anyone else hear that oinking in the car-

*Vibes to Music in the Backseat* (Levi)

After being cruelly dragged from his room and placed in this stupid van… he just climbed into the backseat and put on his headphones.

Maybe anime openings could drown out this problem…

Levi only drove for fifteen minutes, it was the most terrifying fifteen minutes of everyone’s lives.

Mario Kart is not a substitute for proper driving school!

Listen- Levi actually saved the entire trip, after stopping at a gas station everyone noticed that Levi never complained about what was on the radio because he was wearing headphones, so everyone bought their own pair and the car trip was so much more pleasant…

No matter how many times Lucifer told Levi to get his feet off the seat, he wouldn’t listen, he was GAMING and they took him away from his gaming chair! HE NEEDED TO SCRUNCH HIMSELF UP LIKE A GOBLIN TO FOCUS DAMMIT!

Whenever the car would stop so everyone could get out and take a picture or look at something, Levi had to be practically dragged out of the car and manually posed for the pictures.

“Is this one of those vans with TVs in them? I brought the first five volumes of TSL on DVD!”

While Satan was driving they stopped at a lake, and Levi burst out of the car and made friends with all the lake fish.

He was still soaking wet when they had to leave.

I’m a Responsible Driver- IS THAT AN OLD BOOKSTORE?! (Satan)

Satan, we believed in you…

Our favourite nerd wanted to stop at any and all historical spots or cool looking bookstores he saw.

When everyone went to buy headphones, he got a pair with cat-ears on them! Because obviously!

Satan’s a responsible driver, and he’s not as prone to road rage as one might think. He has patience, remember in the Jobs event when he worked in customer service? Those kinds of jobs take a godlike amount of self control to do.

Asmo called shotgun and Satan got to have the wonderful experience of having his ear chatted off by his dear brother.

Satan was not about to have fast food for the eighth time in four days, if everyone wanted food, he’d stop at a restaurant.

He was terribly sorry to anyone who needed to use the restroom, but they should have gone at the last rest stop.

When Satan stopped at the lake, he gave everyone a long lecture on the historical significance of the place, then noticed that Levi was being crowned king of the lake and decided he should cut his history lesson short before Levi abandoned his family to chill with the fish forever.

I wanted Satan to be the normal chill one with the radio… I really did… but deep in my subconscious I feel like Satan would put on one of those language learning DVDs so he can learn another language on the go like a total dork.

Road Rage (Asmodeus)

No one saw this coming but- Asmo gets some B A D road rage. Someone cuts him off? “Hi hello dear, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS?!” Someone doesn’t use a turn signal? “YOU BRAIN DEAD MORON! LEARN TO DRIVE!” Someone just pisses him off? “*prolonged horn sound*”

It’s just… the car trip was so taxing on the poor Avatar of Lust… he was crammed into the middle seat for the majority of the trip… he had to give his sleeping mask to Belphie… Beel was getting crumbs all over him and he couldn’t move over… just so tragic…

Solomon called shotgun and it was the greatest couple of hours of his life. He got a front row seat to Lucifer and Barbatos dragging Asmo back into the car because he tried to pick a fight with another driver.

Asmo wasn’t having a good time…

He didn’t want to stop for any gas station food or go through a drive-thru so it was another expensive restaurant trip. Rest In Peace to the gang’s wallets.

When he wasn’t driving, Asmo was loudly talking with MC or talking on the phone. It was a blessing in disguise when they went through an area with bad phone reception and Asmo finally had to shut up.

Oh well… at least he got a few nice pictures for Devilgram.

MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! (Beel)

We all know Beel is massive, right? His head is touching the ceiling and every speed-bump hurt.

He’s the one begging to stop at every gas station or fast food place they pass by.

Beel’s section in the car was covered in empty bags of Doritos by the end of the trip.

When Beel got to drive, Belphie got shotgun! Hell yeah dream team!

Poor Beel, he got distracted and ended up somehow popping a tire. He pulled over next to a farm, changed the tire, then got back in the car and kept driving.

Uh… there was an awful lack of snoring next to Beel- OH FUCK THEY LEFT BELPHIE!

Belphie was found sleeping next to the cows on the farm they had stopped at earlier.

The cows didn’t want to give their sleepy god up so easily…

After that… Beel didn’t want to drive anymore…

“Look, cows.” (Belphie)

I really need to stop with the cow jokes but I CAN’T

*snore*

Belphie’s crammed between Beel and MC for most of the trip and is probably drooling all over poor MC’s lap or shoulder.

Beware, he jolts up randomly and looks around in a panic before he realizes he’s in a car. This happens every three hours.

Belphie’s not allowed to drive, he’d fall asleep. But when Lucifer takes the wheel and puts on that fucking staticky radio, Belphie forms an idea.

“*ahem* four thousand bottles of beer on the wall, four thousand bottles of beer,”

Mission success, Lucifer wanted to tear his hair out.

Belphie ended up asking to stop when they get to a stretch of road with no streetlights, everyone got out of the and stared at the stars.

…listen, it’s a miracle no one got axe murdered but the stars were gorgeous.

Remember when I said Satan put on those language learning DVDs? Yeah uh…. Belphie woke up from his last nap of the trip almost fully fluent in Spanish. At least one person gained a new skill on this trip…

Oooo, Look at Thaaaaat! (Diavolo)

Even though the side characters were in a different car most of the time, sometimes people would switch to the other car if they met up at a gas station.

By the end of the road trip Dia looked like one of those tourist dads, Hawaiian shirt and all.

Dia can’t drive

He’s absorbing human culture… and human culture involves ordering everything at this random Wendy’s.

Diavolo’s camera roll is so unbelievably full by the end of the trip and he refuses to delete ANY of the pictures.

Most of the pictures are of really weird and boring stuff, like traffic signs and trees, but the picture he ends up printing out and putting in a picture frame is a picture of the whole group at the petting zoo having a grand old time.

He wanted to take home a baby goat but Barbatos said that wasn’t a good idea :(

Help. (Barbatos)

So, it could have been worse for Barbatos, he could have been stuck in the car with the brothers and MC.

Dia always had the seat up front, but when he left the car to go hang out with the dude-squad, Solomon got the passenger seat.

Solomon decided it would be a good idea to pester Barbatos to go faster and take weird shortcuts through (probably not legal) backroads and creepy forest paths.

Good thing Barbatos, Luke, and Simeon had functioning brain cells and knew that’s how horror movies began.

Barbatos stopped for fast food once and only once. It’s not healthy!

He’s the only driver to take suggestions for music, meaning that the side characters’ car was the best one of the two.

“SOMEONE GET THE BARF BAG!”(Simeon)

He’s just… he’s just trying his best not to vomit…

Simeon thought the car would be a good place to get some writing done while they drove down long stretches of road. Simeon was wrong in that assumption.

With his head down way too much while the car zoomed down the highway, Simeon felt himself getting *very* sick about four hours in.

He was worried he may have accidentally eaten something of Solomon’s… but nope. The angel was carsick.

Luke had the important job of patting Simeon on the back as he leaned over the barf-bag while Solomon dry heaved up front.

Hurry and open the windows before Solomon barfs too!!!!

Other than the car sickness, he had the job of making sure Luke was entertained, there was a good hour of eye-spy until they just got to a stretch of forest.

After that, Simeon realized that he could just give Luke free permission to ramble about whatever he wanted and that would keep the little guy entertained for HOURS.

What do You Mean I Can’t Legally Make This Turn?! (Solomon)

Shifty bastard can drive, problem is, he doesn’t care about the laws of the road.

He ended up getting pulled over after breaking approximately 11 traffic laws in less than ten minutes.

“License and registration.” “Yeah yeah yeah…” “…sir, this license expired in 1989.” “…shit.”

Solomon gunned it and managed to use his magic to hide the car and evade the very confused traffic cop.

Luke was completely aghast at the flagrant law breaking, but Solomon’s excuse was that the 80s were a lawless wasteland and he completely forgot he legally had to update his license.

He’s an equally obnoxious passenger as he is driver, but at least no one in the car is bored.

“You know, back in the day cars didn’t have seatbelts.” “Solomon put your seatbelt back on.”

…Can we keep it? (Luke)

He was against this from the start. A road trip? With those nasty demons? No! Never!

Okay fine… maybe he wanted to see some more of the human world… he agreed to go.

After helping Simeon through his car sickness, he misheard the other car say that MC would be driving, and Luke wanted to hang out with his third parent 🥺

That’s how he ended up riding shotgun next to Mammon. It started out rough, but when the two spotted the petting zoo it was all sunshine and rainbows.

Luke made friends with all the animals! He was like a little Disney Prince. He got especially attached to this one piglet, it was a surprise to Simeon that the goodbye wasn’t tearful.

Luke smuggled that piglet out of the petting zoo and they were all over fifty miles away before anyone noticed.

Of course, everyone was just shocked that Luke had stolen something, but he looked so cute holding the little piggy… awwww…

The bros obviously joked that Luke had gone to the dark side and was totally evil because he had taken the pig, much to the poor kid’s dismay.

Simeon tried to convince Luke that he needed to return the piglet but Luke was adamant that he could totally take good care of it.

Welp, time for Lucifer to fix this.

“Luke, you need to go put the pig back, it’s not yours.”

“No! I’ll take good care of it!”

“That doesn’t matter, you stole it. It’s not your property, do you want to end up a scummy thief like Mammon?”

“No not at all. Let’s go return the pig.”

“THAT’S ALL IT TOOK?!”

[thewickedkat]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

tagged by my lovely friend @vcaudley!

Are you named after anyone? - to the best of my knowledge, no. i don’t know if this makes my family more or less imaginative.

When was the last time you cried? - yesterday, i think it was? or maybe the evening before. was reading a fucking excellent fic and it was sweet, and aching, and hollowed me out so thoroughly i felt like an echo of myself and i had to stare at a wall for about ten minutes while i pressed down on those emotional bruises until i could endure it. fantastic.

Do you have kids? - i don’t have human kittens (i do not want them), but i do have two year-old regular kittens, nearly a year old.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? - yes. i genuinely don’t think i could function without it. when texting i’m more careful, because i know being deadpan can be difficult to parse.

What sports do you play/have played? - for enjoyment, or as a team-building nightmare in school? i don’t sport for funsies--though i really do miss swimming. used to swim laps and had excellent endurance. in school i tried to play basketball, because it was Indiana and i am tall, but...it was not a good scene.

What's the first thing you notice about people? - overall body language and tone of voice. comes from having to gauge emotional weather of those around me. thanks, trauma!

What's your eye colour? - Green.

Scary movies or happy endings? - what kind of scary? like, Saw films (bleh)? or psychological thrillers (yes please)? and who doesn’t like a happy ending (not necessarily like that)? you ask me, not enough happy endings; everything is trying too damn hard to be grimdark and edgy and it makes me tired.

Any special talents? - improv and memorising stuff. i’m excellent at memorising. i can also make hella awesome costume jewelry.

Where were you born? - here. which is not there. it is potty little South Central PA.

What are your hobbies? - reading, knitting, making jewelry, leaving faintly unhinged feedback on fic authors’ works; pondering the lives of fictional characters; video games, nesting.

Do you have pets? - yep--two cats: Mochi and Soba. they are brothers, and menaces, and they delight in driving me bonkers and i adore them for it.

How tall are you? - drivers licence says 6′1″ but my posture is absolute shit, so i probably pop at only 6 feet.

Favourite subject in school? - tech theatre, speech, sociology, psych. i’d love to say literature but lit classes in Indiana are a fucking joke.

Dream job? - voice actor, hands down. possibly writing for video games, or maybe researching weird shit online and getting paid for it. i’d love to write full-time but i sadly do not have the self-discipline for it.

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

[notepadsandtealeaves]

Dabi // Touya T.

NSFW ABCs || A Thot’s Thoughts 💦

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | mha tag | m.lists | main blog ||

↠ Requested By: The Thirst™ ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: HELLA NSFW ((Minors, kindly ✨ fuck off ✨)) ↠ CWs/TWs: Any applicable warnings can be found before their respective sections, tho the ‘Kink’ section does get kinda wild (exhibitionism, choking, fear play, knifeplay, allusions to CNC, and degradation). Also I’ll go ahead and throw in a general warning for Dabi being Dabi and all that entails—because lbr that man is a gd walking crisis lmao—as well as Dabi-typical trauma. ↠ Betas? Where they do that at?? ↠ Total WC: 10k~ ((…yeah… lmao))

Look, Dabi knows that other people find him attractive, but for the half-dead life of him he can’t figure out why? He is a literal burn victim, half of his skin has been seared away and what little there is left is attached with fucking staples. He thinks we’re all a bunch of weird ass freaks, but luckily for us all he’s into that shit lmao.

↠ I’ve got the worst case of horny Dabi brainrot and I’m determined to make it the world’s problem.

((Since a lot of new people have been stumbling across this lately I figured now was as good a time as any to update it. There hasn’t been any major changes; it’s mostly just cosmetic, with a few nips and tucks to the writing itself to make things flow better.))

If you’re familiar with my writing you’re probably damn tired of me doing these ABC’s and also not finishing my other works you’ll know that I tend to venture well beyond the boundaries prompts. That is to say that this shit’ll be kinky, yeah, but also a character study; sex and intimacy are such personal, intricate and integral things, often fueled by emotions and experiences that one doesn’t even readily know are at play. I like to use these prompts as a way to really dig my grubby little paws into a character and find out what I personally think makes them tick. If that sounds like your bag, then please join me in this feels-lined pit of depravity lol…

At current I’m anime only, so aside from a few spoilers and consuming fics I don’t know much about our favorite burnt bacon bitch other than the fact that he’s hot (in more ways than one), angy (and subsequently murder-y), and a Todoroki (which is synonymous with emotional repression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and a whole bunch of other things that make my heart hurt to think about). So if anything sounds out of character in this that’s why. Also any CWs will be posted before the applicable letter.

But that’s more than enough rambling from me. Let’s get into things, shall we?

Aftercare || What they’re like after sex.

AfTErCaRe??

Lmaoooooo, bitch byeeee…

Wtf even is that, honestly? ‘Tending to your partner after sex’—yeah, that shit sounds fake to him. This man does the bare minimum to keep himself (mostly) functional, do you really think he has the mind to pat someone up after fucking?

Hahahaha—no.

Most of his hookups are just that, one time deals that aren’t meant to last much longer past the time it takes for him to put his clothes back on and fuck off into the sunset. He doesn’t trust anyone enough to stay over at their place, and bringing them back to wherever the fuck it is he’s crashing at currently is a big ol’ ✨ Nope ✨ so anything other than a “That was fun” coupled with a smirk and a wave has never been a thing he felt the need to provide.

If you become a reoccurring fuck buddy, or gods help him, his actual significant other, then…

Look if he likes you enough to sleep over then he definitely probably likes you enough to try, but…

Intimacy is a thing that terrifies him, okay? Being that close to another person has never ended well for him in non-romantic situations; things always soured, always turned volatile and violent and terrible and that was just his familial relationships, things that weren’t nearly as complicated as whatever… this is the pair of you have going.

Whether you’re friends with benefits or something more he refuses to put a label on it because words and titles would make it real. This thing you have may be without any true form, but he likes it that way—he likes you, if he’s honest (which he so rarely is when it comes to things like this, even in the confines of his own mind, ‘thinking makes it so’ and all that noise). He wants to keep you around for as long as possible and if that means tossing a bag of your favorite snack and a bottle of water on the nightstand for you before he pounds you into the mattress then so be it.

As you’d probably expect his version of aftercare isn’t exactly a gentle thing. He’s more opt to use a discarded shirt (always yours because it’s definitely the cleaner of the two not to mention the fact that he has to put his back on when he slinks out of your window at o’dark-thirty) to clean you up than a towel; more likely to tease you until you’re a blushing, stuttering mess than to outright praise you; more prone to fucking you in the shower than actually helping you to bathe.

But still, he’s sweet in his own way.

Like I said before he’ll make sure that you have something to munch on once your session finally sees its end. If he’s done his job right—and he always, always does—then you’re probably too tired to actually feed yourself. Though he’ll tease you about it, he won’t hesitate to prop you up against his chest and pop the morsels into your waiting mouth. Yes, he does this in the most suggestive way possible, and yes, he oftentimes ends up eating a good portion of the food himself, but it’s all good because he brought extras—“So quit yer complaining, brat, and let me take care of you. Ol’ fussy ass…”

If he’s been especially rough with you, and you’re really insistent on not limping in to school/work/wherever it is you have to go the next day, he’ll give you a rubdown and my god is it heavenly. He heats his hands up just enough for you to really feel it and just digs and in and ahhhhh~

I really just sat here and made myself jealous over a fictional murder man giving a self-heated massage to an amalgamation of readers, huh? Damn, I really need to get out more lmao…

Anyways!

This is only if he’s feeling especially soft and generous. He knows he can’t claim you in any official capacity for several reasons, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the world to know that you’re his that someone’s already taking care of your needs, thoroughly, and we all know that he’s more than petty enough to leave you in a state that just screams ‘I got my soul fucked clean outta my body last night’ lmao. So if you start talking about someone else just a touch too much, or mention a colleague that reads as just a little too friendly for his liking he’ll pipe you down good and make sure that you’re damn near crawling out of the house the next day.

Yeah, he’s a petty, possessive prick—what about it?

Body Part || Favorite body part, on them as well as their partner.

On him it’s probably his cock.

Are you honestly surprised? Because you really shouldn’t be lmfao.

Look, Dabi knows that other people find him attractive, but for the half-dead life of him he can’t figure out why? He is a literal burn victim, half of his skin has been seared away and what little there is left is attached with fucking staples. He thinks we’re all a bunch of weird ass freaks, but luckily for us all he’s into that shit lmao. That said any confidence he has in his looks is derived from the thirst of others. It’s a hollow thing, but given everything else he has on his brain he doesn’t feel the need to delve into that shit too deeply. If his doll thinks he’s attractive, he’s not going to argue—after all, you’re the one that has to look at/fuck him. If you like your men burnt all to be damned and homicidal then who tf is he to judge?

Whatever confidence he does or does not have in his looks is irrelevant once he gets you between the sheets—or against the wall or on the couch or maybe even bent over the balcony’s railing, the cool night air caressing the whole of your very much exposed body… (yeah, our mans is an exhibitionist among other things, but more on that in ‘K’). He knows his stroke game is on point, knows how to roll his hips and angle his dick so that it hits that spot that makes you see stars every time… Even if he wasn’t so damn talented he’s sure that it wouldn’t take much to bring a mf to their knees; he’s long and thick and curved just so and yeah… Dude slangs cock, and he does it damn well.

On you it’d have to be your chest.

It doesn’t matter what you have going on there, your chest is his new favorite pillow. If you ask him about it, he’ll play it off with some lewd remarks—as well as a few gropes and tweaks at your nipples for good measure. He wants you both to think it’s just an extension of his physical attraction to you, and that is indeed a part of it, but…

Look he loves really likes you, yeah? You’re one of the few people he feels at ease with, probably the only one in the entirety of the whole ass world that he lets his guard down around. Just existing in the same space as you is enough to calm his racing thoughts, and touching you… Sometimes you blue screen him with your sweet, casual touches, ngl. He wishes he could say that he didn’t know how touch starved he was before meeting you, but that’s something he’s been keenly aware of since childhood. We all know the shit his snatchbag of a father* got up to, so I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t have the best relationship with touch. Outside of sex he’s one to actively avoid it at all costs as it hurts too much—physically, emotionally, and mentally—to entertain otherwise.

But like with most walls he’s built, this is just yet another one that you scaled without ever actively trying.

All it took was for him to crack, just a little bit, to seek your hand only to be offered so much more for him to start craving your touch. And you’re always so, so damn gentle with him, both physically and emotionally; he knows that he never has to worry about pain or rejection or anything of the kind when he comes to you. He starts off hesitant, with his temperament being akin to that of a beaten dog, but once he realizes that he can trust (not only in you, but also in himself to not screw things up) it’s a thing that he actively seeks out with varying degrees of desperation.

But no matter how he comes to you, things oftentimes end with his head pillowed against your chest.

Why? Because that’s where your heart is.

The beat of it reverberates with all of the care and warm feelings you for some odd as hell reason harbor for him. He just cannot get over the fact that you love?? him the way that you do. And while he knows that your heart isn’t actually the organ that’s responsible for all that he, like most people, has been conditioned to associate these emotions with it nonetheless. Those metronomic thuds that lulls him into a contented puddle are just further proof to how much you care, and he lives for that shit–

–that this also gives him ease of access to some of your more sensitive areas is just a bonus…

*Given the state of this fandom I feel the need to say that while I don’t like Endeavor, I absolutely fuck with his fans ((and tbh I’d totally let him wreck my shit because GODDAMN, god-fucking-bless the Todoroki genes, tho I’d probably feel bad about it later lmaooo)). Like who you like, my good dudes, this is a safe space lol…

Cum || Anything to do with cum…

Lbr—Dabi’s definitely the type of asshole to cum all over you regardless of how you feel about it.

That said, if you really don’t like it and make that clear then he’ll refrain from cumming on you (dude’s not a complete asshole, at least not when it comes to you), but your sheets are fucked. What? He’s gotta finish somewhere, esp. if he’s fucking you raw and you have a womb. Doesn’t matter how much protection you use, his first instinct is always gonna be to pull out and empty his balls onto something less perilous. And since you don’t want it on you or in your mouth then the sheets really are his only alternative.

I mean yeah, he could cum into his hand or a tissue or something, but lmao—no.

If you are down, however, he absolutely loves to make a mess of you, but will bitch to no end if you dare to do the same to him. Don’t let that stop you tho; he just likes to complain for the sake of complaining (I would not be surprised to find that he has a kink for his own damn voice, tbh), but in all honesty he couldn’t care less. Reduce him to a sweaty, cum-stained mess and he’ll adore you just that little bit more. Just know that he will get you back next time, fair’s fair after all…

Dirty Secret || Pretty self-explanatory—a dirty secret of theirs.

I picture Dabs as being the type to put all of his shit out there p. much from jump and he expects you to do the same.

The way he sees it, if you’re fucking on the regular you might as well know what your partner does and does not like. It keeps things from getting awkward and potentially dangerous down the line, plus it makes things a thousand times more fun/exciting when he (or you) tosses in something new into your sessions at random. Keeps things fresh and suitably spicy.

That said the thing he thinks to be the dirtiest secret of all is his feelings for you.

Dabi knows who and what he is and makes no apologies for it—usually. Prior to you he never once bothered with any self-examination, and why should he have? What do labels like ‘hero’ and ‘villain’ matter when people on both sides of the line don’t seem to have any compunction about crossing it whenever it suits them? It’s actions, not words, that he places his trust in.

Life has shown him that it’s always a matter of ‘when’, not ‘if’ when it comes to literally everybody and their motivations. People’ll always hang themselves if you give them enough of the proverbial rope that is time—and honestly he isn’t any different, though he likes to think himself better. He doesn’t hide behind smiles and genial conversation and all those other bullshit social constructs that people like All Might like to put on to make the masses feel at ease; though he’ll never admit to it ever he’s like his father in that way. His smirk is lined with stilettos and his words are just as sharp and vicious. What you see with Dabi is what you get, and he doesn’t make for a very pretty picture.

Nobody in their right mind would ever want to get close to him, so it really freaks him out when you start showing signs of wanting him around for more than his pipework, like…

Are you a Commission plant, luring him into a false sense of security with copious amounts of orgasms and what is frankly the best damn sex he’s ever had in his life? Or perhaps you’re the family member of one of the many asshats he’s killed but never bothered with remembering their name if he ever knew it in the first place? Maybe you’re something far more twisted than even he, and you plan on trapping him in a dank basement somewhere so you can do all types of unsexy things to his charred body in the name of pseudo-science.

He’s not sure what your motivations are, but your walls are too fuckin’ good to give up without a damn good reason, so… He’s pretty sure he can take you if need be, so it’s fine.

But then it turns out you’re fueled by something that’s far too terrifying for him to have ever considered—you’re actually interested in him. As in him-him, as in Touya-him (tho naturally you don’t know to put that label on it, on him, no one does, he’s made damn sure of that).

What’s worse is that some ill-advised part of him wants to give you exactly what you looking for. He knows that he can’t, obviously—that’d put both of you in far more danger than you’re already in—but at the same time he’s in things too deep to just fuck off now. But he should, he really, really should. You’re too damn good for him, for this shitheap of a world, honestly. Who is he to come along and sully you? To drag you down in this pit of hatred and death that he’s dug himself into, to stain your skin with his blood soaked hands? Not once before you, not fucking once, did he ever give a shit about the lengths he had to go to in order to get his revenge, but now…

He’s not stupid enough to think he has a right to absolution, doesn’t allow himself to wish for a remission of sins committed—it’s too late in the game for that shit—but he does wish that he had met you sooner. He has no idea when would’ve been a good time—maybe once upon another life, when you were both still kids, smiling and carefree, but that’s a past that never was. Your lives wouldn’t have synced up back then, hell they barely fit together now; your shared harmony is more cacophonous than anything, but he finds that he loves the clamor. Still, maybe if you’d been the one to find him once Enji had abandoned him then maybe he wouldn’t have devolved into the man he is today. He knows that you would’ve extended him a hand without hesitation, giving him shelter and solace, sweet as you are, as you’ve always been…

But in the same way that he knows that you would have loved him, even then, he knows that there’s no point in focusing on what could have been since it was not. But a man can still dream, yeah? And he’s taken to doing that a lot more since meeting you. Sometimes, when he allows his mind to wander it conjures up images of a future with you by his side. They’re never plausible, and how can they be when his skin is as smooth as porcelain and his mother is smiling and you’re wearing a ring and taking his name, a name that he himself is somehow okay with? Silly, stupid, painful fantasies, but a man can dream…

He wishes it was just the bomb ass sex, that he could mourn and move on from, but you’re under his skin and steadily moving deeper, settling into his very bones. He knows that he should get out now, before it’s too late and he really fucks things up in one way or another, but… If he’s being honest (and really he’s gonna have to get on that shit sooner rather than later) he knows that he’s already ventured well beyond the point of no return. All he can do now is hope and pray that he doesn’t take you with him when he inevitably burns himself alive in his quest for vengeance.

Experience || How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?

I personally canon Dabi as a big ol’ ho, but like only sometimes lol. He’s v. focused on his goals, so his sex drive takes a backseat more often than not, but when he does allow his carnal desires to come to the forefront…

Is slanging his thang all over town the safest option given how many wanted lists he’s on? Hell no, but nobody’s ever accused him of making quality life choices.

He fucks, and he fucks a lot. And since practice makes perfect, well… I think it’s safe to say he damn well knows what he’s doing.

Favorite Position || What it says on the tin.

CW for v. brief mentions of neck grabbing, spanking, and general rough treatment, but like ~lightly so~ lol (Reader receiving).

One hundo percent his all-time favorite is hitting it from the back.

Just the thought of you on your hands and knees, back arched and throwing it back like your gd life depends on it is *chef’s kiss* He will absolutely grab a fistful of your hair, or better yet get a hand around your cute lil neck, and just lay into you. Also expect lots of smacks to your ass because he loves to hear you squeal for him.

Other than that he does like having you ride him, preferably in that good reverse cow ish. Look he’s an ass man, okay? He loves having your cheeks pressed against him, gets off on sinking his fingertips into the flesh of your undulating hips hard enough to bruise. He’s taken in by the wave that your body makes as you fuck him, the light sheen of sweat that coats your back. Don’t be surprised to feel his fingers tracing patterns into the mist, patterns that may seem nonsensical to you, but if you were able to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of his cock hollowing you out you’d realize were declarations of devotion, possession (mine-Mine-MINE).

Rounding out the top three is spooning. He thinks it’s sappy of him, but like… Having your back pressed against his chest as he lazily pumps into you is everything tbh. He only does this in the wee hours of the morning, when you’re both caught in the haze that exists between slumber and waking. His hands are unexpectedly soft—cautious—as he settles your leg over his and slides into you, your shared rhythm languid as you enjoy being connected so intimately. This is one of the only times he’ll allow himself to say that he loves you, though he’s only mouthing it against you neck, his voice caught in his throat, the muscles there strangling the words before they can dare to breach the air. Saying it aloud would manifest it, or so his thinking goes, and he can’t afford for such sentiments to be real. Not when he is who he is, not when he knows how things are destined to end for him.

He’s a cruel bastard, and no doubt about it. He’s already taken so much from you, but to force you to bear the burden that is his feelings for you is a step beyond. Even the most fucked up of villains have their hard limits. There aren’t many lines left in his life at this point, but this is certainly one of them—perhaps it truly is the only one left, he honestly isn’t sure anymore, but whatever the case may be it’s the only one that he’ll never dare to cross…

Goofy || Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, relaxed, etc.

Dabi laughs a fair bit in bed, but it’s usually at you and not with you.

His chuckle is a dark and rolling thing that curls around and flows through you to leave you a flustered mess every time without fail. He’s such a cruel and teasing bastard, but in the best of ways. He’s always taunting you, making you beg—but we’ll get into all of that in ‘U’.

Aside from that, he lands on the more… not really serious side, it’s more so that he’s really focused on what he’s doing. He’s more worried about getting the reactions that you’re both craving, so if that means he’s gotta hit you with a witty one-liner that’ll leave you snickering then so be it. That’s rarely the vibe with him tho, so don’t expect to be laughing too often…

…well unless he decides to tickle you.

He’s got a bit of a sadistic streak on him, so sometimes he’ll just start feathering his hands along your ticklish areas while he’s giving you head and it’s so weird? Like bruh wtf?? Asshole just likes to get a rise out of you, plus there’s the bonus of having you writhing harder than usual; fucker gets off on you struggling, ig. But what’s really annoying is how strong he is. Looking at him you wouldn’t think he could pin your hips down with one hand, but fuck around and find out lol. He’ll somehow manage to keep you in place, his mouth still putting in that good work, while his other hand keeps on tickling you and it’s annoying as hell. Luckily he’ll stop before things get too uncomfortable, but still. He doesn’t know why you put up with his irritating ass, but he’s glad that you do.

Lol, jk, he know his dick bomb and you couldn’t stay away even if you wanted to, which let’s be real—you don’t. Dabi’s a mistake that most people are all too eager to make at least twice. It’d be sad if he wasn’t likewise hooked on you, but good luck trying to get him to admit to that shit aloud unless you tie his smug, bratty ass up and fuck the confession outta him, but I digress…

Hair || How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.

Given that his cock is still intact and functional it’s probably a safe guess to say he still has pubes? Maybe?? Idk, his skin grafts are weird, man. If he does I can see him keeping that shit trimmed just because it’d get on his nerves otherwise. That you benefit from it is just a happy bonus.

He dyes his hair—or at least he did—so the curtains don’t usually match the drapes. Actually, even without the dye it doesn’t match. Idk what fucking color his hair actually is; when he was little it was red and now it’s white, like??? I’ve since been informed that his hair started going white when he was a kid due to some medical reasons which more than likely means that all of his hair has since followed suit, but, I refuse to let go of the crimson pubes theory because that shit’s funny af to me. A weird hill to die on, but I’m making my stand nonetheless.

But seriously tho, just imagine seeing him naked for the first time, like… He’s expecting you to be put off by all the staples and charred skin, but all you can focus on is that damned thatch of red hair lmao. When you inevitably question him about it (and how can you not, it’s just. So. Red.) he’ll just roll his eyes and tell you you’re a fucking weirdo–

“But if you’re that interested, doll, you might as well get a lil closer. Open that pretty little mouth of yours and I’ll make sure you get a real good look.”

Intimacy || How are they during the act, the romantic aspect…

If it’s just a hit it and quit it type deal he’s getting himself off and getting gone. If he’s feeling generous he might be inclined to stick around long enough for the other person to cum too, but tbh he’s one of those “Well I got mine” kind of assholes lol. Luckily for his past partners, Dabi’s good with his hips so they usually ended up getting off without him having to do anything extra.

But you, you’re his baby, so your pleasure is his pleasure and vice versa. Dabi’s version of romance isn’t that typical gooey sweet fluff that one might attribute to the word (tho it can be in those rare moments of softness that become far more common the deeper he falls into it with you), but more so in his attentiveness. His aftercare can use some work, but when he’s in the moment? You’ll never feel more cared for. It doesn’t matter how rough and nasty things get you’re always gonna feel safe in his hands, he’ll made damn sure of it.

One bit of softness that he indulges in more regularly is hand holding. Missionary is a position that you always end up in at some point during just about every session, and when you do he’ll thread his fingers between yours and it’s just so sweet? Well usually. Sometimes it’s this tender thing, others he’s using this connection to pin your hands down as he fucks you hard and deep. But regardless of which it is, there’s always gonna be something soft syruping around in his eyes, an amalgamation of emotions too complicated to parse out, but easily defined by a four lettered word that he’s still too scared to say.

Jack Off || The Masturbation Headcanon™

I know I said he was a ho before, but like he also has his shit in check.

Dabi’s a man on a mission and he’s not gonna let his libido get in the way of that. He’s got shit to do, yanno? He’s only out there wetting his dick when he has the time to, and when he doesn’t he’s usually too focused on whatever it is he’s doing to worry about being horny. Once he’s got the time to actually focus on such things he doesn’t actually jack it all too often. It’s not like it’s hard for him to find a partner to lend him a helping hand, or willing hole as is his preference.

Oddly enough once you two are a thing he actually finds that he has to masturbate more often as finding a random for a hook up somewhere nearby is no longer an option, and you’re not always a viable option (be that because of distance, his needing to lay low and not drag the law to your doorstep, etc.).

Masturbating isn’t overly enjoyable for him, in fact he actually gets p. annoyed when he has to resort to it. He’d much rather be buried inside you than thrusting into his own hand, but again that isn’t always possible. Sometimes his activities keep you apart for long stretches of time, and even when you’re together sometimes you’re just not in the mood, or too tired or whatever and that’s okay too; it’s not as if he expects you to fuck on command or anything like that.

When he has to take care of himself it’s a pretty efficient affair. He’ll lube himself up and get to work, moving at the pace he knows will get him off the quickest, his mind digging through the vast catalog that is his spank bank until he finds something that does it for him. Unless he’s trying to entice/tease you he’s actually quiet, usually biting down on his shirt to muffle any stray moans and hisses that manage to slip through. Though he’d like to blame practicality for all of this, really the habit was picked up back when he was still under his father’s tutelage. Enji believed such activities to be distractions, but knowing that the release would be necessary for the growing boy he basically told him to get it over with as swiftly as possible and yeah…

Sheeeesh, there’s just so much to unpack there, isn’t it? From what I’ve gathered it seems as if Endeavor has some type of familial redemption arc going on, and good on him for trying to make things right even if it’s well after the damage has been done (it’s never too late to do better, after all), but still… At least let Dabi kick him in the gooch one good time. (Yes, I am vaguely aware of what he actually did do, and it was fucked, which is why I’m offering this alternative lol.)

Kink || One or more of their kinks.

CW for detailed descriptions of choking, fear play and all that entails (including a v. brief mention of knifeplay as well as shades of CNC), as well as degradation and all that entails (including a v. brief mention of spit). Exhibitionism is also a thing that’s discussed. These are all found in their respective sections (tho the fear play naturally blurs into the choking bit as well).

Unsurprisingly this fucker is kinky as hell. It should be said now that these particular kinks are… a bit more extreme/dark in nature. Aside from the cock warming that I threw in at the end because I am a self-indulgent little shit, exhibitionism is the mildest one on the list, so that should tell you something lol. So if you read the title and think ‘Yeah, no, that’s not for me’, then yeah, no, it’s not for you.

That said anything mentioned here would only be engaged in if all parties involved are abundantly enthusiastic and willing because while Dabi may be a giant fucking asshole—by both consensus as well as his own admission—he is not one for forcing shit like this. That would be v. wrong and unsexy of him, and he’s not with that fuckery.

Anyways!

I don’t have the time to lay out everything I think he’d be into, but a top five (made in no true order) list seem to be the best way for me answer this one in the most succinct manner possible, so without further ado, leggo.

1 || Exhibitionism

CW for—you guessed it!—public sex. …It should also be said that ya boy isn’t above making death threats (and promptly following through on them) if someone takes issue with him taking you…

This asshole is the type to take you any time and any place. Clubs, back alleys, on the gd train—he really does not give a fuck (well, he’s certainly giving you the fuck, but you know what I mean). If someone’s foolish enough to try to confront you he won’t hesitate to reduce them to cinders, if he can do so without drawing the attention of any cops or heroes, naturally. He’s not too keen on the prospect of either of you doing time, especially for something as lame as this. Thankfully it hasn’t ever come to that as usually all he has to do is flash a palmful of blue flames and folk know to back the fuck off.

Potential for homicide aside, he loves the thrill that comes with doing something so inherently taboo. Plus he’s a giant fucking showoff. He knows that there isn’t any other person out there that can do what he can, no one else who can lay claim to your body as masterfully as he, and he wants the world to know it too.

Annnnd there’s also a not-so-small part of him that wants the world to know that you’re his just as much as he’s yours, but shhhhh, we don’t talk about that bit lol… If you thought you saw his softer side showing shut the fuck up no you didn’t. >.>

2 || Choke me like you hate me, but you love me~

CW/TW for choking, obviously lol…

This one’s p. self-explanatory, I think. Dude likes having his hands around your neck, plain and simple. He relishes the deep, creeping fear that syrups around in your teary eyes, lives for the way you gasp and writhe under his grip…

If you let him he’ll squeeze until the delicate skin there blooms with bruises that match the curve of his palm; until you’re clawing desperately at his hand, your rapidly constricting lungs begging for just a sip of oxygen; until those pretty little eyes roll back and you cum so hard that you go limp under his still rutting hips…

Yeah, as you can imagine safe words/actions are very much a thing you have to incorporate into your sessions.

And with turnabout being fair play, as they say, he’s v. much down for you returning the favor. Go as hard as you like because homie can take it just as good as he gives it—in fact if you’re not squeezing tight enough he’ll grab your hand in a bid to get you to shore up your grip. He won’t be happy until his vision is dancing with little black spots and his lungs have all but emptied out.

Naturally this isn’t something he’ll engage in to this degree unless he has the full trust of his partner and vice versa.

3 || Fear Play

CW/TW for brief mentions of stalking (in a predator/prey kinda way), knifeplay, and what can pass as CNC if ya squint.

Were he more introspective he might worry about what this particular kink says about him.

Like he adores you, right? Always wants you to be happy and safe and smiling��

But on the other hand your fear is so deliciously beautiful.

It should feel like breaking you, seeing the terror that etches itself into every part of your being when you play like this—it does feel like breaking you, and maybe that’s part of the appeal. Even if you’re a villain yourself, Dabi is convinced that you will never be as wicked a creature as he. It doesn’t matter if you just went on a whole ass killing spree and are still covered in the resulting blood—he sees you as something better, something more. So to rip into that perception, to turn you from a thing to be protected into prey… It just hits different and oh-so-good and god, he really is fucked up isn’t he? But he knew that already and so did you, so there’s no point in shying away from it now.

It doesn’t matter if he’s stalking you through the city’s seedy back alleys, sneaking through your window and breathing a threat into your ear as he presses a nearly scalding hand over your mouth when you least expect it, or fucking you with a blade just millimeters from sinking into your flesh—he’s gonna revel in your fear, licking away your tears as he promises not to hurt you too bad–

“–so long as you keep being my good little doll. Now whimper for me some more, sweetheart…”

4 || Degradation

CW for exactly what it says on the tin. Dabi’s a mean SOB, so name calling, rough treatment, and humiliation are all par the course.

Dabi can be downright mean when he wants to be—which honestly is like 87% of the time. Definitely the type to step on you while calling you all sorts of names (whore, slut, cocksleeve, needy bitch, just his little hole to fuck), maybe rough you up a bit, spit in your mouth…

Yeah, shit gets nasty.

Of course he’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with, so expect a very involved conversation about boundaries and limits once you start getting that work on the regular. He’ll also want to field test things right afterwards, if you’re that way inclined; if not he’s gonna go rub one out—very loudly, hell maybe even right in front of you because this asshole has NO shame, in hopes that it’ll get you hot enough to reconsider lmao…

This particular kink usually makes itself known in short order, but what a lot of people don’t know is that it goes both ways.

Tell him that he’s just your little fuck toy with no worth outside of the pleasure he can give you and he’ll damn near nut on the spot. Is this a healthy dynamic/coping mechanism? Nah, probably not and he knows it, but you can’t help what gets you hot, ya know? Were you anyone but who you are to him he doesn’t think that he’d be okay with it, honestly, but he feels safe with you. He knows that you see him as something more than a thing to be used, that you’re just as deep into things as he is, and that allows for him to explore this space.

If you do decide to indulge him, don’t do so too frequently. He’s five feet and nine inches of emotional baggage, so that which is cathartic can just as easily turn poisonous if not handled with care. Honestly this is something that only someone who really knows what they’re doing should attempt, imo. At any rate, when you finish the session make sure that you love up on him extra good because he’s gonna drop hard and he’ll really need the reassurance and care.

5 || Cockwarming

Think of this as a little palate cleanser after all that deliciously dark sinning lmao.

This is a kink that he didn’t know he had until the first time you guys did it, and said time wasn’t even on purpose—he was just too tired and injured to fuck you properly, but being the stubborn asshole that he is he insisted on trying anyway. Cue him plopping you down on his lap, but not being able to lift his hips because separated ribs are a goddamn fucking bitch. You were ready to end things there, maybe get him off with a lil suck and tug before finishing yourself off and calling it a night, but…

He held you in place, a dreamy look on his face that you would’ve attributed to the painkillers he’d gotten from god knows where, but his breathing had deepened and his dick was kinda twitching inside of you?? Ofc this set your walls to fluttering around him, which in turn got him going even more and yeah. Y’all got caught up in that loop of gentle pleasure real quick lol.

That first time he was content to just lay there with you until he finally dozed off. It was v. cute and intimate and all that good noise, but as you’ve probably guessed that’s the exception not the rule. Pretty much every time since then has involved him being a teasing little shit. He’ll play with your clit/cock just enough to get you to shuddering around him, but not enough to cum; those wicked and clever fingers of his opposite hand will be just as busy, either with keeping your hips still or with groping at your body and playing with your nipples. It really is just a whole ass terrible thing, but you’re here for it.

He especially likes to do this when he wants to get it in but you have work to do. It’s an incentive to work faster and more efficiently, or so he says, just a promise of things to come once your responsibilities have been sorted. You know he’s playing you, with his smug little shit-eating smirk, but dammit if you’re not gonna let it happen lol.

But ofc it’s not all teasing. He really does adore you and sometimes he just wants you close. When he’s in his feelings like this he’ll lay back with you on his chest, cock buried deep as he runs his hands along your spine with slow, measured strokes. Return the favor by playing with his hair or running gentle fingers along the lines of his scars and you’ll damn near bring him to tears. And if you hum/sing to him—game fucking over. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re any good or not, he’s gonna be so fucking enamored with you that he’ll swear he’s being serenaded by a chorus of heavenly beings. A bit fanciful, that, but it makes sense to him—whether you know it or not, you’re his angel, the one saving grace he has in this fucked up world…

Location || Favorite places to do the deed.

Anywhere he can get it in is his favorite place, tbh. But if you just force him to pick it’s definitely gonna be your home. Doesn’t matter where in said home, but like…

Deep down Dabi just wants a bit of domestic bliss. Given what he is he knows that’s not exactly possible, but that doesn’t stop him from playing at it whenever he gets the chance. You’ve made it clear that your home is his home too, and dammit if that’s not all he’s ever wanted. He has a place here, space to stretch and grow and be himself, flaws and all. He has no idea how you do it, or why you do it for that matter, but he’s so very grateful nonetheless.

Ten times out of ten whenever he’s taking you at your spot his mind’ll conjure up imaginings of a different sort of life, one where the pair of you can be together without any fear or baggage weighing you down. It’s an alternate reality that will never come to pass, he knows, but it’s still nice to think about…

Motivation || What turns them on/gets them going?

Touch him.

That’s it, that’s all I got folks. Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk. Get home safe.

But really, this boy is touched starved all to be damned, so simple touches really can do him in. He’s not a horny teenager, so you’re (usually) not gonna get him going from a simple brush of skin against skin, but tbh if you’re touching him with any sort of affection he’s gonna get at least a little turned on. It’s not his fault—you’re, well, you. You’re beautiful, both inside and out, and he’s so damn taken with you that he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself half the time. Add to that the fact that he hasn’t had anyone touch him with any level of warmth since he was a v. small child and…

Look, just don’t be surprised if every once in a while he pops a boner while you’re playing with his hair or something equally innocuous is all I’m saying.

The longer you’re together the less effect casual affectionate touches have on his libido, but let’s not get it twisted—dude’s still very touch motivated. Feather your fingers over the seams in his skin, run your tongue over the shell of his ear, or brush your ass against any part of him and he’ll be all over you within moments.

No || Something they’d never do/turn offs.

Though he’s a kinky fucker, the one thing he’ll never ever do is share you.

Dabi does not share—anything, at any time.

You’re his not really-but totally very much, definitely so partner and he’ll be damned if he gives some other asshole leave to even so much as glance at you with a hint of interest.

This is a two way street, btw. Once you’re unofficially official, he’s not fucking with anyone else. Hell that’s honestly how he knew he was in shit too deep. He tried chatting up some attractive rando outside of a club, but before he could get too into things all he could think was how much of a disloyal bitch he was being. How could he ever even consider looking at anyone that wasn’t you?

You, who’s too sweet and kind and beautiful both inside and out for their own damn good… You, who despite having excellent taste in literally every other aspect of your life, had chosen to lower yourself by allowing him into your world, your bed… You, with your cute smiles and annoyingly endearing habits and perfect body and delicious moans…

He’s too selfish a thing to warn you away from him, too self-indulgent to ever give you cause to send him away. So if that means keeping his dick outta anyone that isn’t you then so fuckin’ be it.

Oral || Preference in giving or receiving, skill level, etc.

At the start of things Dabi would rarely go down on you. The way he saw it, head was just something that was done to get his partners going. Most times he could get by with just a lil finger work, as the people he was hooking up with were usually already raring to go, and those first few times you weren’t much different. That heady mixture of adrenaline and genuine attraction coupled with the newness of things meant that it took very little to get you ready to take him, and that suited you both just fine for a while. Once things became a bit more habitual, however, he found himself wanting to give you something more.

Ngl, his first attempts were kinda clumsy and sloppy and rushed, but thankfully for you both Dabi’s a fast learner. He studied and cataloged your reactions with an astuteness fit to rival Midoriya (albeit with less muttering and notepads involved lmao). It doesn’t take long for him to figure out just what he needs to do to reduce you to a shaky mess within minutes.

But naturally receiving’s a different beast entirely—he’s been down for that shit from jump. Definitely loves to face fuck you, thinks the way you gag and drool around his cock is just *chef’s kiss* Will totally shove the whole of his length clean down your throat and just hold it there, enjoying the way the muscles flutter around its girth and your reflexive lil swallows, until your need for oxygen demands he pull back. But really he’s only gonna let you take a few shuddery breaths before he pushes back in because the sight of you about to knock out from sucking his cock is just too damn pretty. And he prefers his head sloppy, like grossly so, so don’t be embarrassed about how wet/messy things get, not that he’s gonna leave you much choice in the matter lol.

Pace || Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.

When you first start out, things are always rough, but the speed varies.

That very first time—back when he was still living in the blissful ignorance of thinking of you as nothing more than a casual hook up—he was ready to get in, get off, and get gone. But the minute he felt your warmth around his cock he knew he had to take his time with you. He went in hard and rough, but did it at a pace that had you begging for more damn near from jump (which just lead to him fucking you deeper, not faster, btw lol). What was only meant to be a twenty minute affair, tops, became an all-night thing that left you both exhausted, soaked, and sore. This became the norm for y’all for a while, with him only going at things super fast when your schedules demanded it.

As the pair of you got closer he found that he didn’t mind going a bit softer from time to time. At first he claimed he was just tossing you a bone, sparing your dignity so that you didn’t have too bad a limp that following day, but you knew better (just like you knew not to comment on this or any of the other little ways your not-a-relationship relationship had been evolving). Eventually you guys reach a place where pretenses are dropped and he can make love to you as slowly and sensually as you want without him falling too deeply into his head, but unsurprisingly it’s gonna take a while for you to get there.

Quickie || Their opinion on quickies versus proper sex, how often they indulge, etc.

He doesn’t really have strong feelings on them one way or the other.

Naturally he does prefer proper sex but sometimes all you have time for is a quickie, and that’s just that. As for how often it’s really just whenever your schedules demand it. Quickies aren’t something he goes out of his way to initiate, if anything he’d rather wait until he can give it to you good and proper, if you’re that way inclined. But sometimes you just need to get that work before work, he knows this, and is p. much always willing to oblige.

Risk || Are they game to experiment, take risks, etc.

As you’ve probably gathered from ‘K’, Dabi’s no stranger to risk and experimentation. Chances are if you wanna try it, he’s already done it at least once. He prefers a partner that can keep up with him, which doesn’t necessarily mean that he needs you to have a lot of experience—in fact he’d be lying if he said the thought of corrupting you a bit didn’t get him off—but rather that he wants someone who’s at least open to trying things, ya know? If you’re willing to meet him halfway, he’ll certainly hold up his end of things. Even if you end up not liking something he’ll be hella proud of you for making the attempt which will lead to him spoiling you and that’ll lead to him burying his head between your legs yet again and yeah…

Stamina || How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?

CW for talk of the aftermath of Dabi’s quirk trying to slow roast him. I don’t go into too much detail at all, but I thought I’d put this here just in case.

Providing he hasn’t been using his quirk too much beforehand his stamina’s pretty good; this is due in large part to his propensity for teasing. Dude can and will edge you for ridiculous lengths of time, be that with his mouth/fingers or cock. Nine times out of ten he will outlast you even if it’s purely out of spite lmao.

That said, he can definitely get on some Energizer Bunny shit if you catch him on the right day. Once you’re together-together he’s definitely the type to recharge between sessions with a break and lil snack or even a nap, all done so that he can fuck you until night bleeds into a new day. It should also be said that he isn’t above using a cock ring if his body looks like its gonna give up the ghost before he’s ready. But not every encounter can be a sex marathon, more’s the goddamn pity, in which case he’s good with just racking up a few orgasms between you before calling it for the night.

But looping back to how this all relates to his quirk—using his fire really takes it out of him, though you never knew how badly it affected him until you were p. deep in your relationship.

Your seeing him like that, all worn down and overheated, is the absolute last thing he wants, and the first time it happened it was completely by accident. Like he came to crash at your place because it was comfortable/safe, and he was fairly certain that you weren’t due back for several hours; by then he’d be mostly okay, or at least okay enough that he could write his sorry state off to general fatigue and not his body trying to cook itself alive. He was posted up in your bathroom tending to a seam that had partly ruptured when he heard you keying in. He knew that he didn’t have time to make himself presentable, so all he could do was hope that you’d just popped in to get something you’d forgotten before fucking off again.

But of course his luck had never been that good.

With no recourse left to him, he explained the intricacies of his quirk with a resigned sullenness, answering your questions and addressing your concerns as best he could. It ended up being a somewhat tense exchange because you were obviously concerned, as any loving partner would be, and the casual disregard he showed over it all was kind of maddening. Still, you knew that his lack of care was more of a coping mechanism that he’d probably never shake in full (unsaid was the fact that you were well aware that not even his love for you could keep him from throwing himself headlong into his goals). And so, instead of turning the whole thing into what would’ve been one hell of a nasty argument, you opted to help patch him up and cool him off as best you could and that was that.

Typically he isn’t really trying to fuck so soon after he’s roasted himself, but on the off chance that he really wants it he’ll let you take the reins. Please be gentle with him, he’s so fragile when he’s like this—both physically and emotionally. He’s risking so much in allowing you to see him in such a weakened state so please handle his trust with care.

Toy || Do they own toys? Do they use them on themselves or their partner?

Honestly he’s not super into them.

Like he’s not against them and will use them from time to time, but he prefers to be the sole provider of your pleasure. So unless you’re doing something that absolutely requires outside aid he’s not gonna break out the toy box.

That said the pair of you do acquire a small collection—mostly vibes, a few plugs, some cock rings, rope, blindfolds. It’s all p. basic stuff, with the wildest thing being a spreader bar, which again is on the milder side of the kinky scale, I think. He’ll also get you a strap if you don’t have a dick of your own because while he prefers to be in charge a good portion of the time, he cannot deny that he lives for the days when you bend his bratty ass over and take him to task.

Unfair || How much they like to tease.

Dabi is a huge goddamn tease. I would invite you to try to change my mind if I wasn’t spitting straight up facts.

Your only real saving grace is that he doesn’t have the willpower to (completely) deny you for as long as he’d like. He loves to hear you whine way too much, lives for the way your tears of desperation streak that pretty little face… All it takes is for you to give in just a little and he’ll give you what you want—tho it may not come in the form you want. Were you begging to cum on his tongue? Well get ready to orgasm again and again and a-fucking’-gain. He’ll stop when he thinks you’ve had enough. Getting all weepy because you need his cock? He’ll grind it against you for what feels like forever, content to keep you on the edge and those tears flowing.

Conversely he loves a brat too. Breaking your kind is always so damn satisfying, but even if you’re able to hold out he’s gonna be all too ready to pipe you down because that type of defiance is just plain ol’ H O T . You think you can take his cock without breaking? Well get ready to eat those words as well as a copious amount of cum because he’s gonna fuck that smart lil mouth of yours until you go hoarse. Every other hole you’ve got is getting the exact same treatment, btw, so I hope you’re ready to be reduced to a walking wet spot. Or maybe he won’t give you the honor of his touch, maybe he’ll just tie you up and force you to watch as his long, slender fingers run along his thick shaft. He’ll keep going until you apologize and ask nicely for him to stuff you like the good little doll he knows you want to be. If you’re smart you’ll give in sooner rather than later, because once he empties his balls things are only gonna get worst for your bratty ass (which, lbr, is probably what you both want lol).

No matter what the deal is the teasing never really stops, but rather it switches gears. He’ll get at you for being such a needy little thing, so desperate for the least touch. All of your sounds of pleasure are like music to his ears, your writhing poetry in motion, but that won’t stop him from telling you how damn sad it is that you can’t even catch his dick without making a spectacle of yourself. God, he just so damn mean, but clearly we’re all here for it.

So TL;DR—he’s a teasing little shit from start to finish, but honestly would you want it any other way?

Volume || How loud are they? What sounds do they make?

Dabi’s not quiet nor is he overly loud—well, unless he’s trying to prove a point.

You want to get back at your shitty neighbor who loves to blast their music at crackhead hours? He’ll position your bed so that it’s right against the connecting wall before starting up that good headboard drumline lol. He’ll definitely make sure that that asshole knows both your names by sunup. Also isn’t above calling up any of your old flames or anyone else that may be looking to hook up with you so that they can hear how a real man takes his lover. ((Ugh, he so damn petty—I love it.))

When he’s not being performative his volume is p. standard, rising and falling with the session’s vibe. He’s definitely a talker, as we’ve established by now, but when he’s not busy running his mouth he makes some of the sexiest sounds ever. Moans that ripple along your spine, dark little chuckles that settle their weight into your gut, sighs and hisses that leave you clamping around him just to hear more… I’m honestly not sure which is hotter, but it’s all just as well as you never have to choose. If he’s feeling good—which he always is whenever he’s with you like this—then you’re damn well gonna know about it.

Wild Card || Get a random headcanon of my choosing.

One day long ago when the League was young, Toga and Jin wrote a really spicy friend fic (oh who am I kidding—that shit was straight up smut) about Dabi and Shiggy. That in itself is bad enough, yeah, but naturally that disaster duo had to take it a step further by reading it aloud to their little core group.

Or at least they tried to.

Naturally the MCs, being who they were, chose violence instantly. Meanwhile Twice kept making clones of Toga who had internalized the story and was reciting it by rote. By the time Dabi caught up to the main instigator (knife wife) and Shiggy got majority of his hand on clone husband they’d gotten pretty far into their tale. With the threat of just straight up death so close and quite literally at hand the pair relented, but it was a real Pandora’s Box situation for the two young men. It was weeks before they could look each other in the eye again lmao. But who could blame them? That shit was so damn graphic and detailed and annoyingly well written.

Neither of them could understand why the pair had thought so much about them fucking, and more disturbingly why they knew exactly what their dick measurements were? Like… how???

It didn’t help matters that there was always– not exactly attraction per se on Dabi’s part, but dude’s a thrill seeker. Fucking a guy that could end you with a single touch? Kinda hot. Meanwhile Shigs hadn’t ever considered the burned man to be anything more than a useful pawn/royal pain in his ass, but once the thought was planted he couldn’t not notice how infuriatingly attractive the fucker actually was. Needless to say he stamped that out real quick for several reasons, not least of all because to do anything less would mean that those two asshats won and he couldn’t have that lol.

Though their leader made them swear to stop writing that ‘weird ass, Google search page 76, freaky ass bullshit’ that didn’t stop the authors, tho they were smart enough to keep it away from their muses and really that’s the best anyone could hope for.

(Meanwhile Kurogiri out here really considering publishing some of their stuff—modified so as not to reveal anything of note—to help fund their schemes lmfao…)

X-Ray || How do they look with their clothes off?

Dick piercings.

That’s it, that’s all I got.

Honestly I would’ve thought that he’d never voluntarily want to get more bits of metal shoved into his flesh, but his numerous other piercings says otherwise. Personally I prefer him with a Jacob’s ladder, but whichever combo you find hottest he’ll totally rock. Freaky lil shit prolly has nipple piercings and a tongue ring too 😩

Aside from all of that he’s about what you’d expect. Thin, but fit, a mosaic of burns and flesh and scars, and a big ass dick lol. I just know his dick big y’all, I know it—I feel it in my guts heart. Dude’s totally got that big dick lean and the attitude to match and damn if he doesn’t have what it takes to back it all up…

Yearning || How high is their sex drive?

I’d say it’s about typical for a guy his age, tho it does fluctuate. Like I said back in ‘J’, he’s got his shit in check. When he’s focused on his… uhh, work? I guess we’ll call it?? he’s got himself on lock. Wrapped up in his goals as he is, he isn’t exactly worried about getting his dick wet during those times, tho once he goes from an ‘I’ to a ‘we’ that dogged focus wavers on occasion. It usually only happens when he’s missing you more than usual, which only happens when you’re apart for an extended period of time. This’ll lead to him rubbing one out if he can’t get to you directly before getting back to the (other) grind.

His sex drive’s probably at its peak when he’s frustrated. Before you came along this would usually end with him going on a sex jag—which to be fair he still does, but all of his energy and desires are focused on you and that is a terrifying/sexy position to find yourself in. When he gets like this your best bet is to take some sick leave or vacation days or w/e, stock up on lube, and order some groceries because your ass is gonna be bed-bound for the next couple of days at least.

Zzz || How quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?

It really just depends. Some days he’s hella tired and will be halfway knocked out before he even fully pulls out, others he’ll be weirdly alert—like ‘I’m gonna go play Dark Souls, call out if you need me’-levels of alert—and others still he’ll be content to drift in the blissful languor that comes with the afterglow, holding you close and sharing breaths and kisses and sweet little whispers as he finally, finally allows himself to admit freely that he loves you.

Your arms are his home now and he can only hope that they’ll never drop, that you’ll never turn him away…

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

[rae-arts777]

because i'm a sucker for a fake dating AU, 7 & soudam? or kuzuhina? or any DR ship your heart desires babe

Kuzuhina cause I love you Bryn

(Btw this is NOT a short fic hahaha, I ended up writing 2288 words)

He’s My Boyfriend, Yeah That’s it..

#7 Fake dating

Summary: Fuyuhiko needs a plus one

“Why?” Hajime felt like the yakuza was pulling his leg.

Did Fuyuhiko seriously ask him to hang out? More importantly, did he just ask him on a date?

“Listen bastard this isn’t exactly an ideal for me either.” The shorter male growled, “I hate attending these family functions alone.”

“Why don’t you just go with your girlfriend?” Hajime asked

“PEKO IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!” Fuyuhiko snapped, “I mean! Fuck! One she’s like my sister, we’re just close! Two she’s busy! I’m fucking proud she has her own plans rather then hovering over me! And I’m sure as hell not going to ruin that by asking her to come with me!” he explained

“Ok but why me? Aren’t you and Kaz really close?”

“Please that pink hair bastard won’t last a minute in a room full of yauzkas”

“Uhhhh….Nagito?”

“Is that a joke?”

Hajime sighed, guessing he really was Fuyuhiko’s most reliable option, “Ok fine, I guess it gives me an excuse to get out of the house.”

“Good, come on, we're going shopping.”

“I have a suit a home” Hajime protested

“No offense but I'm a hundred percent certain your suit is not suited for a yakuza gathering. Consider this as my thank you for dragging you to my shit family function.”

Before Hajime could protest further, Fuyuhiko grabbed his wrist and dragged him out. Despite the size difference, Fuyuhiko was surprisingly strong. Hajime sighed, he knew there was no point in protesting.

Hajime felt as if he tried on the whole store at this point. Every time he saw the price tag, he felt like he wanted to die. He felt a little bad for allowing Fuyuhiko to spend this much on him for a suit for a one time use.

Stepping out of the dressing room with the last outfit on, “Are we done yet?” Hajime groaned.

Fuyuhiko looked up from his phone and froze. Hajime for sure could pass for a common yakuza. Fuyuhiko cleared his throat and walked towards him.

“It’s missing something.” Fuyuhiko grabbed a red tie and applied it to the taller male.

Hajime felt tense with how close Fuyuhiko was. He watched as the shorter male took his time adjusting the tie.

“Umm..there..” Fuyuhiko turned him around to the mirror “You look good, better then nothing I guess.”

“Why do I feel like a sugar baby?” Hajime jokes.

“Oh shut the fuck up tall bastard.” Fuyuhiko handed his card to the retailer, “He’ll be wearing this out.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“I already have something picked out at home. I'll change when we get there.”

The retailer returned Fuyuhiko’s card, “Thank you for shopping with us.”

“Yeah thanks for the help.” He nodded, “Let’s go Hajime.” the yakuza walked out.

Hajime grabbed his bag and started to follow, but was stopped by the retailer.

“I just wanted to say, you and your boyfriend are super cute together.” She smiled.

“Boyfriend?” Hajime was taken back.

Did they seriously get mistaken for boyfriends? Did they act like boyfriends? Who else thought it? Should he correct her?

Hajime stared at the retailer who had a big smile on her face.

“....Thanks, yeah my boyfriend and I appreciate your help.”

“Shop with us again soon!” she waved him bye as he left.

Trying to catch up to Fuyuhiko, he felt his mind racing. Why didn’t she correct her? Why did it not bother him? Hajime shook his head. No, it was just easier to just say yes cause they have somewhere to be, no time to explain, yeah that’s it. Better she told Hajime and not Fuyuhiko.

The two arrived at the Kuzuryu manor. Fuyuhiko led Hajime inside, there were already a few guests.

“Just stay here.” Fuyuhiko sat him at a table, “I’ll be back in a second.”

Hajime looked around, it was hard to believe these were the people Fuyuhiko hung around with daily. Awkwardly he fidgeted with his hands, he was thirsty. There was a mini bar across the room, he just needed water. It wouldn’t hurt to get up for a few seconds for water.

Hajime made his way over the minibar. The bartender glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Who are you with?”

“Oh I’m just here with Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, I just wanted water.” Hajime explained.

The bartender sided with Hajime as he got the boy a glass of water.

“What are your relations to him?” Was this an interrogation?

Hajime hesitated “I’m...here as...his plus one…”

“A date?”

“Yes...date...he’s my...boy..friend.” Hajime drugged out. Shit he did it again.

“Boyfriend? Huh. Well guess you never know huh? Enjoy your evening.” The bartender turned to help another guest.

Hajime shuddered and took his water back to the table. Why did he say boyfriend? He could have just said friend. This was different from the store, the bartender will most likely tell Fuyuhiko something. Shit.

As Hajime’s mind was racing, he was pulled out from a tap on the shoulder.

“Hey.” Natsumi sat next to him.

“Oh, hey Natsumi '' Hajime sighed in relief, at least there was one more person there he knew.

“Did my dipshit brother drag you to this?” She asked.

“Well he needed a plus one, and I needed an excuse to get out of the house. So I sort of agreed to this.”

“I see, speaking of that asshole, where is he?”

“He said he needed to change real quick. I think he should be back soon.”

“Bastard! Leaving you here all alone! Sorry my brother dragged you on a sucky date. Come on, you’re coming with me.”

Before Hajime could protest, Natsumi was already dragging him away. How is it that he's been dragged by both Kuzuryu today?

Fuyuhiko returned to the table, dressed in a more fancy suit for the occasion. Real quick he noticed Hajime was gone.

“That fucking bastard!”

Fuyuhiko started to walk around looking for him. Deep down he was worried, he shouldn’t have left Hajime alone in a room full of people like this. God knows who he’s with. Scanning the room, Fuyuhiko’s eyes finally landed on Hajime, but his blood boiled.

Hajime is wrapped up in a group of Natsumi’s friends. A guy resting his hand on Hajime’s shoulder. It was clear the male was trying to flirt with Hajime.

Fuyuhiko stormed up to them, “Hey.” Just as the guy turned around, Fuyuhiko struck him in the jaw.

“Jesus Christ bro!” Natsumi yelled “Seriously?! Why are you attacking my friends?!”

“Well tell your fucking “friend” to keep his hands to himself!!” Fuyuhiko snapped.

Hajime flinched, shit he felt like this was a little bit of his fault.

“Why do you care so much?! Hajime is just trying to enjoy himself!”

“I care because-” wait, why did Fuyuhiko care so much? “Because…..” he grabbed Hajime’s arm and pulled him towards him “isn’t it obvious? I brought him as my date! Cause! We’re dating! Yeah! That’s it!” Fuyuhiko proclaimed, the heat rising on his cheeks.

Hajime felt his whole face turn red, did he hear him right? Natsumi looked between the two, studying both their faces.

“Oh. My bad bro I didn’t know!” She smirked at Hajime, “I’m surprised you didn’t mention you’re dating my brother.”

“Oh well...it’s..” hajime looked at Fuyuhiko “We just recently started dating!”

“Yeah!” Fuyuhiko chimed in, “We..started dating...this past week!”

“Yeah..uhhh, Fuyuhiko asked me out.” Hajime smirked a bit “I seriously never seen him so flushed, he was all so shy and nervous. Had a letter and everything. It was just so cute.”

“HUH?!” Fuyuhiko glared at him “I think you’re remembering things wrong! Yeah I asked you out but YOU were the one who was all shy! You guys should have seen him! The bastard was practically sobbing because he was so flustered.”

Natsumi smirked watching the two, “Please tell us more!”

“Yeah please do!” another person chimed in

“Where did he confess?”

“How long have you liked him?”

“Have you two gone on any dates yet?”

“So is he like your eye candy?”

“Wait, the boss likes men?”

Hajime and Fuyuhiko were bombarded with questions. The two looked at each other, well there was no turning back now.

The supposed yuzuka gathering turned into a hearing of Hajime and Fuyuhiko's love story, everyone was invested. The two tried to bounce off of each other’s stories, but also both tried to embarrass the other in some way.

“If I remembered correctly, you were the one staring at me in the locker rooms.” Hajime smirked

“Like hell I was! You’re one to talk! You’re not slick, you were practically drooling over me in there. Now that I think about it, you did tell Nagito that you liked me.” Fuyuhiko chuckled.

“Oh...well I do guess saying I like chihuahuas is the same thing.”

“THE FUCK YOU SAY?!”

The room busted out in laughter.

“Awww you two are just two cute.” Natsumi smiled, “I didn’t know bro was such a romantic!”

“Shut the fuck up you bitch.” Fuyuhiko growled.

Natsumi just smiled, “I have to say it was such an interesting story, but I think we’re all tired of hearing about your love life.”

Thank god, both of them sighed in relief.

“We want to see! So give us a kiss!”

“WHAT?!” Both of them yelled at her.

“Yeah, kiss him!”

“Kiss!”

“Come on!”

The whole room was chanting for them to kiss.

“I mean it’s natural for you two. YOU DID SAY your first kiss was in your classroom late at the end of a school day.” Natsumi snickered, “So is a simple kiss a problem?”

The two males looked at each other, feeling their cheeks turn red.

“Ok…” Hajime said

“No problem, no problem at all....” Fuyuhiko mumbled.

The two awkwardly faced each other. They fumbled with their hands not knowing where to place them. Fuyuhiko grumbled and rested his hand on Hajime’s waist. Awkwardly, Hajime draped his arms over Fuyuhiko’s shoulders. Hajime looked down at him, he never saw Fuyuhiko so nervous.

“Everyone is staring…” Hajime whispered.

“yeah...I know...can’t really turn back now..” Fuyhukio tried to avoid eye contact.

Hajime slowly leaded down, he felt Fuyuhiko’s grip tighten a bit around his waist. Testing the waters, Hajime brushed his lips against the yakuza, giving him one last chance to back out. Even though their lips were barely apart, the shorter one mumbled something the taller one could not pick up. Hajime was taken back when Fuyuhiko actually closed the gap.

Their lips felt awkward at first, smooshed against each other, but they worked with it. Hajime felt himself lean in deeper, as Fuyuhiko brought a hand up to cup Hajime’s cheek, trying to pull the taller male closer against him. The two almost forgot they were in a room filled with people watching him. Almost.

They quickly broke the kiss when they heard a flash of a camera. Fuyuhiko head shot around to see Natsumi holding her phone up with a shit eating grin.

“DELETE THAT!!!” Fuyuhiko screamed

“No thank you!” Natsumi ran off laughing.

Before he chased her, Fuyuhiko turned his attention to the crowd “WHAT?! You got what you wanted! Now fuck off!” He then ran off screaming at Natsumi to delete the picture.

The rest of the night is uneventful. Some people came up to congratulate Hajime and Fuyuhiko on their couple status.

Hajime could not stop thinking about the kiss though. He looked over at Fuyuhiko who was chatting with someone. It didn’t seem like the kiss was getting to him as much as it was to Hajime.

Hajime felt his heart tug a bit. He guessed the kiss did not mean much to Fuyuhiko. I mean why would it? They weren’t even dating. But also, what now? Were they going to stage some big breakup or something?

As the party ended, Fuyuhiko walked Hajime out to the car he had arranged to take Hajime home.

“So….that was something..” Fuyuhiko said.

“Yeah...sure it was..” Hajime looked down at his feet.

“Sorry..for forcing you into that silly narrivate.”

“Oh it’s nothing..I mean it was kind of fun...well I mean..I played along so yeah..” Hajime nervously chuckled.

“yeah ...yeah…”

“You know...funny enough, earlier that retail lady said you and I were cute..heh she thought we were boyfriends, and ummm, I didn’t correct her..” he explained.

“Is that so…?” Fuyuhiko said.

“Yeah...so haha. Anyways I guess we can stage a breakup or something like that.”

“Yeah we can..or we can do something else rather than lie again..”

Hajime looked up to meet Fuyuhiko’s gaze, the shorter male had taken a few steps closer.

“We can make those previous lies true..I mean like...the story about our first date. I honestly..umm fuck...I mean if the park and dinner is an good ideal for you as a..first date..” Fuyuhiko's gaze focused on Hajime’s tie.

Hajime felt his heart race, did Fuyuhiko just ask him on a date?

“I…” Hajime grabbed Fuyuhiko’s hand, the shorter male looking up to meet his gaze, “I would really enjoy that..”

Fuyuhiko blushed and nodded. He let go of Hajime’s hand and opened the car door for him.

“Text me when you get home.”

“Yeah I will.” Hajime got into the car.

“hajime ..”

“yeah ?”

Fuyuhiko grabbed his hand again, and kissed his palm “despite what happened, I..really enjoyed tonight.”

“Yeah me too,” Hajime smiled.

The two waved goodbye and Fuyuhiko closed the car door. He waited on the side of the crib until the car was out of sight. Fuyuhiko rubbed his face, mumbling, feeling his face become flushed again.

“Fuck.”

[nat-20s]

what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days.  I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and  serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.