#there are a couple of other variations but no clear shots of them :(

[patroclusdefencesquad]

in memory of yennefer's fancy, glamorous outfits. gone but never forgotten <3

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

interlude two

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: Another brief look into Bruce's mind...there will definitely be a couple more of these. And Bruce will get his own full chapter at the climax at the story. No I will not tell you more than that. Anyways thanks for the comments and feedback, they make me write faster!

Series Masterlist

word count: 1.1k

“I’m okay,” she said, but she wasn’t sure she was.

Bruce's POV

For most of the night, all of Bruce’s thoughts were some variation of oh fuck. 

First, it was because he was certain that at any moment, y/n would recognize him. That she would call him out on the mask, lying to her, everything. The more they talked, the more tightly wound he became. 

But at the same time, he…enjoyed it. She was more open with Batman than she was Bruce. Talking to each other like strangers erased their complicated, hurt-filled past in a way that was addicting. Bruce knew that the longer things went on, the worse it would be when she figured it out. 

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. 

Then, of course, the cursing in his mind changed the moment he realized she was in danger. That he had put her in danger by bringer her along. That panic was different, deeper, more crippling. 

Bruce thought he had known true fear.

He thought he had conquered fear. He had turned into an incarnation of it. 

But then, when Alfred was almost killed by the Riddler, all of that fear had come rushing back. 

And still it didn’t hold a candle to what he had felt when that man’s gun had been trained on y/n. Even with the Riddler terrorizing the city, even with Alfred almost dying, at least y/n had been safe in Bludhaven. 

Now that she was back in Gotham she was in danger. He had almost lost her. That fear was…unprecedented. It had nearly killed him, the sight of that gun pointed at her, the man’s intent to use it clear on his face. Like the world had stopped long enough to carve his lungs out of his chest. Long enough for him to imagine a world without her. 

Bruce didn’t care that his suit was bulletproof in those moments–he would have stepped in front of her anyways. 

The primal need to save her, to protect her, had been so strong he’d almost hit Gordon. And her new friend Martinez. He shot a glare to the man as he thought about the way he’d looked at y/n. Apparently, she texted him often. 

Bruce shifted his attention to y/n as Alfred hugged her, willing her to see him. To see him. To connect him to the Batman. He wanted her to know, even though it terrified him. Even though he didn’t know what she’d think, he suddenly ached for her to connect the pieces. After tonight, he didn’t want anything left between them. 

“I’m okay,” she said to Alfred, but he knew she wasn’t. He wished he could be the one to hold her. Batman might have been able to–she had seemed receptive enough to his touch in that alley. Leaned into it, even. But he knew it was because he hadn’t been himself. 

“Is there somewhere we can all talk?” Gordon asked. Alfred led them all into the sitting room, y/n trailing behind like a zombie. Bruce hesitated, wanting to stay back with her, imagined taking her hand and cupping her face to get a better look at the cut on her head in the light. 

Instead he sat as far away from her as he could, elbows on knees, hands clasped underneath his chin as he half-listened to ideas for security measures. 

He’d had to rush home to beat them there, to be able to change and wash his face and make it look like he’d been asleep. He’d explained, breathlessly, what happened to Alfred as the elevator rose to the top floor. They had barely stepped out of it when the other elevator opened. 

Alfred wanted to know, after asking if y/n was alright, if she had recognized him yet. 

Of course the answer was still no.

Alfred had sighed. Bruce heard their entire past arguments in that one sound. 

Two days before, when he’d gotten home, Alfred had been waiting. 

“She didn’t recognize me,” was the first thing Bruce said. A worry that was on both of their minds when Gordon had called. 

Alfred crossed his arms. He had left his cane leaning against a chair, too, likely to look more intimidating. 

“I know she didn’t, because she told me she was out with the Batman tonight.” Alfred’s foot tapped. “And if she had recognized you, I’m certain she would have come in with guns blazing, maybe even breathing fire.” 

Bruce paused. “...Right.” He wasn’t quite sure why Alfred was annoyed, then, if he knew y/n had been with him and hadn’t recognized him. Bruce started the ritual of shedding his armor while Alfred stewed. 

“The more time you spend with her, the worse it will be,” Alfred said after a long silence. “You know that, right?” 

Bruce shrugged but didn’t answer. 

“Why haven’t you told her?” 

“Because she hasn’t figured it out,” he said. He didn’t have any other good reason. Maybe because he liked spending time with her as two strangers. They had no past that way. Batman hadn’t broken her heart. Bruce had. She was easy with the vigilante, more open. More like herself than she was with Bruce. And Bruce missed her, the real her. Her humor, her smile, her laugh–things that only Batman got to see now. 

“Maybe she doesn’t want to,” he continued, voice soft as he placed the armor in its spot on a dummy. “Maybe I fucked her up so bad she can’t see me behind the mask.” 

Alfred’s silence was pointed. 

“This is the point where you’re supposed to argue,” Bruce said drily. 

“Nothing to argue with,” Alfred said, tone cold, and turned on his heel. 

Now, Alfred was giving him a pointed look across the sitting room. Bruce realized it had gone silent. Y/n was the only one not looking at him expectantly. A flush crawled up his neck at the sudden attention. 

“Sorry,” he said, but his voice was too low. Too close to Batman. He cleared his throat. “Not quite awake yet.” 

Y/n flinched. It was subtle, but it was still a flinch. Bruce’s eyebrows drew together as he wondered why she had reacted to strongly to his words. 

He had to tear his eyes away from her and refocus on the conversation about her security. Gordon said something about Bruce and Alfred being in danger, but the two of them exchanged a look, silently dismissing it out of hand. 

Bruce would do whatever it took to keep y/n safe. He had already taken four bullets for her, his chest aching, and he would take a thousand more, armor or no armor. 

She was safest in the tower with him, where he could keep her safe. Not that she knew it. Not that Gordon knew it either. 

But he and Alfred were her best bets. 

If only he could get her to stop running away from him.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet @spencerrxids @giulia2372 @katara-is-a-goddess-changemymind @janezat @incorrectmarvelquotesss

[dayfalwastaken]

Notable Slenderman designs from over the years

Something Awful: As the users of the original Create Paranormal Images thread took to calling him, "Poo Poo", the first Slendy on this list is sort of a composite variant of his first depictions. After Victor Surge had made "the Slender Man" people started creating their own photos and a couple even drew him. Designs varied, but many featured arms that turned into tentacles or tree branches, and blank faces with either few or very pronounced facial features. These first drawings gave me the impression that Slendy was a creature that attempted to blend in and look human, but if examined its nonhuman aspects would become apparent almost immediately, empty face notwithstanding. As such, while his suit gives the impression of a well-dressed man, if one looks at it from a small distance they'll note the lack of buttons, pockets and other such accessories, so in a way the suit is like a second skin as opposed to actual clothes. Merely a disguise.

Marble Hornets: The Operator! Version that got many people into the Slenderman mythos, the Marble Hornets rendition streamlined the many variations of the Something Awful forum into a simple yet iconic design. This guy is very tall, and makes it clear that he's the furthest thing from human. Proportion-wise, his torso is not even half of his total height, while his arms almost reach the ground. Weirdly enough, his hands don't seem to have fingers? And look to be morphed into the suit, though they could be wearing fingerless gloves. He has a straight upper body and shoulders, and in most entries has barely if any shadows on his face to enunciate human features. As in, most of the time his face is completely blank, although there are entries where you can spot the outlines of a nose, mouth and eye sockets.

TribeTwelve: To me, the Administrator is a more grounded (heh) Slenderman. If you ignore the times he's shown to tower over humans, this guy, while tall, isn't abnormally long. He even has human-looking skin and visible eye sockets! With regular proportions for a Slenderman depiction, he's pretty tame in appearance when he doesn't have his tentacles or spider legs out. So really, he's just a regular man in black with no face, which makes him a bit more believable but still creepy as all hell.

DarkHarvest00: Gorr'rylaehotep! This dude's like a streamlined version of the Marble Hornets Operator, which was himself a streamlined Slendy. He's like an expected evolution of a live action Slenderman, where his body isn't elongated so much as it's scaled up for him to appear larger. That said, he's in no way thick, being quite thin for a big guy in a business suit. Luckily, that doesn't take away from his scare factor, as he's remains an imposing figure throughout the series... In the shots where he doesn't move too much, that is… Having fewer overall appearances in DarkHarvest00, he's also the most consistent Slendy on this list to keep a totally blank face with no features. Neato!

Slender: the Arrival: This guy isn't slender. Like, at all. He's well-built for a Slenderman and, dare I say, kind of muscular-looking. If you shorten his arms, he's just a big human, but I think that strengthens the unease you have when you see him. The others, aside from the TribeTwelve design, don't really hide their uncannyness. Once you’ve spotted them, you know there's something wrong when you look at them. The Arrival Slenderman takes it a step further. He gets all up in your face, not even stalking you all that much. He almost refuses to blend into the background, opting to terrorize you up close. He doesn't obscure the fact that he's an otherworldy entity that shouldn't exist, and I think that's great. His ragged skin and ears melted into his skull offer him an incredibly distinct look, and given how well the game uses him, he's super scary to play against. He's also among the first Slendermen to feature a red tie, which will go on to be a very popular design choice when depicting this character.

The ways people chose to draw/show/model Slendy have always intrigued me, so I made this lil thing to show off the differences in a few designs over the past decade! I hope you've enjoyed reading through this, and I'll see you next time when I'll draw and analyse five more. Have a good day!

[buckttommy]

Do you think there's a disconnect between older and newer members of the fandom? I'm a newer fan and most of my mutuals are also new fans and sometimes it feels like fans that have been around for a while don't really want to interact with new blogs.

You know what? I love this question. I'm glad you asked. Yeah, there is a disconnect and I can tell you why it exists (at least from my perspective).

So, before Eddie got shot, this fandom was relatively small. I joined this fandom in January 2021 and... okay, so, one of my litmus tests to determine the size of a fandom is seeing how easy it is to secure a canon or "elite" url. If it's a big fandom, say, DC or Marvel, you'd have to practically kill a man to save a steverogers or brucewayne url, or even a variation of that (i.e stcverogers / brvcewayne). But if it's a medium-sized fandom, for example, you might get away with being able to save an "off-brand" canon url (i.e. canonstucky / batfam). So when I joined up, the fact that I was able to save the canonbuddie url the same day I joined was, like, "whoa. Holy shit. Not a lot going on around here!" Especially since, by this time, Buddie had already been a "ship" for a year or so.

And you know what? It was perfect!

Honestly, in those pre-shooting days, this fandom was very chill. Sure, there was the Ryan/Chrysti n-word drama, and sure, I got absolutely slaughtered every time I so much as mentioned his name in a positive way, and sure, there was your casual in-fighting here and there among some people, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Everything was pretty alright.

But then Eddie got shot... and this fandom blew. the fuck. up.

Gay firefighter trended on twitter and suddenly, this fandom wasn't just a medium-sized hang out anymore. People joined in droves. People started paying attention to us, which was weird. And as with most things in these dark, long-forgotten corners of the internet, with the growth of the fandom inevitably came the Supernatural fans.

As you (probably? possibly?) know, Supernatural ended (Nov. 2020) only a couple months before Eddie got shot (May 2021). When Eddie got shot and Buddie shippers were so absolutely very convinced that this was The Moment and Season 5 was going to be their season, jilted ex-Destiel stans came sniffing around to see what we were up to. This would have been fine, but unfortunately, most of them were horribly unkind (calling us stupid and dumb and mocking us "to our faces" for believing Buddie would ever go canon) or just annoying as fuck (calling Buddie "D/estiel 2.0" and stuff like that).

It got... bad. Seriously. Me and some of the other "big" bloggers around here were constantly inundated with hatemail and mean comments attached to our posts to the point where I know a lot of us just started blocking D/estiel shippers on sight.

Most people in the fandom "closed ranks" after that, so to speak. If you weren't a trusted mutual, or a mutual-in-law, you basically had a 0% chance of punching your way through the fold. Which was ultimately to our detriment. In closing the ranks, more cliques formed, which of course, naturally, created a whole new set of problems to contend with, and all of these events eventually led us to where we are now.

It's not perfect, but it is what it is.

It should be noted that I'm not a fandom expert, and I don't claim to speak on everyone's behalf, but I remember this time, and my conversations with people during this time, with crystal-clear clarity and the D/estiel takeover seems to be the inciting event.

So. Yeah. It's not pleasant news, but I hope this helps?

[five-rivers]

frozen to the bone

Today, the sight and sound of Long Now did not cause Danny any of the usual emotions.  

Usually, Danny associated Long Now with one of two sets of emotions.  Dread, if it was not expected, because what did he have to fix now?  Relief, if it was expected, because he could be sure his lessons with Clockwork (lessons whose purpose Clockwork was awfully tight-lipped about, except that they were 'for the future') would not be interrupted.  

But, usually, Danny’s week hadn't gone quite so poorly.  He ached from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, with a few sharper pains standing out in a constellation of suffering.  His right ankle - twisted; he hadn't gotten a good enough stance before catching that building.  His teeth and jaw - bruised and loose; Skulker had fed him a couple of rocket assisted knuckle sandwiches.  His left bicep - swollen; bitten by a mildly venomous ghost snake.  His back and neck - kinked; he had no idea what he’d done to them, but it couldn’t have been any variation of ‘slept on it wrong,’ because he hadn’t slept.  His head - pounding; he’d only rarely had a headache this bad.  

In other words, he felt bad.  The only emotions he could really sum up at the moment were exhaustion (that was an emotion, right?), resignation, and determination.  He had promised to come to these lessons, and he was going to keep that promise, despite Long Now’s… everything.

Different parts of the Ghost Zone, Danny had learned, had different effects.  Tendencies that could be resisted with little effort, even if you didn't know they were there.  Mattingly resisted change.  Pandemonium embraced it.  The Labyrinth wanted to be solved.  The Lost Woods didn’t.  

Long Now wanted you to be in time.

It wanted you to move in rhythm with its many clocks, every motion, every word, even every thought in order, locked to the sinusoidal curves described by its pendulums and the rotations of its gears.  

Usually, at worst, this would be annoying.  It took only the tiniest of efforts to break away from the tendency.  To use the well-worn wheelbarrow in the garden analogy, the push exerted by Long Now would barely be a dip in a well-maintained path.  

But, as established, this wasn’t a usual day, and as Danny approached Long Now the throbbing of his head began to synchronize with the ticking of the clocks and the rise and fall of the pain from his other ailments.  His movements and his thoughts, spurred by the pain, followed suit soon after.  He pulled himself out of sync several times, but he was tired, and he kept falling back into step…  During most of his visits, he didn’t bother to avoid it.  Most of the time, it was a comfort.  And it kept him from falling between gears by mistake.  

Not today.  

Today, every tick had him fighting back static from the edge of his vision.  He wanted to turn around and go home to sleep… but he had promised…

“You don’t look well today,” observed Clockwork, when Danny finally managed to get in.

“Headache,” said Danny.  Even his bones felt like they hurt.  What was up with that?  

“I’ve prepared some tea.  Would you like to try it?”

Danny was just about ready to try anything.  Already, he’d taken a shot at  hot packs and a hot shower to try to loosen up… But all those things did was make him feel like he was definitely at the wrong temperature…  He’d even taken his temperature, wondering if he’d gotten sick, but he’d just gotten back error messages on the thermometer.  He nodded, then winced, the timing of the movement making the pain worse.  

“Come,” said Clockwork, “sit down.”  He motioned to a sitting space that may or may not have been there moments before, but which certainly hadn’t been there last week.  The couches were reddish pink, with the back and arms shaped like rounded branches.  The low coffee table was clear, blue-tinted glass.  The tea service on it was shaped like shells.  The green carpet was something like shag, but the fibers were of uneven lengths, some of them over a foot long, and they stood on end, swaying like seaweed in an invisible current.  The rippling blue light coming from overhead did not help matters.  

Danny wondered, briefly, if the subject matter of the day’s lesson was going to be ocean-themed.  

“We can delay today’s lesson until you feel better,” said Clockwork, steering him to sit on one of the couches.  “No, you didn’t say anything out loud, but I do have some experience with your facial expressions at this point.”  He handed Danny a steaming cup.  

Danny, as delicately as possible, sniffed at it.  The odor wasn’t offensive, despite his headache, so he took a sip.  It was… sweet.  Floral.  

The warmth of it reached his stomach and began to permeate.  The warmth wasn’t particularly helpful, but the tea itself could be called relaxing.  

“What is it?” he asked.  

“Flowers from your grave,” said Clockwork, sipping his own tea.  

“Is that the name of the blend, or is it literally…?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have a grave.”

“You will.”

Danny blinked slowly - but definitely still in sync with his pounding headache - at that pronouncement.  However, he had learned not to ask too many questions about the future.  Eventually.  Especially questions about things like that.  

He took another, final sip as the clocks chimed the quarter-hour, and groaned.  

“It really hurts,” he said. 

“Hm,” said Clockwork, contemplatively.  “Finish your tea, and we can see if a massage will help.”

“A massage?  From who?”

“From me,” said Clockwork.  “I do, on occasion, take up a hobby, and given all of time…”  He shrugged, and Danny took another sip.  

“Okay,” said Danny, dubiously.  Clockwork didn’t exactly look like the kind of person to give good massages… and he was kind of a loner, so Danny didn’t know how he’d practice…

“Duplicates, Daniel.”

“Oh,” said Danny, feeling himself blush.  To hide his embarrassment, he tilted the teacup back and drank the rest of the tea all at once.  

“Good,” said Clockwork.  “Now, has it been bothering you more as a human or a ghost?”

“Human,” said Danny.  

“Go ahead and change and take your shoes off,” said Clockwork, pushing the coffee table to one side with a wave of his hand.  

“But the lesson,” said Danny, objecting more on principle than anything else.  

“If you would like, I could lecture you while I give you your massage, but I doubt you’d remember much of it.”

“Okay,” said Danny, putting down the teacup.  “Fine.”  He turned human and swayed dizzily for a moment before toeing off his shoes.  

The carpet, despite looking like some kind of eldritch horror, was very soft.  

“Here,” said Clockwork, putting a coral-red pillow on the floor and coiling his tail underneath him.  “Lay down.”

Danny made a face at him - that hurt, too.  His jaw was not healed yet, and at this rate he had to imagine it had been fractured, not just bruised.  He took the second between ticks to waffle about position, then laid down on his front.  Closing his eyes felt great.  

Clockwork’s hands hovered - ghosted - over his back.  “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  

Clockwork let his hands close the rest of the distance and started rubbing little circles into Danny’s back.  He managed to seek out Danny’s very tightest muscles and ease away the knots.  In his back, his neck, even his head, with Clockwork’s gloved fingers questing rhythmically over his scalp.  It didn’t fix everything, and certainly not his headache, but some of the tension he’d built up started to drop.  

“Now,” said Clockwork.  "That lecture.  Have you ever heard of the mind-body problem?”

“Philosophy thing?” guessed Danny.  

“Quite so.  It is the debate regarding the relationship between the conscious mind, the brain, and the body.  You might be surprised that the debate exists among ghosts as well.”

Danny wasn’t.  Ghosts would argue about just about anything.  

Then, the nature of the pressure Clockwork was exerting changed.  It didn’t lessen, but it became… fluttery and deep, like Clockwork was brushing up against not skin, but muscle and bone.  It felt cold, but not unwelcome, a chill spreading from his core in response.

“‘R’you intangible?” mumbled Danny into the pillow.  His words tasted cold, then, colder, as his core pulsed and a plume of fog from his ghost sense billowed past his lips.

“Only a little,” said Clockwork.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“Nhh,” said Danny.  “Feels good.”  His core pulsed again, stronger, and Danny peeled open his eyes to see the fog of his ghost sense flowing down, off the edge of the pillow, and over his outstretched arm.  The strands of the carpet undulated, wafting the fog back into his face, and he shut his eyes against it.  

“I’m glad,” said Clockwork.  He adjusted his position so that his hands were just over Danny’s core.  He pushed one of Danny’s vertebrae into its proper place just so and Danny couldn’t help but let out an inarticulate sigh of relief.  “There.  I am good at this,” he added, clearly smug.  “Where was I?  Ah, yes.  The ghostly version of the mind-body problem.  The presence of an existence beyond the expiration of one’s physical body does complicate the debate significantly.”

The chill coming from Danny’s core deepened and continued to spread.  The cold made him feel stiff, frozen, which only made sense.  He was human at the moment.  Clockwork worked outward with it, pushing Danny’s recalcitrant bones and muscles into place before they became too cold to move comfortably. 

It felt very strange, but for all the stiffness, the cold eased his pain far better than the hot packs and hot showers did.  Except for one thing.  As the cold crept up his spine, the pressure in his head grew and grew.  

“Now, the most popular general supposition is that there is a soul - a hidden variable, if you would, I know you’ve been looking into quantum physics recently - that exists outside of the mind and body and which provides for continuity between a human and their ghost.”  Clockwork lifted Danny slightly, and touched the backs of his knees.  Danny compiled, tucking his knees to his chest as well as he was able.  

The cold was creeping up Danny’s neck, now.  The rest of his body felt fine, even his snakebite chilled to numbness, but his head…  His eyes pricked with tears that did not run down his face.  

“From there, it is said that in a human, the mind is the interface between the body and the soul, their point of contact, and that, in a ghost, the body is a projection of a mind retained by a soul.  That it is much more difficult to damage or change a ghost’s mind through its body than it is to do the same to a human through similar methods - drugs, coercion, physical trauma, etcetera - is used as evidence.”

Clockwork picked at the tight muscles at the base of Danny’s neck, and Danny could almost visualize him laying them flat, smoothing them out, and running his fingers up to the base of his skull.  It felt good, but didn’t help with the still building pressure.  

He wondered, a little hysterically, if his head would explode from it.  

The pressure built and it built and it built, even as Clockwork’s fingers dipped soothingly in and out of his skull.  It just kept going up and getting worse, increasing just a little more with every second that passed–

And then it all rushed away, like air in a popped balloon.  Something wet ran from the inner corner of his eye, drying quickly.  

Relieved, Danny’s core began to pur, each vibration mechanically precise and perfectly in time.  It was the only part of him that moved at all, beyond the cold air still flowing freely from his mouth.  He’d never purred before, he didn’t think, but it felt right.    

Somewhat more aware of his surroundings than he had been, he noted that Clockwork had wrapped him around something large and plush, and rolled him onto his side.

“Of course, you are in a unique position.  Can your mind be said to be an interface?  Does your ghostly body arise from your human one, or from your mind?  How is one exchanged for the other?”  He ran one finger from the crown of Danny’s head all the way down his spine, and then started to work small circles into the soles of Danny’s feet, which did not tickle nearly as much as he thought it would.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Daniel.”

So was Danny.  

Clockwork stroked him again, all the way along his spine, and the temperature of his core dropped again.  He was cold.  So wonderfully cold.  Didn’t Frostbite say something about freezing himself solid…?  The memory danced out of reach, and his thoughts were too slow to chase it.  

Another half-intangible stroke.  

Colder.  

The volume of his purr was so loud, but it meshed with the clocks so well.  It was almost hypnotic.  

Colder.  

He felt so nice and cozy.  It should be fine to just… sleep… just a little…

.

Danny startled himself away and rolled off the coral couch, narrowly avoiding hitting the coffee table right next to it.  A large plush stuffed bear fell on top of him.

“What?” he said, blinking blurriness out of his eyes.  “Huh?”

“You fell asleep,” said Clockwork, sitting on the other couch and drinking from a shell-shaped teacup, “right after the tea.”

“You didn’t wake me up?” asked Danny.  He was in ghost form.  His shoes were still on.

Clockwork raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t see any point in doing so.  You were exhausted and needed rest.  I would be a poor mentor indeed if I could not accommodate for that.”

Danny pulled himself back up onto the couch.  Even if he wasn’t in the Ghost Zone, he imagined he’d feel unsettled and unmoored.  “How long was I asleep?”

“Eight hours.  Do you feel better?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, running his knuckles gently over his breastbone, trying to recapture the feeling of purring.  

“Did you have any dreams?”

Danny looked up, sharply.  “How did you know?”

“Aren’t dreams often portents?  Omens?”  Clockwork shrugged.  “It’s a common side effect to being here, and even more common, considering what I’m trying to teach you.  Don’t think too deeply about them, though.  They rarely show us our own futures.”

“Oh,” said Danny.  “You didn’t offer to give me a massage did you?”

“No.”

“Huh.”  He kept rubbing his chest.  “I think…”  He didn’t know what he thought.  “I think I might have frozen to death.”

“Interesting,” said Clockwork, with the air he took on when searching through alternate timelines.  His face twitched and he took another sip of tea.  “Ah.  Well.  This blend is designed more to wake you up than it is to put you to sleep, if you would like it.”

“Clockwork, what happened in that timeline?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

Danny worried.  

Clockwork flicked his pointer finger at the bear and used telekinesis to deposit it in Danny’s lap.  “Perhaps next time we can review lucid dreaming methods.”

“Clockwork.”

“Much of the dream was pure fantasy,” allowed Clockwork, after a moment, “but you should be cautious of anything that excites your core so much.  Also, if you linger too much longer, you’ll be late.”

[chthonic-cassandra]

Congratulations on finishing your series!! That must be such a dizzying milestone after being with it for so long! A couple celebratory questions: what are you most proud of about the stories? Were you always planning to make it thirteen parts specifically? How long have you known what you wanted the ending to be? Also do you have any plans for what to work on next?

Thank you so much! It is indeed dizzying; I'm still going through waves of feeling about it.

I appreciate the questions! I'll try to keep this free from spoilers since I don't think you've read the whole series yet.

What are you most proud of about the stories?

Probably the continuity of the series, and its broader arc. I haven't finished many longer-form writing projects, and even though this one isn't that long (58k words, I think), the slow and halting pace at which I wrote it means that maintaining the continuity - of narrative, theme, character - across that time feels like a big accomplishment.

I loved getting to plant thematic seeds that only came to fruition much later. Especially over the process of writing the second half of the series since my crazily long hiatus 2016-21 I was constantly going back over the whole work to make sure I was holding all the threads of the story and bringing images and symbols and phrases back to echo, and I'd never really done that as a writer before across a long time frame.

Were you always planning to make it thirteen parts specifically? How long have you known what you wanted the ending to be?

Answering these two together!

I initially wrote the first part as a one shot. It was during a time in my life (2008-09) when I was writing a lot of these Dracula AU one shots that were all different variations on related themes about coercion and captivity and situations with no good choices, just sort of putting these pieces together in different configurations and playing with them. But something about Compromise always felt more vivid to me than the others and it lingered with me.

Several years later, in 2013, there was another story about vampire transformation that I wanted to tell, and when I thought about it I realized that it was the sequel to Compromise. From there I started spinning the narrative out and gradually the larger shape of what it had to be became clear. I had a rough sense of what the full story was by the time I wrote Adjust (part 5), but for various reasons stepped away from it (and all my vampire writing) entirely for several years.

When I came back to it and wrote Acculturation I was subsequently much more intentional about planning out the rest of the series, and I knew at that point that I was roughly midway through the story that I needed to tell, though I didn't know exactly how long it would take to get there. I thought that I was going to finish it in 12 parts until this past spring, when I realized that the events of Intransigence and Concession needed to each be their own story, and that there was structural and point of view stuff there that had to be split.

Also do you have any plans for what to work on next?

Next up is my Yuletide assignment.

After that I am not totally sure, because I have a lot of potential projects. I am working on this collection of thematically linked one shots about concubine themes in Xena (find a more me sentence than that one; I'll wait), so that might end up taking my focus. On a very different tonal note, I have all these half-finished projects about the women from various Sade novels, which are incredibly unpleasant to work on but which I also have a lot of I want to say with.

I also have several different Penny Dreadful story ideas that I have been circling around in my head, because I think there are stories I can tell with them that I really want to work on telling, but it's taking some time to feel out where I am as a writer in that canon.

Other possibilities: unfinished Dracula one shots from years and years ago that maybe ought to get cleaned up and put into the world; experimenting with another vampire canon; any of the million wildcard fic ideas in my head. The disparity between the things I want to write and the time and energy I have to do it remains very large, but whatever I do write next it's definitely going to be on these same thematic preoccupations of mine.

(The crazy Dracula fic series I just finished is here, I'm still taking questions about it if you want to give me more opportunities to ramble.)

[claymorexpunisher]

Safe (One Shot)

Pairing(s): The Miz/Fem. Reader

Disclaimer: This was an anon request and it was... interesting, to say the least lol! I've never written a selectively mute character and from the research I did (like with pretty much any disability or disorder) there's different levels and variations of it. So, I can only hope that I've done your request justice my dear, sweet anon. Hope you enjoy! I apologize for any grammatical errors or any misrepresentation. ��

Tags: selective mutism, angst, fluff, reader.

Word Count: 1,254

WWE was an entirely new ballgame now that Vince McMahon had stepped down.

For starters, the entire locker room seemed much more at ease, and it was a less toxic environment.

But it all still felt a tad bit overwhelming for me from time to time.

A couple of months ago, I started joining my brother on tour.

My brother was currently on a trial period with the WWE-on the main roster- Triple H had said.

Like I said before, the environment under Hunter and Stephanie’s guidance became much more bearable, but it could still get overwhelming from me, what with the sea of wrestlers and staff bustling around the venues at all times.

I would try to talk to as many people as possible and then I’d look for somewhere quiet to stay before the shows began, especially when Mike wasn’t there.

Thankfully his presence wasn’t as rare these days.

Mike often felt like the calm in the middle of the storm that was tour life.

He didn’t ask for more than I was willing or able to give and… and yeah, maybe I was falling for him.

In a world that wasn’t particularly forgiving for people like me and that forced me to interact in ways that I sometimes couldn’t, Mike was patient.

If I wanted to speak, we’d text each other even if we were in the same room because it was the easiest way to quickly communicate.

But if I didn’t want to, he’d gladly do the talking for me or he’d sit quietly with me in secluded spot I had chosen before the shows.

I don’t know how much my brother had told Mike about me and my selective mutism, but with Mike, things felt easy.

But in the back of my mind, a little voice would try to convince me that Mike found me exhausting.

So, with those treacherous thoughts in mind, I skipped tonight’s show and started packing my bags to go back home without my brother.

I hadn’t expected my brother to let Mike know, though.

And I wouldn’t have known until Mike came knocking at my door, wondering why I wasn’t headed to the show with everyone else and why I was headed home on my own.

I hesitantly let him in, and I watched him survey the folded and scattered clothes around the hotel room.

‘’Hey… tornado hit in here or something?’’ Mike said, letting out an amused chuckle before he balked at my serious demeanor.

The only answer I gave him was a light shrug as I let him further into the hotel room.

I didn’t even care about him seeing the mess in my room.

‘’Hey. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you heading out with the rest of us?’’ he asked, and I shrugged silently once again.

‘’Did something happen?’’ This time, I shook my head and I half expected to hear a huff of annoyance from Mike, but it never came.

Instead, his patient but vibrant blue eyes were trained on me as I continued to fold my clothes to then pack them into my suitcase.

‘’Okay…’’ Mike drawled and then he gently set some of my folded clothes off to the side to clear a space on the bed.

‘’Did I do something? Did I piss you off? Because if I did, please let me know. ‘’ as soon as those words left Mike’s mouth, I felt awful.

Despite wanting to put some space between us, I didn’t feel right making him think he was the problem.

Because he wasn’t.

He was the one I felt most comfortable with out of anyone in the locker room even though my mind was now telling me I shouldn’t give into that feeling.

Wanting to give Mike more than just nods, shrugs, or shakes of my head, I took out my phone and began to type a reply to him.

‘’It’s not me. Okay that’s good! So? What is it, then?’’ Mike asked again, fixing his earnest gaze on me.

Sighing softly, I began to type again.

‘’I’m not going to be late… What, you saying I need to be in hair and makeup with the ladies? Is that your way of telling me I look awful?’’ He smirked playfully and it only grew into a full laugh as I scoffed at him with a playful glint in my eye.

That last response made his brow crease in confusion, and something twisted uncomfortably in my gut at the sight of it.

‘’What’s that supposed to mean?’’ Mike responded, looking between the text on his phone and at my grimacing features.

That came out wrong.

So, so wrong.

Shit.

I was just thinking about how I didn’t want to make him feel like he was the problem and here I went, doing the exact opposite.

Dammit.

‘’Oh. I thought it hadn’t nothing to do with me. So, which is it? Would you like me to go away or not?’’ I could hear the annoyance I’d been fearing beginning to creep into his voice, and I felt my back curve in embarrassment.

I made no move to respond this time and he took it as a sign that his presence was no longer needed.

Before he could walk through the door, I felt my mouth form my plea before I could think about it.

‘’… N-no.’’ I said and I watched Mike’s back stiffen in surprise before he turned to look at me, shock oozing out of his crystal blue eyes.

I crossed my arms over my chest as he walked back into the room, shut the door once more and walked over to me.

It was always felt a bit weird hearing my own voice after long periods of time where it went unused.

Thankfully, he didn’t make such a big deal about this development that was altogether new to him, but I could see the shock and excitement still lighting up his eyes.

‘’No?’’ Mike said, tilting his head as if surely, he was hearing things.

I shook my head.

‘’No.’’ I repeated and looked at our hands as Mike reached out to hold mine in his gentle grasp.

‘’Do you wanna talk about what’s wrong?’’ he asked softly, and he noted the hesitation in my eyes before I spoke again, choosing my words carefully.

‘’I don’t wanna bother you…’’ I whispered, again shaking my head.

I saw the realization flit over his eyes as he finally understood my worries and I wanted to lash out at him for the way his eyes softened.

But his words stopped me in my tracks.

‘’You’re never a bother. Alright? Never. If I’m around you, it’s because I wanna be. And sure, our interactions are different than most, but that’s just us… Listen to me. Whenever those thoughts creep into your head and lie to you, I want you to come to me. I know it sounds easier said than done, but still. Try to come to me. Okay? You’re never a bother.’’ He said again and brought me closer to him.

My eyes closed contently as he tenderly kissed my temple, and I couldn’t help but sink into him.

We both knew that his words weren’t necessarily a magic wand for these inevitable thoughts.

But for now, I chose to believe him.

For now, I knew that I was safe and cared for.

And as I wrapped my arms around Mike’s waist, I knew that he heard the silent ‘thank you’ I didn’t say out loud...

[th3lost4uthor]

The Purple Lotus - Act 1

Outside, the sun was finishing its race towards the horizon, while a few lazy clouds were joining the soon-to-be-born stars. The air was still warm for the beginning of autumn and one could hear the laughter of children playing in the neighbourhood’s alleys below: the Pleasure District was quiet. However, she preferred not to dwell on it... Indeed, in a few moments, the discreet clock in the small salon would strike ten, which never failed to mark the beginning of her shift. This did not prevent her from savouring these last minutes of respite spent observing two novices who were busy with the final preparations in the inner courtyard, their countless braids jumping out with each of their steps and their white dresses reflecting the last glimmers of daylight. In the corridor, one of their direct elders, with her waist encased in yellow silk, called out to them, urging them to hurry to the great hall to welcome their guests. A quick glance at the clock’s hands: only five minutes left... Better get down there too, or Dame Rey would find an excuse to force extra “private meetings” on her.

The young woman sighed, before resigning herself to leaving the large rattan armchair with its comfortable covers. She cleared away the bowl of biscuits she had borrowed from the kitchen, rearranged a couple of books she had started to read, and finally made her way to the imposing mirror above the dressing table, which was a must-have for every flat. At least she was no longer forced to share hers with a dozen of others, like when she was still sleeping in the dormitories with the novices: that was the luxury granted to those who had managed to survive within these walls. Behind the large disk of polished glass, her reflection looked back at her:

 An ivory skin,

like her moonbeam hair,

left loose except for a thin braid

enhanced by an amethyst ribbon

and finally...

Two blood-coloured eyes.

 She sighed. It was clear that, thirty years later, she still couldn't get used to it. However, it was to be believed that her “exotic” appearance, as one of her clients had once described it, had found its place among the fantasies of the men from the capital, sometimes even from the surrounding towns. Oh, but don't misinterpret this volatile mood: in no way was she complaining about her condition! After all, “The Purple Lotus” was the most prestigious establishment in the Pleasure District; a high place where all the top brass of the queenly city was thronging every day, if only for the hope of catching a glimpse of its buds! Magistrates, bankers, lawyers, ministers, renowned merchants and even members of the imperial family: no one were able to resist the charms of these flowers that bloomed in the heart of the golden-roofed pagoda. Had she been born in one of those brothels on the outskirts, where even onlookers refused to set a foot, she would not have been so lucky. Here she was considered an exquisite rarity.

 Treated as a prime piece...

  She didn’t endure as many years of service to inherit the same colour as some of her colleagues. Purple, which was found in all its variations, came with its privileges: less “tenderness” and more “chatter”. Her physique had had the decency to spare her more time in the bed of these gentlemen of the Great World. That didn't stop her from indulging in a few “treats” (also known as “pleasure shots” in her own words), but it was just that... Well, it was all the same now: she'd already seen all the oddities, heard all the salacious requests, touched all the surfaces the human body could offer, tasted all t-... In short, when you were a courtesan (“a luxury whore”), it was getting harder and harder to be surprised. Quite simply. With a bit of luck, tonight's programme would be limited to a discussion about the price of salt with some wealthy merchants, why not playing a few games of Win't with Sir Pele, an inveterate drinker, but, above all, a lover of novices in white... And, who knows, maybe she could even hope to go to bed before dawn!

A final check of her room, if one of the distinguished guests should nevertheless demand, pardon me, “desire”, an evening “in her intimacy”, a crease removed with the back of her hand, and she rushed into the long corridor towards the ground floor. After the carved wooden staircase, which led to a vast entrance, like an actress thrown under the fire of the stage, her face stretched into a fine smile, both charming and elegant, her spine arched slightly, and so her gaze began to fly over each of the heads she passed. She was respectfully greeting one guest, politely dodging another, when all of a sudden:

 “Ligi! Come here please!”

             Dame Rey was once again in an excellent mood: it was going to be a pleasant evening. Beside the old matriarch, the slender figure of a man in a large black toga... A high ranking officer. And just like that, her hopes for a quiet night were gone.

 “Ah, there you are, there you are...” The old woman, with a bun pulled back to the roots, gave her what could have been mistaken for a sign of satisfaction. Impressive. “Lord Yuei, this is the special one we were just talking about. This is Ligi, the youngest of our purple flowers!”

- It is an honour to meet you, Lord Yuei.”

             Raising her head, she took the time to observe her interlocutor a little better. He was a tall man, easily a head taller than most of the other customers. However, he had nothing of those ogres of flesh, who were as high as they were wide, quite the contrary... Under his embroidered cotton clothes, a lean musculature could be guessed.

 He stands straight, but not rigidly.

No scars either...

A nobleman rather than a general, then.

Perfect... Really, perfect.

             If her life as a prostitute had taught her anything, it was that there were two kinds of nobles: those who would overflow at the mere prospect of holding your hand, and those who could skin you alive just for their own pleasure. Of course, they all paid handsomely for the experience, but in the second case...

 “The pleasure is all mine, Milady.” The man replied before bowing in return, albeit in a more reserved manner.

             The so called “Yuei” had not launched himself into a lyrical tirade, nor had he dared to kiss her hand, nor tried to get closer: this was a good sign. Nevertheless, Ligi couldn't help noticing that the man was barely holding her gaze. Moreover, it was almost impossible for her to give an age to these features which, if one could see two or three wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, could almost pass for those of a youth. High cheekbones, a silver monocle, hair held in a high ponytail, and a long, thin beard, set with a silver ring bearing the emblem of the moon, completed the portrait.

 Probably a family symbol.

This is certainly the youngest member of some family

who was obliged to join

the Archivists’ order to make a name for himself...

 “Lord Yuei is the eldest of the eponymous and prestigious family!” Dame Rey added. “The same one that assists the Emperor as well as the Council!”

- Really? What an admirable position!” Feigning surprise. “And tell me, what are your missions at the Palace?”

- Oh, um, le-legist!” Stammered the man, readjusting the glass to his right eye.

 Well: one good answer out of two...

It could have been worse.

 “I-I write the decrees and all sorts of, um, texts for the Court... That sort of thing, you know?” He continued. “It's not exactly what you'd call prestigious - haha...!”

 And definitely the first kind.

 “Oh, please My Lord, do not diminish yourself like that!” The matriarch simpered. “But we talk, we talk, and you have not yet enjoyed your evening with us - Ligi!”

             Her name had the effect of an electric shock. In the blink of an eye she was back to her gallant seductive self. Surprisingly, the man who was still struggling under the stares a few minutes ago, also seemed to regain his composure, if not... his determination.

 “Yes, Dame Rey?

- Lord Yuei has specifically requested to see you tonight.” She lowered her voice, “And he was also extremely generous with The Lotus while expressing his request...” Again, lower. “You understand, don't you?”

- Perfectly, Ma Dame.

- Good, very good!” The older woman exclaimed, turning away to join the rest of the guests. “Then I shall leave you in the good care of our Ligi, Lord Yuei: I am looking forward to seeing you again in our humble establishment!”

             The other did not respond, merely nodding briefly... Before fixing the young woman with a cold stare. Terrifying. Seeing that no movement was initiated on his side, Ligi tried to defuse the situation:

 “So you work as a legist...? It must be a back-breaking work, but also a very rewarding one: do you have any reading material that you recommend by any chan-?

- If you don't mind...” The man of Letters cut her off. “I'd rather prefer if we went somewhere more... let’s say somewhere quieter.

- Um, yes, of course, Lord Yuei... Could my apartments be suitab-?

- That will do, thank you."

             As they made their way upstairs, Ligi felt more and more suspicious about her host. The latter was keeping his hands crossed behind his back, his shoulders tense, and his eyes riveted in front of his steps without seeing. Fortunately, the few souls they had come across had almost thrown themselves against the walls as they were passing by; his presence so strong that it could have given him a clear path wherever he went. She was sure that with this aura, the man could even move freely in the middle of Izinor’s horse market!

 Yuei... The Council... Yuei...

             Endlessly, the young woman was trying to remember the smallest pieces of information, the smallest pieces of gossip she could have heard about this family and why everyone here seemed so intent on avoiding or even offending her. Before she could think of anything, the door to her room closed behind them.

 “The key.

- Pardon me?

- The key...” He repeated. His back was turned, he was watching the room. “Could you turn it, please? I'd rather we weren't... disturbed.

-A-as you wish, Lord Yuei.”

             Without breaking her posture, Ligi began to wiggle the key in the lock: a metallic clanking sound was heard... but without condemning the exit. The man did not seem to notice the subterfuge.

 Second kind...

Shit.

 “Please, take a seat!” She invited him with a gesture, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “May I offer you some tea? We get the best brands directly imported from...”

- Later, perhaps. Thank you." He hastened to add. "May I ask you to... sit down?

- And..." Inspiration. "Where do you wish me to sit, Lord Yuei...?"

             It was then that the improbable happened. A sequence that even all these years, although spent with the most delirious, unbridled and depraved beings this world has ever known, could not have predicted...

 “Well... Here?” Long fingers pointed to a feather-stuffed cushion. A clumsy smile. “It's always more convenient to be face-to-face when talking, don't you think?”

             The joke, if it was one, seemed to amuse the man, whose goatee was shaken by a discreet laugh. Without even giving a second glance to the courtesan, who had ended up standing in front of him, still as perplexed, he pulled aside a part of his tunic... To retrieve a portable quill accompanied by a piece of carefully folded parchment.

That's when she saw it. A golden glint against the black of the precious cloth.

 Esmeride's compass!

             And it all came back to her at last...

 The Ministry -

So young? - The last one was at least 50 years old!

- father, an Admiral...

Foreign Affairs, hmm?

Tall - Lunatic: a tribute to his name, hey!

Married - great reception - they say with the heiress of a Marshal

Rich! - Watch out...

Many connections - First Secretary!

Watch out.

Powerful and promising...

Watch out!

 “If I came to see you tonight, Milady...” Two ebony irises pierced hers. “...it is about my spouse.

- Your...?”

             Suddenly the man threw himself on his knees, took her hands in his, and, in an almost strangled voice, said:

 "I beg you, Milady: you have to help me! Help me to...!" Trembling. "Help me to make my spouse love me!"

  ~ End of Act 1

 ______o.).O.(.o______

[skyetheprophet22]

Plot Variations aka People on a Plane

#1:

Damien sat in his chair, long legs sprawled out in an attempt to stretch within the confines of the plane. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough space. He just didn’t like to feel trapped. Contained. He growled a few curses under his breath and carded his fingers through his bright red hair.

“Oh good God!”

Damien’s brows lifted in amusement as a stockier man with a head of blond hair clutched the seat beside his, fingers digging into the cushion as the iron bird they sat within gave a shudder.

“It’s just turbulence, Luca,” he drawled.

“That didn’t feel like just turbulence.” Luca slid into the seat beside him as if his legs were about to give out. “I hope you’re quite happy forcing me on here. This deathtrap.” His blue eyes shot all around the plane. “And to see them.”

“You say it like we’re going to dine with the Hitlers!”

“You shouldn’t talk like that, you wolf.”

“It’s just your family.”

Luca’s eyes connected with Damien’s for a moment, then skittered away. His lips tightened. “I’d just rather stay in America than go back to Italy.”

His tone suggested he’d rather not discuss the matter, and Damien was nothing if not a gentleman. At least when it came to Luca.

#2:

We sat down at the same time, eyes skittering away at the slightest brush of contact. I cleared my throat, stared out the window as I waited for the plane to growl to life. Take off from the ground and soar into the darkening clouds seen out the window, sprinkling the horizon. 

Once the plane took off it would produce some vague excitement. I could make a comment on it and break the unbearable silence between us. It was thick. So heavy I was nearly suffocated. I wondered if she felt the weight as keenly as I did, or if I was just far more sensitive an individual than my sister.

The plane finally crawled forward.

“And after millennia of waiting, we move.” I cracked a nervous grin. “What, only a couple thousand more miles to go?”

“Silenna...this isn’t...we’ve just lost everything.”

The smile ran from my face.

She barked a humorless laugh. “And now we’re going to live with Uncle Charlie, a man who invented being a bastard. Now’s not the time, Silenna. So just shut-up and look out the window.”

I obliged, tears stabbing at the back of my eyes. “Family road-trip,” I whispered.

#3:

“The package.” 

It’s not a question. It’s a demand, spoken so firmly...with such ice…The pencil of a man had barely had time to settle into his seat on the plane before they drenched him. Left him shivering in his slacks.

“Like the dark suit and shades didn’t make you seem enough of a bastard,” he grumbled, yet his voice shook. A tremble was also present in his hands as he produced a small, spherical object from his tattered briefcase, hand-wrapped in a brown paper bag.

The scream of air hurtling past the plane window seemed to grow louder as the other man reached to take the package. It was in his hands, now. A wolfish smile consumed his face.

“Lovely,” the suited man purred.

The sphere was slipped into a pocket and replaced with a pistol. The skinny man’s brow was replaced with a bullet-hole.

#4:

She didn’t pay him any attention when they first filed onto the plane, corralled like cattle by smiling stewardesses and endless borders of black tape. They sat next to each other. Not a problem. It was what it was, and with it being the holiday season she hadn’t quite expected to have an abundance of space to herself on a plane ride to New York City.

She was heading to visit her brother. Their family always went to him for the holidays. No other venue would work for one reason or another. He was the annoyingly sticky, love-scented glue that kept their mess of a family together. 

She wondered if this man beside her was visiting family, as well. Maybe his was as dysfunctional as hers. Maybe-

Her thoughts broke off as a new pressure gathered at her side. Body rigid, she risked a glance to the side. 

“Oh, you’re asleep,” she whispered to herself, not daring to move an inch. “Yep, yep, yep. You are most definitely asleep.”

#5:

“Hey, let me see your earbuds.”

I comply with my friend’s request, watching as he fiddles with the white, twin-headed snake dangling from his fingers.

“Yep.” He throws my earbuds back at me with a snort of disgust. “Either something’s wrong with my IPad, or both of our earbuds are dead.”

“Or this plane is secretly sucking away all of the power in all of our devices in order to keep itself aloft. I mean, how else do you think a ton of metal stuffed with several dozen sweaty people can stay in the air? It’s sorcery.”

“Shut-up, Brian.”

A throw a shit-eating grin my friend’s way before gesturing to be given the IPad. “I don’t know how you keep breaking these things,” I say with a disapproving - and purposefully annoying - click of my tongue. “I don’t see why you need it, anyway. We’re going to Australia. There’ll be plenty to look at there. You don’t need this.”

I received a withering look in response.

“Yay for school trips!” I shook him with another wide grin plastered on my face.

[lamm97russo]

hermes mini kelly 3

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It is distinct from different Kelly luggage as a result of strap belt closure, and got here in a couple supplies together with supple Swift and delicate Veau Doblis suede. The most diminutive of the limited version Kelly bag varieties, this novelty merchandise is completed entirely in Sterling Silver. A few variations exist over the years, however for a devotee of Hermès, this little field is definite to bring some pleasure and added interest to any assortment of rarities. In addition to the various dimension variants of the Kelly bag, Hermès produced a seemingly countless provide of restricted editions and exclusive collections to their high shoppers. These elusive collections introduced new life into the storied design, reinvigorating the mannequin season after season, keeping it fresh and integrating whimsy with every new launch. Some of us spent lockdown poring over funding purchases. According to Lyst, demand for Hermès luggage as a whole has spiked 430 per cent. 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Designed in the 1980s for British ingénue Jane Birkin, it has been transformed and reimagined many occasions since. In the grand custom of Goldilocks, Hermès has created the proper Kelly. wikipedia handbags Just a little bigger than the covetable child Kelly Micro and smaller than the fantastically basic Kelly, it has been made to fit all our fashionable contraptions—smart telephones included—while sustaining its petite insouciance. It might not have the power to be utilized the same method it obtained its name , however we adore it simply the same. Every product on this web page was chosen by a Harper's BAZAAR editor. I love any variant of that green hue and It is increasingly more troublesome to seek out handbag manufacturers that also offer leathers with that pigmentation. Actually, I was not entirely positive just which bag had arrived; we are actually in the middle of the season for Autumn/Winter 2020. She knows my style so I thought this may be a fun approach to do it (otherwise I will record every conceivable shade in my color vary, which – let’s be sincere – can get really tedious for whomever has to write down all of it down). There is not any occasion that the Hermes Pink Mini Kelly isn’t fit for. Today, classic Hermès scarves, usually adorned in wealthy colors and elaborate patterns, serve many functions, simply as they did back then. With so much uncertainty this yr and for the foreseeable future, it has been a balancing act between the serious and the frivolous…but during uncertainty, the frivolous could be a essential escape. With that in thoughts, I am so thrilled to write for you again; it’s okay to be gentle. The new version was smaller in size and boasted extra feminine curves. The epic saga of the design got here to a decisive crossroads in the yr 1958.

[kornum64gilliam]

3 Strategies To Consider in Extra Drinking h2o

Next a insignificant evaluation it is distinct that no just one actually understands exactly where by the indicating that you have to choose in eight cups of water each working day originates from. Some persons trace it back again to a examination research in the 1980's, and other people today today declare that scientific gurus commencing off telling men and women that quantity due to the simple fact it was a wonderful goal, but failed to have any scientific look into to again it up with. Equally way, the stage is crystal clear, h2o does marvels for your entire entire body, and your brain. Water is properly identified to cleanse your physique of risky chemical compounds by means of your intestinal tracts and also all more than your urine technique. With out proper drinking water utilization, our bodies break up down amazingly speedy, in a make a variation of times. With out foods, even so, some individuals can live for a seven days or two. That just demonstrates how essential h2o is to our bodies. rizkyboestommy.com are three quick suggestions for taking in a large amount extra h2o. one. Frequently have water effortlessly offered. I drive to acquire the twelve ounce bottles of consuming water and retain them in the fridge. Each individual time I go to the health and fitness centre I get a bottle. On my escape the doorway to accomplish, I get continue to keep of a bottle. In advance of a journey that will be 30 minutes or lengthier, I get a bottle. I get a bottle when I choose satisfaction in a film. Every single time I am sitting down down savoring Television set or a movement photograph, I will sustain the bottle in my hand with the offer with off. I pick a good offer of nominal sips till the bottle is lengthy gone. A marvelous strategy of making specified you eat much far more ingesting drinking water is to make unquestionably absolutely sure it is simply obtainable. two. Maintain it chilly. I do not know quite a couple folks who want to just take in place temperature total h2o, I unquestionably positive do not. You will consume a lot more if you go on to maintain your drinking water cold. I make selected there is regularly ice in my freezer, this make it definitely uncomplicated to have a chilly glass of drinking h2o anytime. three. Selected h2o in eating establishments. Just about every time I head out to consider to try to eat, I generally take in h2o with some lemon. The lemon offers a minor spunk to the fashion and the drinking water is usually very very good, revitalizing and chilly. Shortly after a tiny time you will stop craving your previous take in of solution and will commence to worth the model, or absence of flavor, that water presents. Give h2o a shot and your total human body will be happy! A wonderful technique of creating sure you consume considerably far more drinking water is to make confirmed it is conveniently obtainable. I do not know various men and women nowadays who like to acquire in area temperature ingesting water, I self-assured do not. If you keep your consuming h2o chilly, you will consume significantly more. Every time I go out to test to try to eat, I constantly get in ingesting h2o with some lemon. Right after a speedy time you will quit foodstuff craving your previous beverage of possibility and will start out to value the taste, or absence of taste, that h2o provides.

[aquamarinescarlet]

Don’t give up just yet

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.6k

Warnings: two curse word (I think), brief mentions of sex and cheating, angst (bare in mind these warnings don’t apply the way you think they do, you’ll have to read to understand)

Summary: The classic soulmate AU, sentences written on each other’s wrists, but with a twist.

Author’s note: This was basically an excuse for me to reinvent the soulmate AU with the wrist tattoos thing. It’s sorta angsty, but I just thought the ending was too funny. Just experimenting here, tell me what you think.

PSA: Dividers are the count down till the day: black is reader focused, red is wanda focused, gold/yellow is also reader focused, but I thought it deserved a little spark.

“You should call her, y’know.”

“Why would I do that? She made her point very clear.”

“It’s her wedding day, Y/N,” Mia reasoned, “and this fight was months ago, you have to get over it.”

You rolled your eyes at her insistence. This discussion has been happening every day for the past two weeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I the one who should get over it?” You emphasized.

“He is her soulmate, and she is your sister, the least you could do is pretend.”

“Ugh,” you let out a guttural scream, “I can’t do this anymore Mia, I stand by what I said. That man is an asshole and this soulmate thing is stupid. I don’t trust him, no matter what the words on both their wrists say, and I’m not gonna watch her go down with this and not do anything about it.”

Mia didn’t respond, she knew she’d reached your last nerve. You watched as the woman left your office, sending a last sympathetic glance your way before walking into the hall. 

Mia was right in some points, and you knew that. She was right about it being your sister’s wedding day and that you should be there to support her. She was wrong about you needing to be the one to apologize though. The way people manipulated their lives to fit this whole twisted Soulmate Theory made your blood boil.

The Soulmate Theory was quite simple: everyone was born with a sentence written on their wrists, popular belief is that those are the first words your soulmate will say to you. It was cute, and it worked most of the time, not for your sister though. Or at least you thought so.

Oli's soulmate was Isaac. They had met three years ago and eventually started dating. Oli was a firm believer of the Soulmate Theory and had never dated anyone before, so it was all new and exciting.

You started noticing the patterns roughly one year after they started dating. He was controlling her, discreetly, barely noticeable, but it was there. 

First with clothes, Oli had made it a habit to always ask for his opinions on her clothing, and he would tell her he hated something, regardless of her telling him over and over again she had liked it. You made little comments here and there about his actions, mostly jokes but with some truth behind, she didn’t notice.

Second was friends, Isaac would always want to meet Oli’s friends, and if she went out with one he didn’t know he would make her feel guilty. You started giving more serious warnings, pointing out what he was doing more clearly, she didn’t care and called you crazy.

Third was her feelings, he had his mind set on what her role should be in his life. He praised Oli endlessly when she cooked or cleaned. Other than that, he didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to her stories, didn’t appreciate her paintings and drawings… 

It got to the point where she wouldn’t want to paint anymore, when she was telling a story it would be without her usual excitement. Her smile no longer reached her eyes, she was constantly tired. 

You confronted her about it, several times, but it was of no use. You’d point out the facts and she’d retort with ‘he is my soulmate, the universe bound us together, he wouldn’t do this to me!’

Three months ago was the last time you two talked. She told you he asked her hand. She knew you would be against it, she tried to ease you into the idea of her being with Isaac for the rest of her life. You weren’t having any of it. 

After hours of screaming, arguing and loads of tears, she told you not to come to the wedding, and you said you wouldn’t. 

It’s now four days from the date and you’re not going as long as he’s the one she’s marrying.

You stared at the words on your own wrist. ‘It’s you’. That sentence haunted you for years. What a stupid set of words for your soulmate to say.

As a kid you adored the Soulmate Theory, you paid meticulous attention to the first words you’d exchange with anyone, you made new friends nearly every day in hopes of hearing those words, but they never came.

Until they came. At first it was exhilarating, but the ones you said didn’t match the ones on the person’s wrist. You were extremely disappointed. And then you heard them again, and again, and again… It became almost routine. Every single person you met would say ‘it’s you’ or some variation of it. 

You being who you are certainly didn’t help. During college you had started a tech company and now it had grown to be one of the biggest and most important in the field. The new inventions did win you several prizes and a lot of money. You were also stupid famous, being the young brilliant CEO and all. 

Ever since, you gave up on looking for your soulmate. It seemed counter productive to get yourself all worked up just for it not to happen every single day. You made your peace with it, although a small part of you just wanted to meet said person.

The situation with Isaac and Oli helped. Seeing that it could end up hurting you made it easier to not fixate on finding your soulmate. Nonetheless, the desire was there; hidden, pushed to the back of your mind, but still there.

You just wished your sister could see it too, that the Soulmate Theory is not the solution to all her problems. 

“Relax Steve, it’s all taken care of.” 

“What about the flowers? Did you book the buffet? Did you check with the band? And the decorations? I saw some people didn’t RSVP yet, should I redo the seating charts?” Steve rambled on as Wanda just laughed.

“The flower problem is solved, the buffet confirmed, so did the band, the wedding planner is working on the decorations and redoing the whole seating chart seems… unnecessary, they still have three days to confirm their presence.” She reassured the man who was more stressed than her about the whole situation.

“Okay, sorry, I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” He huffed, taking a seat on the couch. 

“It’s going to be perfect, don’t worry.” She couldn’t help the weirdness that surged upon uttering those words.

“How are you so calm?” Wanda just shrugged, not really sure how to answer. 

Steve took a deep breath and gazed at the red head, offering her a smile. 

“I’m going to sleep, all this wedding stuff has been stressing me all day.” 

“Okay,” Steve made his way to his bedroom but she called him before he reached the hallway, “thanks for the help Rogers.” 

“No worries.” He shot a last smile before disappearing. 

Wanda found herself alone in the living room, the silence only making her thoughts scream louder.

She would be married in three days. It seemed unbelievable. After losing her parents, being experimented on at Hydra, fighting along Ultron, losing her brother and becoming an Avenger, she never thought she would have time to fall in love.

Yet, here she is. Although the feeling wasn’t quite what she thought it would be. It wasn’t exciting, or nerve racking. She felt no different than any other day of her life. Steve seemed like the one who was getting married, not her. 

Vision is sweet and caring, she feels so happy around him. Then what is causing all these doubts to haunt her?

She knows what it is, she just doesn’t want to admit it.

Those words. Those stupid words painted forever on her wrist. ‘Don’t do this’. Ever since joining the Avengers she started using several bracelets to hide them, but they still burned on her skin every single day.

She’d heard of the Soulmate Theory at a very young age. Her parents had explained how those were the first words she’d hear from the love of her life. She would spend hours daydreaming all sorts of scenarios in which someone would say those words to her and they’d fall in love.

After her parent’s death, that stopped being her priority. At the Hydra base she’d only see her brother and a couple dozen different Hydra soldiers, too old and mean for a soulmate. 

Gaining powers was a game changer. She was older then. Stronger. They finally allowed her and Pietro to leave the base and create chaos in Hydra’s name. “Do good” in Hydra’s name. She believed she was doing the right thing. She truly did. 

Hearing her first ‘Don’t do this’ made her question everything. It came from a little kid nonetheless. A scared little kid. It must’ve been a mistake, she thought at the time. But that mistake happened, again, and again, and again… 

When she joined the Avengers her eyes were opened to all the pain and terror she had caused. All the people she hurt. Then it dawned on her, what if one of those ‘Don’t do this’ came from her soulmate? What if she had hurt them, or worse, killed them?

The idea terrified her. So she hid those words on her wrist. A reminder of the evil she’s done and the love she’ll never have. She promised herself to never look for her soulmate, she already caused them enough pain, they didn’t deserve to get tangled in the mess that was her life.

And then Vision was created. Him and Wanda got along greatly. He made her happy. They fell in love, or at least that’s what Wanda told herself, that she fell in love with him. It was possible, there’s no rule on the Soulmate Theory that says you can only fall in love with your soulmate. Plus, Vision is not human, so he doesn’t have words written on his wrist, he doesn’t have a predestined soulmate, technically he doesn’t even have an actual soul for this sort of thing. They could be each other’s soulmate. A loophole on this stupid theory.

Why didn’t it feel like that though? Why was she questioning it so much? And why now? Three days before her wedding?

She took off the bracelets and stared at the ink, brushing her fingers lightly over it. She loved Vision, she affirmed to herself. She wants to marry him. This is what she wants. And she believes in these words, for a while. Long enough for her to fall asleep, turning off her brain from overthinking the situation too much.

Work has had you occupied all week. With back to back meetings and loads of paperwork to fill out, you’ve barely had time to think of anything else.

But now it seems like everything is done and you have more free time than you’d like. 

You left the office early, not having much to do there anymore, and, instead of spending all afternoon home alone, you decided to go out for some coffee.

You were sitting on your usual table in the small coffee shop close to your place. It was calm, quiet and homely, a nice contrast between the places you frequent. The warm cup on your hands did nothing to distract you though.

The book you’d brought was long forgotten on the table as you glanced at your phone every few seconds. It’s two days till the wedding and, even though you tried not to think about it, you hoped your sister would text you saying she broke it off. It was unlikely, but wishing she could get some sense knocked into her wouldn’t kill.

You were so focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice a woman glancing at you until you caught her trying to call your attention.

“It’s you!” She said, astonished, pointing to the cover of a magazine showing a picture of you.

Recognizing that issue as being a rather old one, you just nodded and offered the woman a friendly smile. She took that as an opportunity to approach you.

“Hi. Sorry,” she sounded excited and also nervous for bothering you, “I just wanted to say what an inspiration you are to women all around, to me especially. I’ve been opening my own business and seeing what you do has been such an encouragement to me. So, thank you!” 

You were surprised by how nice she was. You’d expected her to ask you to invest in her business or something, like everyone who approaches you does, but she didn’t and it was a nice change of pace for once.

“What kind of business are you opening?” You asked. Listen to her talk would be a good distraction, plus, you could use the company.

“Oh, no, that’s ok,” she said, “I don’t want to bother you any further.”

“Please,” you urged, “I have the rest of my day off and I could use someone to talk to. Unless you’re busy, then I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you.” You laughed to ease the woman’s nerves.

“Sure?” You nodded and gestured to the empty seat across from you. 

She accepted it and you spent at least an hour talking before she had to leave. It was a pleasant conversation, she praised your work but didn’t refrain from giving some interesting criticism on your business. The topic of an investment or a partnership never even came up. 

It got your sister out of your mind for a while, although it didn’t last long.

Laying on your bed, your eyes fought to stay open, your mind swirling with all possible scenarios regarding Oli. She would be miserable if she went through with this, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You love your sister, you care so much about her, but she refuses to listen to your warnings. You could swallow your pride and go to the wedding. You could try and support her. But that would just make an accomplice to her stupidity and you’re not going to just stand there and pretend that that’s ok.

You thought about texting her, way too many times. But your relationship is already rocky as it is, the least you could do is hope she gets some clarity on her own.

One day till the wedding. She’s 24 hours away from the happiest day of her life. Why is it, then, that Wanda doesn’t feel as happy as she should be. 

She didn’t have to fake a smile, she was happy, but that smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

None of the others seemed to notice it. They just thought it was the nervousness of having everything set so the day could run smoothly. Vision even brought up the possibility of her having cold feet about it, but she denied it thoroughly, assuring him she wanted this.

And she does. She wants to get married, have kids and build up a family of her own. She wants it all. 

It still seemed weird though. Like something was off. 

“Steve just called,” Nat interrupted her thoughts, walking back into the room, “everything is set, prepped and organized for tomorrow.”

“Let’s try on the dress then.” Carol urged the girl to put on the piece of clothing for the millionth time.

It did her justice. Slim at the top and flowy at the bottom, accentuating all her curves perfectly. It wasn’t big and puffy but light and delicate. She smiled at her own reflection as the other women crammed around her to take a look.

“You look beautiful.” Pepper said in awe. 

“She does, doesn’t she.” Laura agreed, even though she’s the one that helped her choose it.

Wanda didn’t say anything, just smiling and appreciating her own image, excitement growing on her chest from wearing it in front of everyone the next day.

The girls spent hours planning how they would do her hair and makeup. There were so many ideas, disagreements and arguments that Wanda was completely drained by the end of the day. She was happy though, to see her friends being there for her, eager to help and make sure everything was perfect.

It was nice to have people around since she lost so much throughout the years.

After the women were gone and she found herself alone, Wanda’s thoughts from the beginning of the day came back, hitting her like a train.

Was she really more excited about wearing a dress than about getting married? Was this a sign of her actually getting cold feet? 

She shrugged them away, affirming to herself these are just stupid uncertanties people always get before their wedding day. At least that’s what happens in movies, so nothing to worry about... right?

Thankfully your work slump had subsided as now a gigantic pile of papers sat on your table. Some contracts had to be restructured and a set of stores had to be chosen to distribute your newest technology. 

You thrived in that scenario, with countless reports and 2D drawings of the prototypes scattered about the room. Your mind was going a thousand miles a minute, seemingly unaware of the events that would take place later that day.

That peace, however, was short lived. Your brain short circuited for a second when you checked what had caused your phone to buzz.

Two voicemails. 

From none other than Isaac. 

It was right then that it dawned on you: Oli was marrying that asshole today. In only a couple of hours actually.

Before listening to the messages you started to record your phone screen, maybe he would try to threaten you or something and you could use that to convince Oli to break things off with him. It wouldn’t kill to be precautious.

The first one was sweet, although it almost made you gag, it was sent with good intentions. Isaac was asking you to go easy on Oli, regardless of your feelings towards him, you should be supportive of her and her decisions. Too pretentious for your liking, but sent with good intentions nonetheless.

The second one started awfully weird. Some muffled sounds, things you couldn’t quite make out. Until you heard a loud moan, your eyes going wide as you pushed your phone away from your face. Isn’t it technically ‘bad luck’ to see the bride on the wedding day? You didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts as the voice on the phone started to moan each other’s names. The woman didn’t sound anything like Oli, because it wasn’t Oli. Isaac was cheating on your sister? And on their wedding day!?

Oh you weren’t about to just let that go. You stopped the recording, thanking your intuition, and quickly ringed Oli.

It rang once… twice… three times… and then voicemail. You tried at least four more times until you figured she just didn’t want to talk to you.

“Marie can you come in here please?” You called your secretary.

A few seconds later she popped her head inside your office.

“How can I help?”

“Can I use your phone!?” You sounded more exasperated than you wished.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to call your sister today?” Damn, that woman knows you too well. You sighed loudly.

“Please… I just…” You trailed off, sounding desperate this time around.

Thankfully Marie gave in and lent you her phone. You typed Oli’s number and rang it, several times, she didn’t pick up once. You were starting to get truly desperate now.

“Do you have the address?” You handed Marie her phone back.

“Here.” She handed you a piece of paper from her pocket. 

It was on the other side of the city, at least a one hour drive. You quickly grabbed your coat, purse and phone, rushing out of the office, only being stopped by a hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You gave her a reassuring smile and a quick nod before making your way to your car. Marie has been working with you since the beginning, she always knew when you were up to nothing good. She also knew that when you set your mind to something, there was no stopping you.

The drive was excruciating. You kept making stupid mistakes and taking wrong turns. Everything seemed to work against you, being it: accidents, red lights, slow drivers, pedestrians. Even the birds chirping around were pissing you off.

You finally reached the venue and stopped the car messily in the front entrance. You quickly ran up the stairs, and almost tripped and fell when you heard the officiant was already performing the ceremony.

You reached the doors and yanked them open, hopefully interrupting the wedding before it was too late.

“Don’t do this!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, nearly breathless. 

The guests all turned towards you, surprised. So did the couple on the podium.

Except those people weren’t Oli and Isaac. You recognized them, Vision and Scarlet Witch, or at least that’s the names they went for on television. You’ve seen them before, doing business with Stark had its perks, but had never been introduced.

You could’ve felt bad, but your stomach was a turmoil of faith and nausea. You were either really early or really late to stop Oli.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “wrong wedding, carry on.” You turned around to leave, but not before noticing the bride glancing at her own wrist.

You didn’t get the chance to take a single step out the door before her voice filled the silence that had settled.

“It’s you.” You stopped dead on your tracks. Your wrist burning slightly, not the kind of pain to cause discomfort, just enough to be noticeable.

Those words. 

Her looking at her wrist.

Your’s burning now.

You turned back around, earning all kinds of confused glances from the guests. Your eyes fell on the woman, a smirk plastered on your lips.

“Seems like this isn’t the wrong wedding after all.”

[ace-thinks]

Building Your Glass Closet

I made a post about coming out via the glass closet which is basically just dropping subtle hints over time until the people in your life get the message, and someone asked for tips on how to do this. 

Unfortunately, I can’t guarantee that you won’t still get the “you just haven’t met the right person” response while you’re using this method, but I still think this is worth a shot. 

At the very least, it can lay the groundwork so that if you ever come out explicitly, people will be able to think back to all of the very ace/aro things you’ve said over time and they may not be as surprised or reluctant to believe you.

Okay so without further ado, here are some ideas that you can use for inspiration as you attempt to create a beautiful glass closet for yourself:

1. Talk about yourself

Find a way to slip some variation of “I never really had any crushes in school” into conversation.

Try to phrase this in a way that it’s clear you’re saying “I did not get crushes because I don’t get crushes” instead of “I didn’t get any crushes because no one at school was my type.”

When people make quips about you dating someone, casually respond with things like:

“I hope not” “Not if I can help it” “That would be unfortunate” “Yikes that would kinda suck.”

You can say these in a way that’s light but still clear that you’re not joking.

2. Ask questions

Start sprinkling very aro/ace questions into conversation.

Casually talk about the latest pick for “Hottest Celeb of the Year” or something and throw in “What does ‘hot’ even mean anyway? I never know what people are talking about when they say that.”

“My friend was telling me about this crush they have, but like how do you even know when you have a crush on someone?”

“I saw this post online that said that guys and girls can’t be friends because one of them will always catch feelings, but like what’s the difference between being friends and being a couple anyway?”

Make it clear with each question that you’re being lighthearted but also you’re genuinely confused/trying to get an answer.

People around you might still brush these off with a “You’ll know one day” or something like that, but I bet they’ll start to notice a pattern.

General aroace confusion is also useful:

“I heard [show/movie] has like a lot of sex scenes in it. I will never understand how people are into that stuff tbh.”

At first they might think you’re talking about sex scenes, but try to make it clear that you’re actually talking about sex in general. This is also a chance to slip in that you also don’t get sexual attraction in general.

You can use a similar method for really sexual ads.

3. Show them some ace stuff

If you ever watch TV together, then perhaps you can make sure to casually watch some very ace content around them from time to time.

A particularly ace episode of BoJack Horseman or some other ace media (unfortunately there isn’t much).

If you have a way to watch YouTube on your TV or something, maybe you can find a youtube video that features ace people or someone explaining asexuality.

If they ask why you’re watching this, you can just say it seemed interesting or someone told you about it or something.

The goal is to basically expose the person to the concept of asexuality without it having to be about you in particular. 

This could be especially helpful when combined with the other steps because if you make the idea of asexuality fresh in their minds and then start saying very aro/ace stuff around them, they’re probably more likely to connect the dots.

You can also use these videos/episodes as a way to gauge their attitudes towards asexuality in general.

This is also a way to strike up general convo around asexuality.

4. Reference representation

“Apparently there’s an ace character in [show/movie/book]. That’s so cool!”

You could also openly critique some particularly bad ace representation/erasure.

Critique is gives you a chance to go a little deeper about asexuality in general and dispel myths while also potentially getting the person to engage with the nuances of the orientation etc.

And if they ask why you care so much you can either come out or come up with some excuse (good ally, it’s just interesting/important, I have ace friends, etc.)

_______

Again, these are just general ideas. You can use them exactly or treat this as an overall template that you can adapt for your own style/purposes.

I’ve used all of these in some way or another and have had good results so far, so I hope this is helpful for y’all too!

Let me know if you use any of these idea and how it works out for you, and also feel free to add your own “glass closet” strategies!

@apocalypsewriters (hope this helps!)

[existslikepristin]

Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

[spencersmagic]

Middle of Adventure - 505 series.

(found on pinterest).

masterlist // 505 series // taglist

summary: a part two to "greet me with good bye" (found here)

couple: fem reader x spencer reid

category: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: general criminal minds violence, mentions of guns, curse words (f*ck/f*cking), crying.

words: 1.8k

time to read: 10 minutes.

***

It was quite ironic.

The space between them had never felt as empty, as ruined, as it did right now. It felt like the love, the care that they had had for each other all those years back, all the patience and truth they had shared, had been stolen. The woman in front of them had done it for them.

The last two years seemed empty now. Emotionless. Worthless.

The feelings they had for each other had always been unspoken. Excluding a few instances, core instances that needed verbal confirmation, they had always understood each other without having to share a word. They were both profilers, for God’s sake.

Spencer’s fidgeting in the plane rides on the way back from a tough case was always understood by Y/N. She had always made sure to hold him, caress his hair or read to him when he was feeling anxious. Similarly, when she was feeling weird after an uncomfortable encounter with a disgusting unsub, closing in on herself, carrying herself differently, he would always pick up on it. He’d cover her with a blanket and tell her random facts about the stars, or lemons, or the first shoes discovered… Anything that could get her mind away from the filthy words he had spewed at her.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

Because they cared. And they wanted the other to be okay.

The lack of words didn’t mean a lack of communication. There was constantly a line of communication between the two of them, established through body language, looks and short beginnings of sentences right before the other picked up on what they wanted. Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

This had taken time. Of course, it had. At first, they were clumsy. Y/N’s anxiety attacks had gone worse once when he had tried to distract her by talking about the climate crisis (a horrible idea, if you ask me). Similarly, she had learned that after Spencer’s rare, but long talks with Hotch weren’t the moment to make sarcastic comments about, well, anything.

All they had was silence and the promise to love the other if they needed it.

But right now, as they stood in front of the unsub, then woman who had been tormenting Spencer for the past few months with little letters, threats and promises to hurt everybody he knew and loved (or at least everybody who was left), it felt like nothing could ever be the same.

She had called herself “The Woman”, which Y/N understood. She wanted to be everything to Spencer.

She stood still, calmly, knowingly. Because nothing he did could change the course of action that was about to occur tonight. The stillness in the weapon she had aimed at Y/N made sure to make that clear.

“Why would I need to break up with her, Clara? Y/N and I aren’t together” Spencer repeated calmly, trying to focus on his training so he could try to ignore the soft sobs that Y/N was letting out.

The gun rattled as Clara shook in anger.

“Bullshit! I’ve seen you together. For God’s sakes, I’ve seen the way you fucking look at her. You-“she laughed manically “You look at her like she’s hung the fucking stars – like you’re supposed to look at me! So don’t you dare fucking lie to me “. She was met with silence.

“You know…” tears welled in her eyes, strong façade faltering. “You were going to come back. We were supposed to meet, and you were supposed to love me like I have all these years. You abandoned me!” she screamed. “And now you’re with-with her”.

Nothing.

“Do it or I will shoot her!” she screamed, sending spit flying around. Flinching, she shakily repeated Clara’s words.

“Do it, Spencer. I can take it” she spoke clearly, forcing her voice to sound unworried.

It was quite ironic. Because they had been in a similar situation at the beginning of their relationship. And it would end like this, too.

“I can’t, Y/N. Y-you know I can’t! Why are you making me do this?!” he raised his voice suddenly, ripping his lungs open as he sunk down onto the floor. He crumbled upon himself as he sobbed. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Y/N.” he repeated over and over, the last bit of self-restraint leaving his body. “I can’t do it. You are everything. I c-can’t hurt” he hiccupped.

Y/N’s eyes absorbed Spencer every little movement and tremble. She felt as though he had kept her heart right up until this moment, bubble wrapped and intact, but now he was crushing it as he hugged himself tightly. It was too much to bear.

“Spencer, if you don’t do it, I will” she whispered. He looked up, tear eyed, and looked at Clara. Her smile was wide now, red nose, enjoying the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Spencer stood up shakily.

“Clara, you were my classmate in school. Having the chance to go to university, don’t you think I had to take it? Did- Didn’t you want what’s best for me?” he tried to reason. “You love me, right? Don’t you want me to be happy?”. She smiled sadly at him.

“I do. But not if it’s with her”.

He turned to Y/N, eyes filled with tears. “Y/N” he requested. Still, she couldn’t bear looking at him. “Y/N! Y/N. Please look at me” he shook. She turned.

“Y/N…” he whispered, taking a look at her, bloody and beaten. “Y/N, I can’t live without you. Since I met you, I haven’t been able to.” He paused. “You’re everything. I don’t how to live without you”.

“Spencer, you will have to learn. The middle of an adventure is such a perfect place to start” she whispered back. His face changed completely, eyes wide and surprised.

**

“Oh god! This is so tedious. When can we leave?” had whispered Reid, curling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“We’re here as guests, Spencer. It would be rude of us to leave” she had reprimanded him, seemingly unaltered by his puppy dog eyes.

“But-but my love” he all-but-whined. “I wanna go home”.

“Yeah? You “wanna go home”? Or are your pants getting a little bit too tight from staring down my top?” she shot back. He didn’t dare reply.

“Do you want to play, or not?” Y/N clarified. He nodded eagerly. She grabbed him by the hair as they slow-danced in the middle of the lounge with the other couples at Rossi’s new wife’s mansion.

She pulled him close, lips close to his ear in such a way that appeared innocent to outsiders. Her words, though, were another story.

“Okay, love. “Adventure” is our safe-word. I’m going to tease you and, the moment I bring up that word in conversation that’ll mean that you’ve done well and should now play along. I’ll make up some excuse and we can leave this god-awful party. Sounds good?” once again, he nodded eagerly.

**

“You know, Clara. Maybe you’re right” Spencer begun, looking into her eyes. “If she’s so okay with letting me go, she clearly doesn’t deserve my time” he swallowed his tears, hoping he was being convincing.

Clearly, Clara didn’t need a lot of convincing. After all, she had been looking for every single indicator in his words and looks in front of the camera to believe he was madly in love with her, and seeking her out.

She lowered the now-forgotten weapon, throwing it on the ground and herself on Spencer.

“You really think so, my love?”

A pet name Spencer had heard coming from Y/N, and had never felt as disgusting as it did in that moment. Spencer couldn’t even think about what it was doing to her.

He just nodded, hugging her back as convincingly as possible.

Sometimes, we do what we can to make our loved ones happy. Sometimes, we stay. Other times, we leave. We give and give for them. At the end of the day, it’s human nature to want to created strong bonds with those you love the most.

Spencer and Y/N weren’t an exception. They gave so much to each other – to their relationship. They loved with such a love that is only seen in movies, with a passion that only occurs during the darkest hours, and a heart that has only been broken and mended over and over.

In retrospection, Clara is no different either.

As Spencer pushed her off, Y/N threw herself to the ground to grab the gun, did a somersault and pointed it at her. Right on cue, Morgan and Prentiss burst into the old warehouse, pointing their guns at Clara.

“Step away from my boyfriend, you bitch”.

**

It felt almost surreal.

Especially to Spencer, who had been battling with the thought of her for the past three months. It felt like this moment would never come – like a breach in the space-time continuum had been formed and he was now experiencing a reality parallel to his own.

But feeling Y/N’s touch, hearing their mutual comforting words, stumbling like their relationship had been, was grounding. Perhaps not comfortable, or stable, of secure just yet. But it sent a message to both of them. “No matter what happens, no matter how many variations exist in your life, I will never be one. I’ll always be here”.

“You were supposed to come back! You were supposed to love me, and give me a beautiful life. Why didn’t you?” they heard Clara screaming. Tears were streaming down her face as the cop sat her down.

“You could’ve sent a letter, Clara” he reached to grab her handcuffs, which were clasped behind her. Y/N watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes, tears still cascading down her cheeks.

“Would that have made any difference?”

“It’s time to go, Ms. Sondermann”.

“Would it? Or would you have stayed with her?”Spencer stayed silent. “Don’t think you’re anything better than me. You did everything for her! Just like I did. You’re no different than me.” she screamed, as Prentiss pulled her away.

Spencer turned to look into Y/S’s eyes. She looked so different when the fear of losing her wasn’t looming around. Tired, of course, from the three day search, but hopeful.

He hadn’t seen her hopeful in so long.

As he closed in on her, looking so purely loving, she immediately understood. the dust settled and she realized just how much he had been through.

She suddenly understood.

**

The lack of words never meant a lack of communication.

There were no words exchanged between. Because they always knew what the other needed.

She spread her arms, ready for his embrace at the same time he ducked his head to hold her around the waist. His lips twitched, all the unspoken words at the top of his tongue.

“i-i know, love. i know” she spoke between sobs.

Everything was clear between them. They always just knew.

**

guys that's the end of the 505 series!!! i hope you liked it.

i'm super sad that it's ending, but the fics i've got in mind are really cool, and i can't wait to write them + share them with you all <3

(im lowkey feeling nostalgic - i've fallen in love with this take on the characters and their dynamic).

taglist: @lady-anon-x @username2002 @eoupe @galaxydefenderjulia @spencerreid-mgg @spenxerslut @urie-bowie-mercury @onyourfingertips @big-galaxy-chaos @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @tbuhgs @exhaleli

tags not working: @huntheimpossible @idontwantyourcookiesthanks

you can join my taglist on the link at the top

happy reading. i love you. stay safe and happy <3

[intheticklecloset]

A Good Tickling (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

This one is a direct sequel to “Wardrobe Malfunction,” as requested above. It’s also officially the longest fic I’ve ever written for any fandom, clocking in at 3,000+ words, so buckle up! I really had fun delving into this one and exploring Kirishima and Bakugou’s friendship on a bit of a deeper level while still turning it into a tickle fic by the end. I sincerely hope you enjoy! <3

6: “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

8: “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

20: “Stop resisting!”

19: “I see that smile. Come on, laugh!”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.

Warning: Slight angst.

~

Kirishima was quiet. Like, really quiet. Too quiet. And Bakugou was extremely aware of it.

The silence had come on gradually, over the course of a couple of weeks. At first it was just small pockets of time during which the redhead seemed to shrink in on himself for no discernable reason, but he’d soon bounce back when someone started talking to him, Bakugou included. But as time went on, those pockets of silence became entire hours, which became days by the time two weeks had gone by.

Then Bakugou noticed something even more disconcerting.

Kiri would only be silent around him.

He’d walk into a situation in which Kiri was his normal self, having a good time with their other mutual friends and classmates, and boom. Instant shutdown. It was impossible to ignore after the second time it happened that Kirishima was going silent because of his presence, and Bakugou was actually getting worried about it.

It all came to a head one night when Bakugou went downstairs for dinner, where Kiri and some others were already starting to eat. As soon as he entered the room Kiri’s face went dark and he stopped speaking, which was already bothersome to the atomic teen before the redhead then stood up, put his practically uneaten dinner in the fridge, and left the room.

That was the moment Bakugou realized he’d done something wrong. Somewhere along the line and without knowing it, he’d upset Kirishima so much that his closest friend couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him anymore.

No, he thought. I have to fix this. So he turned right back around and followed Kirishima to his dorm room.

“It’s open,” Kiri called when Bakugou knocked, and as soon as the door was open enough for him to see who was visiting, he turned his back and didn’t say anything.

Bakugou felt awkward closing the door behind him as he entered the silent space, but he’d resolved to find out what was going on. He hated this rift that existed between them now. He wanted to close it up. To be close with Kiri again. He missed him, dang it.

For a long while words failed him. How was he supposed to approach this when he didn’t know what was wrong? Finally Bakugou cleared his throat. “Hey. Are you mad at me?”

Kiri’s shoulders slumped. “No.”

Well, that was a relief, at least. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Bull. Bakugou fought back an angry retort and said in his calmest voice, “You can run from me all you like, Kirishima, but at the end of the day you can’t hide that you’re upset with me about something. It’s written all over your face every time you look at me. So…” He sighed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kiri still wouldn’t look at him. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to you,” Bakugou shot back, “and I don’t like that you aren’t yourself around me lately. Where’s that loud, obnoxious, spiky-haired idiot I usually hang out with?”

“I don’t know.”

Bakugou’s irritation was rising, but he used every ounce of willpower he had to fight it. He tried to think rationally. When had this all started? Not long after that day in the locker room when he called Kiri’s costume stupid. Was that it? “Is this because of what I said about your hero costume?”

Kirishima tensed, but shook his head. “No.” His voice was quieter now. “It’s not that.”

“Well, you started being really weird around me after that, so what gives?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The redhead got up from his seat at his desk and finally turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes – the upset, lost, desperate look – was like a sucker punch to the stomach to Bakugou. Guilt washed over him, and he still didn’t even know why.

“Yes, it does.” Bakugou felt something inside him soften. He dared to take a step closer. “Please, Kiri, tell me what I did wrong. I want to fix it. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

Kirishima seemed to have some kind of struggle within himself. He grabbed onto the back of his desk chair and gripped it so hard Bakugou thought it might splinter. Finally he muttered, “It’s just…I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing’s working.”

“What isn’t?”

“I’ve tried tickling you,” Kiri continued, his eyes everywhere but the blonde. “I’ve tried outing you to our friends, I’ve tried tickling you in public, teasing you in public, saying things I thought would make you angry enough to retaliate…nothing!” He shoved his chair into his desk so hard it made Bakugou jump. “And then when you finally tickle me and call it revenge, we’re in the middle of class so I can’t even enjoy it because I don’t want to get in trouble. And I try challenging you openly and still nothing!” The redhead was on a roll now that the words were finally coming. “Even Sero has tickled me nearly to death, and he almost never does that kind of thing. Everyone seems to get it. Everyone can tell when I want it. But even when I outright tell you to do your worst, you do nothing!”

Bakugou was stunned.

“Why is it,” Kiri continued, voice rising, “that all of our friends know that I love being tickled and will tickle me when I want it, but my best friend just stands there even when I’m practically begging him to destroy me? I don’t understand!”

This time, the silence was on Bakugou’s end. He had no idea what to say. He’d never seen Kiri so openly upset, and over something that could have so easily been avoided if he’d just pulled his head out of his butt long enough to see how much damage his apathy was doing.

A long minute passed before he was able to speak.

“I…” Bakugou cleared his throat. “I didn’t know…I mean, I knew you liked it, but…I didn’t realize how much…” He frowned. “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

“Ugh!” Kirishima covered his face with his hands and cried, “Yes!”

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Bakugou took another step closer. “Kiri, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. It…it means a lot, doesn’t it?”

“It’s so stupid,” Kiri growled, but Bakugou could tell even before he turned his back again that his friend was on the verge of tears. Another sucker punch to the gut. “It’s so stupid. It’s just tickling. I shouldn’t be so upset over this, right? It’s so dumb of me.”

“Oh, heck no.” No way was Bakugou letting him go down this path with his thoughts. He strode right up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around. “Do not feel bad about this. This is my fault. This isn’t because you weren’t clear enough. I knew what you were asking for and I just stood there, like you said. Like a complete and total jerk. Do not apologize for my mistakes. Let me do that. Kiri, I’m so sorry.”

Kiri said nothing, but he swallowed thickly, and Bakugou pulled him into a hug before he could think twice about it. He held the redhead close and waited, hoping that his apology would be accepted. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever. Then, finally, Kiri wrapped his arms around him, too, sighing heavily into his shoulder.

“What is it?” Bakugou asked softly, genuinely, trying not to disturb the moment. As much as he hated sentiment, he didn’t want to screw this up any more than he already had. “Why is it so important to you? I want to understand.”

“That’s just it,” Kiri mumbled in reply. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. It’s just…it’s so much fun, and it makes me feel good, and when it’s with my friends I know I can feel comfortable and be open about it without judgement, and even when I’m getting absolutely destroyed I know I’m safe and they’ll stop when I really need them to. But until then I can just…laugh until I can’t breathe.” The redhead pulled away from Bakugou, keeping his eyes averted. “I don’t know. It’s just so much fun. And with you, I know you’re good at tickling; I’ve heard Midoriya talk about it, I even experienced it a couple of times. And you’re my best friend, so more than anyone else I want you to tickle me into next year. So when I openly asked you to and all this time has gone by and you’ve had lots of opportunities and you didn’t, I just…” Kiri bit his lip. “I felt like maybe you really didn’t care. You act like it a lot, but this time…this time I wondered if you—”

“I care,” Bakugou said quickly, desperate to bring an end to that train of thought. “I care, Kiri, I’m just a complete jerk.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “God, I really screwed things up. I’m an idiot.”

Kiri offered a weak smile. “It’s okay—”

“No it’s not okay!” Bakugou snapped. “Are you kidding me? Look how upset you are over this! How is any part of this okay? No.” He shook his head. “No. I have to fix this. I want to fix this.” He thought for a moment, then met Kiri’s eyes. “Do you still want me to?”

Kirishima stared at him. “W-What? Now?”

“Or later,” Bakugou said quickly. “If I haven’t ruined everything. But – but yeah, I’ll do it now, if you want.”

Kiri took a step back. “Talk about whiplash.”

“I know I’ve been a jerk, and I know you’re upset, but if you’re okay with it I’d much rather make you laugh right now��”

“Bakugou,” Kiri said, “I want you to tickle me. But only if you want to. Don’t do it just because you feel obligated. Do it because you mean it.”

Bakugou nodded once. “I mean it. I’ll tickle you into oblivion now, and then later I’ll do it again and again and again. I do want to make you laugh, Kiri. Really.” He dared to smirk. “But even more, I kind of want to see how much it will take for you to beg me for mercy.”

Kiri frowned. “It will take a lot. I’m not kidding about that.”

“Then bring it on.” Bakugou tackled Kirishima onto his bed, making the redhead yelp in surprise. He swung a leg over to straddle him and paused, just once. “You sure this is okay right now?”

“For the love of god, Bakugou,” Kiri groaned, “if you don’t make good on your promise right here and now I swear I will end our friendship and then end you!”

“Good enough for me.” Bakugou grinned wickedly, shoving Kiri’s arms above his head. “All right, then. When you really can’t take it anymore, tap out. Until then, I will not stop. Got it?”

“Prove it,” Kiri spat, but his eyes were hopeful.

“Keep those arms up there.” Bakugou growled, releasing his hold and sitting back. “Move them and I’ll make it worse.”

“All bark and no bite?”

“Hah.” Bakugou smirked. “One more thing. I want to make you laugh so hard you forget your own name. But before that, I want to see how long you can go without laughing. Bet you’re not going to be very good at that part.”

Kiri smirked back. “Bring it on already.”

Bakugou did, lightly trailing his fingers from Kiri’s underarms down his ribs and sides to his stomach, watching the redhead twitch a little but – surprisingly – do very well in keeping himself in control. “Hmm,” the blonde mused. “Should have had you take your shirt off. That would make this easier.”

“Want to enjoy the view?” Kiri teased. “I told you I look good in my costume as it is.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”

“The shirt stays on. You made me wait this long. Now I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I don’t think that will be hard, considering I can just do this.” The blonde shoved his hands up under Kiri’s t-shirt and raked his nails down his ribs roughly, making Kiri choke on a startled yelp. “Giving in already?”

“No way!”

“We’ll see.”

Bakugou got to work, starting very lightly and increasing the pressure with every pass, making sure to focus on the ribs when he circled back to them each time, knowing that was Kiri’s worst spot and very likely the place that would break him and make him laugh first. Kirishima kept his arms above his head as instructed and his smile widened more and more, but he did better than Bakugou was expecting at keeping his mirth at bay.

“Dang, you’re stubborn,” the blonde muttered after a few minutes of this. “Stop resisting, already.”

“Y-You’re the o-one who wanted m-me to h-hold out,” Kiri stammered. If nothing else, he sounded close to breaking, and that was satisfying just on its own. “I’m c-c-committed n-now.”

“Well, knock it off. I see that smile, but I want to hear you laugh, spiky hair.” Bakugou decided to be a little mean and press his thumbs into Kiri’s bottom ribs, kneading gently. “Come on. Let it out.”

“Agh, n-no,” Kiri’s voice wobbled as he tried to stay in check, his grin splitting his face. He squirmed a little. “That’s cheating!”

“Oh, is it? Too bad. Playing dirty is kind of my thing when it comes to tickling. Ask Deku.”

“I k-know all about that. He’s t-t-told me how r-ruthless you ahare.”

Bakugou kneaded deeper. “Was that a giggle?”

“Ah! N-No, no!”

“It sounded like a giggle.”

“It w-w-wasn’t!”

Feeling evil, Bakugou kept up his kneading pace and began to tease. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

Kiri whined. “Oh, y-you so don’t p-plahay fair!”

“Now that was a giggle.”

“You s-s-suck so much--!”

Bakugou dug his fingers in deep to Kirishima’s ribcage, and with a shriek of surprise, the redhead finally broke.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK I WAHAHAHAS DOING SO GOHOHOHOHOHOOD!!”

“Too good,” Bakugou corrected over Kiri’s laughter, impressed his friend’s arms were still above his head, albeit flailing now. “I was getting tired of you showing me up from such a helpless position. Forget resisting. It’s time to make you laugh your guts out.”

“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU SOHOHOHOHON OF A--!!”

Bakugou slapped a hand over his mouth and tickled wildly with his other hand, enjoying the look of sheer panic that came over Kiri’s face. The redhead started to bring his arms down. “Ah-ah-ah! What did I say? Keep them up.” Kiri whined, fisting his hands into his hair while his legs kicked wildly, the sounds of his distress muffled. “Well now, this is satisfying. You look hilarious, all freaked out like that. Didn’t think I’d pull out all the stops, did you?”

Kiri screeched when Bakugou started pinching his bottom ribs.

“I mean, I suppose I could also tie you up if I really wanted to be mean. But that’s your call, and you can’t talk right now, so I’m not going to assume anything.”

Kirishima started to bring his arms down again, then settled for covering his face with them. His laughter was loud and crazy, even behind Bakugou’s palm over his mouth. The blonde smirked down at his friend, marveling at how much he seemed to enjoy this, despite the obvious ticklish distress he was in.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘I thought you said you wanted to hear me laugh? Why are you covering my mouth?’ Right?” Bakugou chuckled. “I do want to hear you laugh. But it’s so much fun to make you desperate first. You’re just dying to let it out now, aren’t you? No more holding back?”

Kirishima managed a split-second glare in the midst of his muffled hysterics before nodding frantically.

“That’s what I thought.” Bakugou finally pulled his hand away and used both hands to rake up and down Kiri’s ribs.

“SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMEWHEHEHEHERE ELSE!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, PLEASE GO SOHOHOHOMEWHERE EHEHEHEHEHELSE!!”

Bakugou laughed. “What’s wrong? Can’t take it here anymore? But I want to hear you laugh, Kirishima.”

“I AHAHAHAHAHAHAM LAHAHAHAHAHAUGHING!!” Kiri screamed, his arms flailing wildly above him. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!!”

“Honestly, I’m just trying to find the technique that will make you bring your arms down to stop me,” the blonde said with a shrug. “So I can make it worse.”

Kiri’s laughter was wild already, and they were only a few minutes in. He squealed and shrieked and thrashed and kicked but – somehow – kept his arms above him the entire time. Bakugou was impressed. That had to take serious effort on his part.

Now, how to break that concentration?

He’d tried kneading, pinching, and raking – all obviously effective forms of ticklish torture. But nothing had made Kiri’s fight-or-flight instinct kick in the way he’d hoped it would. What was he missing?

“Oh, I think I know what will drive you nuts.” Bakugou laughed, suddenly leaning down to blow the longest raspberry he could manage on Kirishima’s bottom ribs. Sure enough, not a whole second had gone by before he felt Kiri’s hands grabbing at his hair frantically.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DOHOHOHOHOHON’T DO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!!”

“Well, well. I told you to keep your arms up.” Bakugou smirked, grabbing Kiri’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress by his sides. “Now I’ll have to punish you.”

Kiri gasped for breath while he could, his eyes wide and cheeks pink and hair wild, but behind it all, it was obvious to Bakugou that his best friend was having the time of his life. He couldn’t believe he’d made him wait this long. Made him practically beg for something as simple as a good tickling.

“Y-You’re gonna…b-break me,” Kiri stammered between breaths of air, sounding surprised. “I w-won’t be able to…to take it at this rate!”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it? You wanted me to destroy you, right?”

Kiri beamed. “Yeah.”

“Still good to go?”

“Yeah!”

Bakugou took a big breath, then blew another raspberry. Then another, then another, then another. Then he got to work absolutely destroying Kirishima with tickle torture, digging into his underarms and sides and hips and knees and feet, but especially his ribs, until the minutes added up and added up for nearly an hour, and by the time they were done Kirishima was laughing so hard his voice was giving out and tears streamed down his cheeks and he was pounding the mattress as desperately as he could to gain some shred of mercy from the tickle monster that was Katsuki Bakugou.

And when it was all over and Bakugou finally relented, Kirishima kept giggling even without the tickling stimulation, shaking his head in disbelief and gasping for oxygen. “I c-can’t…breheheathe…”

“You asked for it,” Bakugou reminded him, but he couldn’t help but grin at the mess he’d made of his closest friend. “And I promise, the next time you ask for it, I won’t hesitate to do this to you again. And again and again. As many times as you ask for it, I’ll destroy you, Kiri.”

“W-What about…playful tickles…?”

“Those, too.” Bakugou nodded. “I swear I’ll stop being an idiot about this. You ask, I’ll answer. I promise. I won’t ever let you give me the silent treatment again. I’ll be a best friend worthy of the title.” He wanted to cringe at himself for saying it, but it was all true, and besides that, Kirishima’s response was more than worth it.

“You were already a great best friend,” the redhead replied tiredly, lifting his head off the pillow to grin at him. “This just makes you that much better. Thank you, Katsuki. Seriously.”

Bakugou swallowed, feeling a little awkward due to all the sentiment in the room. He nudged Kiri’s leg. “Thanks for putting up with me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Sure you do. You’re a little rough around the edges but you’re a cool dude, King Explosion Murder.”

Bakugou’s lips twitched. “I told you if you called me that again there would be consequences.”

“Yeah?” Kiri chuckled. He leveled a clear, challenging smirk at the blonde. “Prove it.”