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mokulule · 1 year

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 7

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

I had wanted to do some tag appreciation for the previous part before uploading this but well stuff happened and I need to leave for work soon, so priorities and all that, and I bet ya'll rather want the update than my chatter XD But know that I really appreciate the comments and tags you guys leave me <3

Damian sat in a corner of the library, knees drawn up to his chest. The crumbled up piece of paper burned in his left hand. It shouldn’t. He’d had a hunch and he’d followed it. He’d been right! This was pertinent information. He should have informed Father immediately and yet… He breathed slowly out his nose. He turned his hand around palm up so he could glare at the offending ball of paper resting there.

He was right, but then why was he so uncertain? Why was he hesitating? He was Damian Wayne! Son of the Batman! He should not dawdle, that is not how he was trained!

No matter how much his so called siblings would tease him for his height, there were advantages. Like how when Todd had pulled the dazed Ghost to his feet, the short man had never really looked up which meant that Damian who was shorter had seen the way his eyes glowed green, unlike his father. Because a short while later, when he pushed away from Todd his eyes had been blue. Father would assume the ghost’s eyes were blue, because he hadn’t seen the green. Father would have no idea to look into what Damian had, because he’d missed a vital clue. A clue Damian had been withholding. Damian let his head fall down onto the arm holding the paper and sighed. He was withholding far worse than a clue now:

There were traces of Lazarus Water in the blood sample. Damian felt the childish urge to scream, but he would not give in, he hadn’t fallen that far. It always came back to this, always; like a curse on Damian’s family, one thing after another and it always ended up back there - by the sickly green glow of the pits.

Father wasn’t always exactly rational when it came to the Lazarus Pits or the League of Assassins or Todd.

And maybe Damian had gotten a little bit used to Father looking at him like his son. Maybe he just wasn’t all that excited for Father to look at him like Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson again…

Alfred, the cat, slinked around the door left open a crack, instantly drawing Damian’s eyes. The tuxedo cat padded silently over to him and stopped. He looked expectantly at Damian with the same unimpressed gaze of his namesake. Damian cracked a fragile smile, and uncurled into a crosslegged position.Satisfied Alfred jumped into his lap. He started batting at the paper ball and Damian quickly stuffed it into a pocket and acquiesced to the demand for pets. It was barely a moment before Damian’s effort was rewarded and the purring started. Slowly, Damian relaxed back against the wall and his shoulders gradually came down from their tensed position. Animals were so much easier to understand than people.

The Ghost had purred…

The sound had been just at the edge of his hearing, but it definitely had sounded like purring. Father hadn’t heard it. Damian had asked him if he’d heard the cat, but he’d dismissed him as if he thought Damian had heard a real cat. There was no way he would have done that if he’d actually heard. The sound… it had been something else; there had been this inherent happiness to it.

Damian would admit he’d been startled. He’d never heard a human purr before. Not even Catwoman, his father’s illicit paramour, actually purred, not really. She did something with her voice at times, probably the closest a human could come to a purr, but not like the almost continuous sound of a real cat. Humans just weren’t built for it.

Which pondered the question, what exactly was the Ghost? He had reacted very oddly to Todd (Damian would admit in the privacy of his mind that he’d been alarmed to see the man nuzzle into Todd’s chest as if he was actually an overgrown cat in disguise). There was Lazarus in his blood, so maybe the reaction to Todd wasn’t so strange. He hadn’t reacted in any way special to Damian, but that wasn’t so odd either. Damian knew Todd was different. There was a reason Grandfather feared him. The Pits hadn’t revived him, they may have brought his mind back online and brought some lasting effects, but Todd had crawled out of his grave months before that; Todd was something else.

Maybe Todd and the Ghost were something similar?

Todd had definitely heard the purring. He had been completely unlike himself, there had been a complete lack of the usual hostility from him afterwards. Todd must have also seen the eyes, he had to have made the Lazarus connection. He hadn’t reported anything about it either. But again this was Todd, he wouldn’t share information with Father unless he thought someone’s life depended on it.

Whatever DNA had been in the blood sample was useless for analysis, it had been too damaged, so that didn’t bring them any closer to figuring out what he was.

Then there were the powers, Todd didn’t have those. Invisibility and intangibility… No, the Ghost couldn’t actually be a ghost, could he?

Alfred nudged the hand that had stopped the petting and Damian dutifully started back up again.

Richard often acted like he didn’t have two brain cells to rub together, something that fooled even Damian in the beginning, but he was surprisingly astute if he let you see if. Damian had presumed the Ghost codename had been merely a ploy to annoy Drake and Gordon, but Richard was not beneath hiding a theory as a joke. If he was correct, he would have all the power, if it wasn’t it was after all just a joke - it was a good strategy.

As if summoned, Richard stuck his head into the library and glanced around. He seemed just about leave when he caught sight of Damian’s nook.“There you are Dames-“ he strolled inside, “I wanted to say bye before heading home, so I’m glad I found you.” He crouched down next to him and smiled widely eyes crinkling with it. It was so effortless for him.

Damian frowned.

“Hey, you okay?”

Damian glanced up briefly. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, but maybe Richard could answer something else.

“Do you think the Ghost could actually be a ghost?”

And there was that sharpness behind the kindness, that moment of calculation of what might have brought this on, whether Damian knew something, before it was hidden behind a smile again.

“Dami-“ he started and lovingly ruffled Damian’s hair. Damian quickly batted his hands away, before he got the misconception that he liked it; because he didn’t! Blue eyes crinkled further and then he continued, “we’ve seen stranger, haven’t we?”

And that brought Damian to a stop, hands still raised protectively over his head. Alfred looked between the two of them and gave an affronted mrauwp.

“So sorry Alfred, old boy, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

While Richard appeased Alfred, Damian slowly lowered his arms. Richard was right of course, but there was something else too, the assurance in the flippancy. Whatever the Ghost was, it didn’t really matter, they would deal with it, like they did everything; everything had some sort of weakness. And the Ghost hadn’t actually been hostile.

The core of the issue was the Lazarus Water. Lazarus Water didn’t enter people’s blood on their own and Grandfather kept a sharp watch on all the pools. There was a very big risk the Ghost was affiliated with the League. Coerced? Created? Murdered?

Damian narrowed his eyes, it was useless to ponder without more information, but the League at least was something Damian could look into discreetly. If there was increased activity in Gotham he would find it. He didn’t have to tell anyone yet.

“You work out what was bothering you?”“Tt.” He quickly looked away from Richard’s knowing eyes. Unfortunately that left him open for another hair ruffle. Richard laughed and jumped away and back to a standing position in one smooth motion, before Damian could retaliate somehow. Damian glared and only got a soft smile and wave in return.

“See you in some days, baby bat.”

Damian pressed his lips together and waved dismissively. “Go, before I decide revenge is worth removing Alfred.”

Richard’s laughter followed him out the door and down the hall. Damian finally allowed the small smile to form. Whatever happened, whatever Father may think of him keeping secrets, he could at least count on his big brother to stay the same. Oo o oO

Tim had been reviewing the new proposals from R&D when Bruce had stopped by.

The spectral calibrator team had obviously been disappointed to learn they would be reassigned and that the larger project to tune into electromagnetic signals from other dimensions had been put on indefinite hold without the calibrator, but they were a professional bunch and they had quickly come up with some fresh ideas.

Tim really didn’t want to consider what use the thief would have had with the calibrator, but it was kinda his job. It was meant to help hone into the (for lack of better term) frequency of a given dimension and remove the noise from the various other planes of reality - he just really hoped they weren’t dealing with a science portal to Hell scenario. Magical portals were at least usually temporary in nature but most importantly they were the JLD’s problem, not Tim’s.

Maybe the thief just really wanted to listen to some alternate universe rock?

Yeah, fat chance.

Tim had not found signs of the stolen items being resold, which pointed towards the thief having specific buyers or he was building something himself. At least the spectral calibrator was safe in the Cave.

A small beep notified Tim that the decryption program had a match on the passcode for the phone Bruce had dropped off, and he rolled over to have a look. The phone was not a brand Tim recognized, it was from the pre-smartphone era and didn’t even have a camera. It had been easier for Tim to just take it apart and hook it to power to get it up and running - it was then he noticed that someone had modded the receiver and transmitter, it also didn’t have a sim card.

Despite the lack of sim-card, when Tim looked at the now open phone it claimed to have a full signal from the most prominent telecompany in the larger bay area. Tim raised an eyebrow - curious. The text messages were empty, and a root around in the settings found that read messages were automatically deleted after 24 hours - the thief were really keen on keeping his secrets.

In the “phone book” which was a rather quaint old school term for the contact list, Tim finally found something that alluded to a normal life. Something that could maybe give them some information: Dad, Jazz, Mom, Sam, Tuck, Val - pretty sparse contact list. All the numbers had the same area code, which put them somewhere in the Midwest, if Tim was remembering correctly.

Tim considered for a moment then pressed the up button until he reached “Mom” again and pressed enter. Butt calls had been a real problem with this phone type if people forgot to lock them, it wouldn’t be so strange if Tim didn’t say anything. With any luck they’d get confirmation on the name Danny.

There was a single dial tone then a feminine voice announced:

“The number you have called cannot be reached.”

Woohooo yay, I think we're done with "the detectives detective-ing" for now which was the extend of my notes before writing the last two parts (parts 6 and 7 are going to be a single chapter once they go on Ao3). Hope you enjoyed, I got a serious case of Damian feels while rewriting chapter 1 for Ao3 (here's a link if you missed it), so that's the explanation for why Damian decided we needed his pov Next

Masterpost for subscription

#dp x dc #dead on main #Yeah sorry no Jason here this time either #Damian decided he wanted a turn #and well poor Jason isn't doing anything interesting right now #he's just panicking over the gaps in his memory #and not daring to leave his apartment before he has the pits more under control #he's afraid he might kill someone if he's Red Hood right now #maybe I do need to write a small bit of his pov #oh well #detectives doing detective-ing #Jason is catnip to Danny #Missed Connections

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jenny-from-the-bau · 1 month

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i don't think this counts as really spooky or horror (and monster is debatable, depending on your opinion of shapeshifters) but hopefully you enjoy anyway. i was going to write a happy ending but then i decided fuck it, emily angst. also, apologies if this makes absolutely no sense, i've proofread it a million times but it's late and my english language skills deteriorate significantly when i'm tired lmao

emily as a shapeshifter who only believes she's useful when she becomes someone else but she feels like she loses a piece of herself every time. growing up, she would have so much fun shifting. she'd turn into animals or do funny impressions of her teachers behind their backs and she'd always win at hide and seek, but as she got older, it became something she did for other people instead of herself. she would make herself shorter to appeal to boys who didn't want to date girls taller than themselves or she'd become a prettier, cooler better version of herself so that she could make friends every time her mother was assigned to another country and she had to start over at a new school. it became obvious very quickly that people, even her mother, liked her more when she was someone else

the decision to become lauren reynolds is an easy one, since she's the only one on the task force who can literally become somebody else. every day she looks in the mirror, she feels more of herself slipping away, but she knows it's for the greater good. no one else could do the work she's doing. shapeshifting to ian doyle's type and becoming lauren reynolds is important and useful. she wouldn't be useful on the other side of things. she'd be letting her skills go to waste if she wanted to work on the behind the scenes aspects of profiling terrorists

when she gets back from the doyle mission, she tries her best to become emily again, but it's hard. she can't remember what emily is supposed to look like or who she's supposed to be. she feels awkward in her body, and she overcompensates by constantly shifting. she rarely keeps the same hair colour or eye colour or stature or face shape or gender for more than a few days

in the bau, she volunteers herself to be the honey pot every time. after all, it's what she's good for. she's sure it was why they had decided to hire her after all. she can be whoever the unsub wants her to be, whatever hotch thinks would be the most effective in an interrogation room. perversely, she takes refuge in these moments where she allows herself to be bait for unsubs. becoming somebody else is a hell of a lot easier than being herself. she finds it simpler to be what somebody else wants rather than who she really is, if only because she doesn't know who emily prentiss is supposed to be

emily's fine with this until she's not. they have a case where the unsub is killing victims who remind them of themselves, and it forces emily to confront the fact that she has no idea who she is. even to her closest friends, she's nothing more than who they want her to be. she's a combination of physical features and personality traits that she's stolen from other people, and she isn't really sure there's a person underneath it all. the person masquerading as emily prentiss is a broken, empty shell held together by false memories and a patchwork quilt of identities and she's the only one who can see that there's nothing (no one) inside.

-🐙

Okay, but what if she looks like herself when she sleeps well, so JJ starts taking pictures of her occasionally when she's asleep on the plane or in shared hotel rooms. Like maybe Emily doesn't even know. She was never comfortable enough with Doyle to sleep deeply, so it wasn't an issue, but when JJ shows Emily a polaroid one day, Emily is so confused. She hasn't seen her real self in so long and she's so confused about who that person is.

JJ is the only person who knows what Emily really looks like, so they start a little ritual of JJ holding a mirror and helping Emily shift back to herself. It gets easier over time, but Emily still gets frustrated. JJ never pushes, and she is nice to Emily in any shape, but she makes sure to be a really kind to Emily in her original body.

Bonus: Emily's hair changing colors when she gets flustered by JJ 😭

#btw JJ is a werewolf in this #but Emily doesn't ask what JJ's deal is for a long time and then when she does #JJ is like 'oh here' and just turns into a giant fucking wolf #like on all fours #her head is level with Emily's #so big and fluff and Emily is so overwhelmed that she just sprouts dog ears gkanf akfna #ask #🐙 anon

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goldenagenonsense · 1 year

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Action Comics #5 [October 1938]

After last issue, I feel like there’s not much that can unpleasantly surprise me. Superman’s questionable morality aside, we have a ways to go before we even get to Batman, much less Marvel comics and whatever else I find. It’s also a shorter story today - nine pages instead of thirteen. Hopefully that’ll make it a bit easier to go through!

Not much to say about the cover. Could be vaguely racist. That is not my problem.

On the other hand, the pre-story ad page had me double-take for a second when I thought it was Oliver Queen. But no, it was just a random dude with the same facial hair and haircut. Though now that makes me wonder what situation poor Ollie could have been caught up in to end up in a flooding dungeon.

We open up this story to telegraph lines broadcasting news of a terrible disaster. The Valleyho Dam is cracking under the strain of a huge downpour; should it give way, a mountain of water will sweep down the valley, killing thousands and destroying fertile land.

…you know, I think I saw a clip of this story before, when I was watching a youtube video on Superman. It pulled on some clips from an animated series that was clearly based on these original tales. Dunno when said series was animated and broadcast, but I kind of want to track them down and watch them, since they’re tied into this whole ‘golden age’ thing. Probably will be a while, though, if ever. Don’t want to spoil myself on content that’s 85 years old.

[Friend insert:

Solem: That'd be the Fleischer series. Classic short films from back when animation was too expensive to be shown in anything but cinemas, made in 1941 and 1942.]

Sounds like I have something to look forward to then in the nearish future!

At the Daily Star, the editor-in-chief demands Clark be brought to him. Lois tells him that Clark’s not in the office; the editor tells her to look for him and have him report in before he loses his mind. Lois asks why she can’t handle the assignment. The editor says it’s too important for a girl. Lois is not impressed with that logic, thinking mildly violent thoughts as she heads out.

Coincidentally, Clark is just outside the building. She puts on an eager air as she approaches him. Clark is shocked she’s actually happy to see him. She asks him to do her a favor and cover an assignment for him; he leaps on the task, eager to please. She tells him to head to the local hospital’s maternity ward, since a Mrs. Mahoney is expecting… septuplets? (My god, that poor woman. Someone help her. Can a person even have that many kids at once?) Clark thanks Lois for the chance to handle it.

While Lois is getting herself a ticket to Valleyho, Clark is at the hospital, learning that Lois lied to him. Gasp! Honestly, that makes way more sense than having to worry about the poor theoretical woman he could have had to deal with. Clark starts to make his way back to the office, wondering if Lois double-crossed him.

The editor is not pleased when he finally shows his face - the biggest news story in months on the fire, and Clark wasted time at a hospital?? Clark tries to explain that he didn’t know, but the editor isn’t hearing it - the last train’s already left! Clark’s fired, he can report to the cashier.

Clark, however, has bigger fish to fry. He finds himself an empty room and strips out of his work suit, revealing he had his costume on underneath, cape included. Which, you know what, sure, why the fuck not. Maybe he just keeps the cape in his briefcase and puts it on afterward.

Superman leaves the Daily Star from the roof, leaping out into the night. Leap after leap, covering huge distances, until he’s caught up to the train that Lois is on. He hits the ground running, quickly outpacing the train, all while smugly thinking about how if Lois thinks she can scoop him, she’s got another thing coming!

He quickly reaches a bridge the train is set to go over - only to stop when he notices something wrong. A torrent has loosened the bridge’s supports, causing the track to tilt at an angle that makes a wreck inevitable. The train whistles in the distance - there’s no time to lose. Without a moment’s hesitation, Superman dives forward, seizing the supports and starting to push until the tracks level out again. He holds it in place as the train passes by, then allows it to crash.

The passengers are startled at the sound, quickly gathering at the windows to see what happened. They gape at the collapsed bridge behind them, one of them commenting on how they’d be dead if it’d happened an instant earlier. The drivers note that they need to send a warning at the next junction for the other trains.

When the train arrives at Valleyho, Lois has to fight through everyone getting on board. She quickly flags down a taxi, but the driver wants nothing to do with going to the dam - she can have the car, he’s getting out of there! Lois, not to be deterred, does take the taxi for a spin, speeding her way to the dam.

God, Lois truly is her best self, in full gremlin mode. She will get her story, dammit, even if it means throwing herself bodily into danger. It’s good to know that that’s been a core trait of hers right from the start. I already think this is my favorite story so far, and it’s half because of her.

Meanwhile, Superman’s struggling to hold the dam together, desperate to buy the people below enough time to evacuate.

(Which, can I just say, this is the other half of the reason this story is delighting me - we’re seeing the core of the hero that we’re most familiar with 85 years later, the man who has incredible power and uses it to save lives. Like, yeah, the bits with him tackling rich people corruption, including flexing his investigator skills, is well and good, and gives a showcase of what he as Clark capable of. But him holding the dam together to buy the people below time to escape is just. Mmm. That’s the core of Superman we all are familiar with.)

Eventually, even Superman isn’t enough to keep the dam up; with a huge roar, it falls to pieces, sending floodwater roaring down the valley. Superman leaps above the turbulent rapids - but Lois can’t do the same, stuck in her taxi as the waters rush towards her. Superman spies the car, and rushes to save her, but the waters are faster, dragging the vehicle under and along for the ride. Lois braces herself, expecting a watery death -

Only to be pulled from the car by Superman, who quickly rushes towards the surface with her in his arms. Once they’re on the shore and Superman can readjust her, so she’s in a more comfortable bridal carry, he takes off like a shot, racing ahead of the floodwaters.

Lois stirs, holding on tightly as he leaps up to a high pinnacle. He sets her down so he can put all of his strength into pushing on the rock; soon enough, the peak starts to crack, cascading downwards into the path of the water. The rocks seal up the mountain gap entirely, forcing the water to take another route away from the town.

Superman exhales in relief - that had been too close. Lois is ecstatic, gushing about how he saved all those people, before declaring that she could - and would - kiss him. Superman starts to refuse, only to be cut off by the kiss, temporarily dazed afterward from how good it was, much to her amusement.

Superman sweeps her off her feet soon after, taking her to someplace she’ll be safe - where he’ll be safe from her as well. During the trip, she talks about how the first time he’d carried her like that, she’d been frightened - of the trip and of him. But now she loves it, and him! When he finally sets her down at Valleyho town, she begs him to stay, but Superman merely wishes her well and takes off.

Soon after, Clark calls in, stating that he’d gotten himself a plane to Valleyho and had some sensational news. He asks if he’s rehired; based on his reply afterward, the answer seems to be yes! When he finally leaves the phone booth, Lois happens to be there. Clark states that while the stunt she pulled wasn’t nice, he still likes her. Lois snubs him, thinking about how Clark is a spineless worm she can hardly bear to look at, especially after having been in the arms of a real man.

And with that, this story is a wrap! Wow! Short, but I loved it. This feels like the first establishing moment for both of them, in multiple ways. Here’s to hoping we get more stories like this going forward!

#action comics #dc comics #superman

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moemoemammon · 3 years

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Ok. I need to get this idea out to someone. Solomon and mc are messing with potions for class and he accidentally gives mc a “youth” potion that makes you look younger. It turns mc into like a 4 year old for like a couple of days. What do you think would be the demon brothers (any) reaction to babysitting their master? What would they do? Idk i think it would be a little funny.

You’ve Gotta Be KIDding me, MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

He'll be exchanging words with that sorcerer bastard later. You can bet on that.

Lucifer doesn't take kindly to the idea of MC having run ins with magic in general, but at least this seems to be on the tamer side of the magical spectrum. And he had to admit, it's sort of amusing.

He intentionally watches you try to handle things on your own. Be it reaching for things too high up, stubbornly carrying things too heavy for your tiny arms, or making messes when you try to tidy up, Lucifer waits patiently until you ask for help (or until he can't take it anymore).

Treats you like he always does, despite your size. He doesn't talk to you like a child, or try to force toys and nap times onto you, but may or may not tease you when it's only the two of you. After all, you may look like a child, but that doesn't mean you are one. It's still funny to harass you a little, though.

"As independent as you may be, please refrain from trying to climb up onto the counter. If you need something, ask one of my brothers, or myself. If that isn't obvious enough, perhaps a 'time-out' is in order?"

Mammon

When Mammon recovers from laughing for twenty minutes, (and also making threats on Solomon's life) he then decides to take a billion pictures of you. Now calls you 'munchkin' and variations of it.

And if you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he is now. You're ACTUALLY helpless and vulnerable. I mean, you'd hardly make an appetizer for a random demon! So Mammon's gotta keep an eye on you. Maybe even a toddler leash-

Unintentionally treats you like an actual child. His older brother mode kicks in, and he finds himself taking care of you as naturally as breathing. Mammon? Being responsible?? It's more likely than you think.

He hands you a cup of juice before you can say 'I'm thirsty'. He'll slide over some sliced up fruits before your stomach has a chance to growl. You're tired? No kidding. That's why he's got a blanket and pillow on the sofa for you.

"Where do ya think you're goin', short stack? Nowhere without ME, that's where! I already told ya, if there's somethin' ya need, just tell me!" "Huh? I'm spoilin' ya too much? S-so what if I am?!"

Levi

Solomon came in with a child in tow that looked a hell of a lot like MC, and this man nearly had a heart attack. There's no way... did those two have a secret love child?! Th-that's just-!! Oh, it's only MC.

WAIT A MINUTE...TH-THIS IS....! ISNT THIS JUST LIKE 'DETECTIVE C*NAN'? Uwaaah... Just look at you! You're still just as smart as before, but you've become super small! Talk about the ultimate gap moe!!!

Levi isn't a big fan of the idea of tiny, sticky hands touching his things, so he's glad you've still got your normal brainpower. That being said, he finds himself talking to you normally. Maybe even easier than before!

It kinda throws him off that you guys can't do the things you'd normally do together. Your fingers don't have their usual dexterity so playing games is a challenge, and your attention span is a little shorter so these TSL marathons are killing you. But have no fear, Levi knows a ton of other things you could do together! He won't let something like this spoil his time with his dear Henry!

"If you can't use the controller, let's try something that doesn't need one! I've got a new Ruri Hana VR game with REAL motion and voice tracking! If you say the spells out loud, you'll cast them in game! Ah, and it auto-adjusts to the player's height, so there's nothing to worry about!"

Satan

HES DOING HIS BEST NOT TO LAUGH. SATAN WILL HANDLE THIS WITH POISE AND GRACE, BUT MAN....

Watching you struggle to enter the House of Lamentation in your oversized RAD uniform nearly sent him to the stratosphere. He inhaled tea when you almost tripped over your blazer and had to get a couple of slaps on the back from Asmo.

Does his best to find a cure for your 'little' problem, but the most that can be done is waiting it out. In the meantime, would you like him to read you a story? Large books are probably difficult on your tiny hands.

Constantly catches himself treating you like a tot. He's not trying to, but he can't help himself when he sees your round eyes staring up at him, or when he watches you try to climb up onto an armchair.

"Up we go- There. It must be hard for you, having to climb up into the chairs like that. I've got a stool if you'd like to use it? Though, I don't mind if you sit on my lap, too." "Hm? I'm embarrassing you? I-I didn't realize how overzealous I was being. Ehem...."

Asmo

Oh that Solomon and his silly spells and potions, always making trouble! It's just one of his many charm points! And seeing as there are no permanent consequences from this harmless mishap, Asmo's enjoying it to the fullest.

Can you blame him? You're SOOOO cute~! So tiny and adorable! Why would've know that was possible?? Look this way, MC! He wants to take some pictures of you! Lowkey uses you as a photo op prop

He used to work part time at a daycare, you know? Asmo's great with kids! But that also means he's treating you like one. There's personalized snacks, cute little nicknames, and he's already gone and bought you a week's worth of clothes. Nobody tell him it'll only last a day-

He can be a little annoying with the baby talk and all the little activities he's planned for you, but you can tell he's enjoying himself.

"MC, look~! I've got plenty of ribbons to decorate your hair with! I'll let you choose your favorites, and then we can set out in town!" "Hm? Where are we going? To the playground, silly! You must be dying for a play date after being stuck in this dreary house all day, right?"

Beel

He was kinda teetering between whether or not he should throw Solomon across the yard like a football when he saw him carrying a teeny MC, but all was forgiven when he learned it was an accident.

Has now designated himself the permanent MC carrier. Your feet will never touch the ground so long as you're a child. And it's no problem for the likes of Beel, when you're as light as a feather! That makes him a little more conscious about being careful with you though-

Be it piggybacking or carrying you in his arms, he hasn't released you since he's spotted you. And don't think he's forgotten about feeding you. Beel's also taken your meal prep upon himself. You'll prefer things that've easy to eat, right? Though it kills gum to give you smaller portions than usual.... it feels cruel...

Somewhere between babying you and treating you as usual. He speaks normally to you as he always does, but prioritizes your needs over everything else. He wants to make sure you're well taken care of until this potion wears off.

"You're sure you've had enough to eat? I know I gave you a snack earlier, but... to think you really can't eat as much as before.. I'll talk to Solomon again. It must be torture to have such a tiny stomach, I'll do my best to get you back to normal."

Belphie

There's obvious opportunity here, and Belphegor won't let it go to waste. (No not for murder)

He's getting a kick about your new mini mode. How's the weather down there? Do you need him to pick you up so you can reach the high shelves? Don't worry, he'll get you a sippy cup.

When the teasing has settled down, he pays attention to a more pressing matter: you're now the perfect side for cuddling. You're a living hot water bottle, not too big, not too small, tiny and soft and adorable. Er, he won't mention that last part though.

Anyway, Belphie thinks a little kid like you should go on and take a nap now. It's exhausting having such short legs and wandering around the house all day, right? He gets it. You look tired and he knows the solution.

"Ah, you're just as cozy as I thought you'd be... Though, it feels kind of weird holding you like this. It's like holding a stuffed animal, but you're not nearly as cute." "Pfft, what's that face for? Sorry, sorry, I was only teasing."

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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nat something about toji drives me absolutely feral, can i have a scenario or something where he meets reader at a bar and they have a steamy one night stand i don’t know i just want this beeg beefy dilf to absolutely ruin my puthy (fem reader please!)

anon, i really hope you have a corruption kink

Favourite (So Far) - Toji x Fem!Reader (5k)

Toji sees you sitting alone at a bar; all quiet and soft and unsure, and absolutely begging to be ruined - and he decides he can help with that.

warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. not sfw, mentions of murder. corruption kink, virgin reader, dacryphilia, fingering, coming inside, dirty talk.

Toji normally doesn’t bother lingering after he’s held up his end of the bargain, but the money is burning a hole in his pocket and the minute he’d left the body of the man he’d been hired to kill locked in the back office of the bar, he’d remembered you.

He estimates he’s got a good half an hour before anyone realises the man is dead. If they’d wanted him to clear up after himself, they should have written it in the contract – still, with how awkward you’d looked and how your eyes kept darting about the place, Toji is pretty sure he’ll have you away from the bar and with his arm around your waist in . . . ooh, ten minutes? Fifteen, at a push.

He knows your type.

You’re uncomfortable, watching your friends go off and flirt and dance – pulling at your skirt (you’re uncomfortable in that, too), tugging your thin shirt up to cover your chest, ordering something non-alcoholic and looking morosely at it. Your eyes avoiding when men try and catch your gaze, your posture tensing – he’s pretty certain that you do not want to be here, and Toji is going to offer you an alternative that he thinks you might prefer.

You don’t notice him until he’s right beside you (people never do), leaning in against your ear, one of his arms slapping on the bar beside you, caging you in on your barstool. You start, moving back, blinking your pretty eyes at him in clear surprise, your mouth a soft ‘o’ – ah. Toji can tell you’re the kind of girl who isn’t used to male attention, who doesn’t think that you’re anything special. Shy. Probably untouched-- he’s grinning at you, and he doesn’t miss the little swallow, the flash of interest in your eyes (girls like you always like the idea of getting involved in something a little dangerous)--

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?”

The voice is rough and low and dark, startling you from your reverie. Your friends have all, indeed, long gone – after sighing at you that you’re no fun, that they shouldn’t have asked you to come out with them anyway – you’re surprised by the man it belongs to, all raven hair and piercing green eyes and a scar on his lip that your eyes can’t help but trace the line of – how does somebody end up with a scar like that?

“Oh,” you bluster, feeling embarrassed and unsure by the way he’s looking at you, the easy way he throws out the pet name, the casual authority he’s emanating by how you’ve been caged. “I’m-- I don’t really--”

He chuckles.

“Me neither,” he says. “Lemme get you somethin’ soft, then--”

It would be easier, he thinks, if you had agreed – if you’d been softened a little bit by the buzz of alcohol. Still, he knows that what he gives off is heady enough that you’ll come with him anyway – he doesn’t drink himself, so he’s not exactly going to blame you for wanting to keep your wits about you. Smart thing, for all of how vulnerable you look in a short skirt and high heels and a low-cut top. He’s ordered something for you before you can refute – you can’t deny to yourself that it’s nice. It’s nice to have someone be interested in you. It’s nice, too, that said someone is rugged and six foot something with corded veins and muscle in thick biceps and forearms.

You’re staring at him, and Toji allows it, letting his own gaze crawl across your pretty face, your body, the way the cheap lights of this dive are picking out the shine in your eyes and the gloss of your lipstick.

“What’s a cute little thing like you doin’ on her own somewhere like this?” He asks you, lifting the glass to his lips. You try not to stare at them, though your stomach is twisting. You shrug, awkwardly.

“I got dragged here by some friends,” you say, inclining your head towards the dance-floor, where your friends are very much living up to their earlier assertion that they were going to have a wild time and if you weren’t going to join in, then you could just wallow in your misery.

“Ah,” he raises his eyebrows, eyes briefly brushing over where you’d indicated before returning to you. Something about the way that those eyes are pinning you like a butterfly to a cork board makes you squirm, heat curling in your lower belly. Nobody has ever looked at you like that before. This man is staring at you like he wants to take you apart, and it’s exhilarating. “You not the dancin’ sort, huh?” Another swallow. The bob in his throat is mesmerising. “Can’t blame ya. Pretty thing like you’s probably inundated with attention the minute y’get out there--”

You laugh, softly, heat rising to your cheeks. Toji can’t help but think how cute that is – you’re so obviously unaware of yourself. When he gets you on your back, he knows you’ll have that certain kind of naivety that never fails to get him hard and aching in his pants; wide eyes and bitten lips and breath dying in your throat at the touch of his teeth and hands and cock.

“Nothing like that,” you say, “I just--”

Your eyes catch something. Toji looks too, as you’re interrupted by a pretty girl tottering up to you both in an even shorter skirt and even higher heels. Her eyes linger on Toji, a fraction too long, before she turns to you and pouts and says your name, making you wince. There’s a whining tone to her voice.

She’s complaining that someone’s spilt a drink over her, and Toji sees now that her expensive-looking shirt is stained dark brown. He hadn’t noticed the scent of beer wafting from her because of the overall air of the bar is absolutely saturated in it, but now that she’s right there . . . he wrinkles his nose.

“You have to come home with me, nobody else will,” she tugs on your arm. “And you said you weren’t having fun anyway, so you can always stay there, but I need to change out of this--”

There’s a world-weary quality in your eyes. Something that suggests to Toji that you’re used to being the designated person to take care of your friends, to dropping things to clean up after them – those big eyes and the downturn of your mouth and the softness of your voice all suggest to him that maybe part of the reason you’re so demure, so . . . innocent . . . is because you haven’t had a chance to explore anything else.

Toji drapes a thick arm around your shoulders. You jump at the contact – but almost as if it’s against your will, you nestle into him. Closer to him. A prey animal knows when it’s being protected, after all – even if it doesn’t know, yet, that he’s the predator.

“We’re a bit busy here,” he says, keeping his tone affable with a knife-sharp edge. The girl opens her mouth, as if she’s going to protest – but Toji grins, his eyes darkening, his mouth tilting to show just a little bit too much teeth. He lets himself draw himself up a little taller, so that his breadth and his height and the taut muscles beneath his tight shirt are unarguable. Your friend falters, shoots you a look, and then shrugs.

“F-fine,” she says, “I’ll go on my own--”

She walks away, pouting, storm clouds rising off of her. You’re trembling imperceptibly (adorable) – he thinks this might be the first time you’ve ignored one of your friends. Eager to please little thing, he supposes – the kind of person who wants to be liked and will do almost anything to keep it that way, with big doe eyes and a trembling lip and your chest thrust out unconsciously.

Oh, he will ruin you, and you’ll thank him for it afterwards.

“Sorry if I’m oversteppin’ my boundaries there,” he says to you, and you look at him with your eyes big and wide and wet your lips, his cock giving an answering throb. You breathe very softly;

“N-no, thank you, it’s . . . it’s nice to not have to deal with them, for once--”

Toji leans further into you, his arm not leaving your shoulders – close enough that his breath tickles the shell of your ear, and your brain short-circuits at a handsome older man leaning so close and intimately to you.

“You don’t wanna stay here, though, do ya?” His other hand is suddenly on your leg, calloused fingertips brushing the soft skin of your thigh. Your heart skips a beat, your body reacting – threads of heat sewing themselves into knots between your thighs. “You wanna split?”

His eyes do not stray to the clock behind the bar, but he estimates it’s been about eleven minutes. Longer than he was expecting, but – as you bite your lip and stand up, letting his fingertips drag dangerously close to the part of you between your legs, Toji decides it’s worth it.

His place is nothing special. For a man as well-paid as he is, you’d expect something a little classier, maybe – but for a man with the kind of profession Toji Fushiguro has, he doesn’t spend much time in it. He’s too busy travelling to care about it beyond anything other than a place to crash, eat, and bring home his conquests. And you don’t seem disgusted by it as he pushes you roughly into the room, arm locking around your waist, mouth dipping to taste you – so Toji doesn’t worry about it too much.

You’re still trembling against him, your entire body thrumming with energy that you’re not used to – but that all works to his advantage. It works to the advantage of directing you into his room, until your back hits the bed with a soft ‘whoomph’ of air and Toji is kneeling over you, your eyes big and wide and blown as they look up at him.

You’d been so easy to convince back here. You’d made a couple of quiet whispers about how you shouldn’t, the way that good girls like you do – but his fingers had cupped your cheek and his body had pressed against yours and he’d smiled that dangerous knife-edge smile and you’d been putty in his hands, trembling kneed and so very adaptable as you’d walked beside him with your breath unsteady in your chest at your own daring.

Now, though, with a man’s bed behind you and a man’s cock digging into your stomach where he has you caged underneath him, things are beginning to feel far more real. You take another shuddering breath, not meeting his eyes as you whisper;

“I—I haven’t--”

Oh, fuck. If you knew what those little words did to him – if you could have heard the monster roaring in his chest at how excited he was that he’d not only get to utterly ruin you, but to get to be the first one to do it . . . He’d let himself hope, based on your way of holding yourself all demure and prim, that you’d be a virgin, but to hear it from your own lips with your skin rapidly heating up under the confession.

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” Toji practically coos at you, as his big fingers go to your shirt, tugging it off with expert precision. “I ain’t gonna break you—”

(Well. Not in any way you aren’t going to beg for.)

Breath caught in your throat as your bra is unclipped, the lacy garment dropped onto the floor. His own shirt follows – you can barely stop yourself ogling him, the firm abdominal muscles, the scars across his pectorals. You can tell, based on how many scars he’s bearing, just how dangerous the man above you must be.

The one like a starburst is a bullet scar, you’re pretty sure. The one wrapping around his side is too big to be anything but a knife or a sword – this is a man involved in something dangerous, something shady – and even that isn’t enough to get you to ask him to stop.

Staring down at your newly exposed breasts, Toji can’t resist leaning in; sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, dragging his teeth across the sensitive bud, lapping at it until your back arches and you whimper so prettily that it goes straight through him and straight to his cock. The wet kisses trail back up to your neck, blunt teeth tugging at your skin, sucking quickly stinging bruise marks into the skin so that everybody will know what this cute little virgin was up to last night--

A rough tug to your earlobe makes you moan. A nip to your lower lip makes you practically mewl. And his rough fingertips pushing up your skirt to your waist, letting his fingers dig into your plush thighs so hard that there’s no way you won’t be marked with fingerprints tomorrow – that makes you whine.

“You like bein’ pushed around a little bit, cutie?” The pet name, again, has blood rushing to your face and heat rushing to between your legs. You’re suddenly so very aware of how slick you are, how your underwear is clinging to the folds of your sex. How much of that is his fingers and how much of it is his voice and how much of it is how exposed you are in front of him, you don’t know – but you bite your lip and avert your gaze, and this just seems to spur him on. Both of you know the answer: yes. Yes, you do like being pushed around a little bit--

“These are soaking wet,” he tells you, as the matching lacy underwear to your bra is peeled off of you. He readjusts himself, grabbing your thigh and pressing your knee against your chest so that he can move his hips between your two legs as well as get a proper look at what you’ve been hiding beneath the tiny skirt – he lets out a low whistle, those green eyes greedily drinking you in like you’re a painting hung in an art gallery. “Well, look at you. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

He sees how the compliment makes you squirm at the same time as it makes your cute little hole, exposed thanks to the stretch of your leg, flutter around nothing. He might break you if he doesn’t prepare you properly; you’re so small, and it’s been a real long time since he bedded a virgin--

One of his fingers drags through your slick with no preamble, brushing your fluttering hole, and the noise catches in your throat – halfway between a whimper and a soft sigh, a noise that does not serve to do anything but make him repeat the motion, gathering your glimmering arousal on the same thick digit. He brings it to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you.

“Mm, you should taste yourself,” he says to you, eyes glinting. “You’re like honey, sweetheart--” Toji doesn’t wait for you to say yes or no. His finger pushes past your lips, so you’re forced to taste yourself on his fingertips, brushing over your tongue. His eyes focus very deeply on you, like you’re the only thing in his orbit worth paying attention to. “Why don’t you give my finger a suck, darlin’? You’ll want it as wet as you can get it--”

Not that you’re not plenty wet enough. But there’s something so endearing about the feel of your tongue hesitantly licking at him, the shine of your eyes. If he wasn’t hard enough to cut diamonds, he would have you suck his cock first, if only to see those pretty lips wrapped around his shaft and to hear you choke a little bit, to see your makeup go runny and messy and ruined--

“Atta girl,” he says, roughly, pulling his finger out (the trail of drool sends another of those throbs of heat through him). The finger drags over your slit again, parting the plump lips – and then, he’s pushing his finger inside you, your walls pulsing around him. You’re so fucking tight. He knows you weren’t lying about being a virgin – the gasp that dies in your throat, the hand that tangles in his bedsheets, the little lift of your hips to help him along – all of those are things that are entirely sensation responses, not in the least calculated, and Toji loves that.

The finger pumps in and out of you, helped along by your slick, until he can press another alongside it and scissor them gently, stretching out your channel in preparation for what you’re going to take in a matter of minutes. Your teeth keep digging into your bottom lip, as if you’re afraid to make too much of a noise – he chuckles as he brushes your swollen clit with his thumb.

“C’mon,” he growls, “don’t hold out on me. Lemme hear you--”

Oh, you’re so embarrassed – but you’re also, he can tell, the kind of girl who can’t resist an order. You let your mouth relax, drop open – and next time his thumb rubs firmly across your clit, the noise is caught only by the ceiling above you both. He makes some little noise of praise that you can’t fully discern, because now he’s started pulling forth your pleasure he doesn’t want to stop. Three fingers. His thumb, toying with your clit, rubbing firm circles with it as he feels your channel clench and quiver around his fingers. He rubs at the textured spot on your inner walls and you groan, your other hand gripping his forearm, your brow forming sweat. Your hips are circling, needy, in search of more stimulation.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Toji asks you, his voice like cigarettes and leather. “C’mon. Let me see-- let me feel your pretty cunt clench--”

Something about the dirty words pushes you over the edge and you tumble down a dark hole, fireworks exploding inside of you, stars bursting into being behind your eyelids as pleasure washes over you in great waves. You soak Toji’s fingers, your walls sucking him in deeper and deeper.

Your breath comes in great pants, the aftershocks of your orgasm still gently rippling through you even as Toji pulls his fingers out of you. You look up at the man as he adjusts himself with his other hand, as if in a haze – and as if in a haze, when he roughly pushes those three fingers back into your mouth, you suckle on them with your mind and thoughts all misty. All you can think about is him. That’s what he wanted, anyway – cute little demure virgin, cock drunk even without him fucking you properly – he breaks girls like you on the regular, but you might be one of his favourites.

He tugs down his pants enough to reveal his flushed cock, curving to lay against his stomach, hard and leaking precome from a reddened tip. Your eyes widen (he always loves that moment), as you realise why he took pains to prepare you with his fingers.

“Whaddya think?” He asks you, teasing, wrapping his fist around the shaft. Even his big hands around it do nothing to make it look smaller, and you barely realise that you’re staring until he slaps your thighs with it, streaking his own wetness all over you. “You’ll give a man a complex, sweetheart--”

“I-I don’t have much to compare it to,” you say, desperately, heated and needy even though you literally just came. You want him inside you. You never thought you’d be so easily broken down into wanting to be fucked, but here you are – something primal inside of you is awoken by the size of his cock and the glitter in his eyes and the sculpted muscle, and you want to be desecrated. “Y-you look big--”

He laughs at that. Yeah, you definitely don’t have much to compare it to if that’s your take-away. Still. It’s cute, how you’ve spread your legs a little wider, how you’re not hiding the fact you’re looking at him like he’s some kind of angel who’s finally granted you a taste of the celestial city.

“I feel big too,” he tells you, with a smirk that rattles you to your core. “Wanna find out?”

When you nod, he grins – those big hands take a hold of your thighs, pressing both of your knees to your chest this time. He takes a moment to enjoy you in this position – those wide eyes, the lewd splay of your legs revealing the glimpse of your cunt still tantalisingly shining with the remnants of your orgasm. You squirm under his hungry gaze, exposed – and that does nothing to quell the hunger that seems to be thrumming through Toji, with every clench and wriggle.

“Good,” he tells you, rubbing his cock through the mess you’ve made of yourself, making sure the head nudges your clit and he can see the way you shiver. “You’re bein’ such a good girl for me--”

He catches on your entrance and you let out a keen. With your knees pressed to your chest, you’re unable to get a grip on Toji’s shoulders, and you have to console yourself with fisting the bedsheets beneath you (rumpled even before you’d ended up there).

The position he’s got you in means that you feel every ridge of his cock, every vein, every throb – inch by inch, as he sheaths himself slowly inside you. He can’t help but watch as your jaw goes slack, as your eyes cloud with the feeling of him entering you – as tears bead in the corner of your eyes at the burn and stretch--

Oh, fuck, the tears. He wonders if you feel the way that his cock seems to harden at that, at how pretty you look all glassy-eyed and helpless and trying to take him. He’s maybe two thirds in and almost at the limit of forward motion, but you whimper, letting your head fall back--

“P-please,” you say, “I—I can take it--”

He laughs, low and dangerous. He leans in, brushes his lips over your sweat slicked forehead. His tone is syrupy sweet when he speaks, as he angles his hips just so that he sinks another aching inch into the sweet kiss of your tight cunt.

“Oh, I know you will, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sounding almost like a threat. His eyes flash downwards, to see how tightly you’re clinging to him – how big his cock looks, disappearing into your slick sex. How the glistening ring of your need coats him. Just a bit further – watching himself claim you is almost hypnotic.

He wants to see you on your hands and knees, watch his cock stretch you out that way. He wants to see you gag and choke and drool around his cock, wants to see your small hands wrap around him, wants to have you in every position until you’re so fucked silly you can barely move--

But for now, he hilts inside of you, his balls slapping against your slick skin. His face splits into a smile as his eyes travel back up, to the bulge in your stomach that he knows is from just how big his cock is, to your thighs trembling even with him keeping them prone against you. You’re so cute. The tears have spilled past the rim of your eyelids now, wetting your cheeks – they’re so maddeningly sexy, on your pretty face. He’s not going to last half as long as he wants to, he doesn’t think – not when you’ve been driving him to distraction since the moment he laid eyes on you.

He can barely remember he killed a man less than an hour ago.

That’s old news, unimportant compared to how your walls flutter around him as he pulls out. Unimportant compared to the arch of your back, the rock of your breasts, the great gasps of air.

He’s not a kind man, but he doesn’t go out of his way to be an asshole to his conquests – so he lets you get used to the rolling rhythm of his hips, slowly. He doesn’t piston his hips in and out of you, not at first. He lets the slow drag of his cock on your sensitive inner walls make you shiver, make you gasp and moan and whimper. And only after he’s earned the light hump of your hips against his, searching for the sensation yourself, does he let himself fuck you the way he wants to.

He wants to record the moan-squeak-whimper of surprise as he begins to pump his hips in earnest. It’s a noise he’s heard before, but coming from your pretty mouth it seems all the more potent. His hips jerk into you and out of you, the noise of skin slapping against skin very loud in the bedroom. The slick noises of his cock driving in and out of your tight cunt would be shaming if it didn’t feel so good, if you didn’t get a shock of want every time his body ground against your clit on the inner thrust.

You lose track of time, with the dangerous man you met at the bar bent over you. He mouths greedily at your lips, seeming to treasure every noise you make and swallow it down his throat like a sweet candy – he bites at your neck, at your throat, the grip on your thighs never faltering for a moment. You can do nothing but let yourself be folded in half, and let him fuck you like an animal.

That seems right. He’s rutting into you deep and hungrily, almost feral in his enjoyment of your body. He drops one of your legs suddenly, letting it hit the mattress, readjusting his hips so that one of his hands can dive between you and--

He’s playing with your clit again. The pads of his fingers are rough, and you wonder if he handles a gun like the one that gave him that starburst scar. You wonder how dangerous these fingers are, the ones that were buried inside you and are now coaxing your poor, swollen clit to another orgasm.

“Come on, baby girl,” he growls, pressing harder, making your thighs jump with tension. “Wanna feel you come with my cock buried in that pretty little cunt--”

You whimper, throwing your head to the side and letting a cry out into the pillow like a mewl. Toji would be mad that you’d stifled the cute little noise, if the sight of you submissively showing him your neck (one of your softest parts) hadn’t scratched an itch for dominance inside of him – and if the feel of your body clenching and pulsating around his cock wasn’t currently finally pushing him over the edge, making him judder his hips against you as he shoots rope after rope of his come directly inside of you.

Your shoulders are heaving with the effort of the orgasm that’s still ricocheting through you, your toes curling, your body clenching and soaking Toji’s cock with your orgasm. You don’t even realise he’s come inside of you until he pulls out slightly and you wince at the feel of that same come, his load far too thick and full to not have a bit of it trickling out of your stretched hole. Toji admires the look of it; darkened from his persistent thrusts, your syrupy slick mixing with the thick pearly white of his seed.

“Y-you came inside me,” you say, your voice half-clogged with the tears that are still glistening on your cheeks (a low pulse of heat in his groin. His refractory period has always been short – and with a cute little thing like you in his bed, who can blame him for wanting to fuck you again almost immediately?). “I—I don’t even know your name--”

Oh, shit. He’d quite forgotten. He knows yours from the girl in the bar (that already feels like a lifetime ago). He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, the kind of confusion that seems to say ‘good girls don’t do this, I would never do this, who is this stranger wearing my skin with a man’s come making their thighs sticky?’. It’s part of the process of breaking that Toji loves so much.)

“Sure did, darlin’,” he says, absent-mindedly scooping some of the come that’s oozed out of you and pressing it back inside. He wins a whimper for that, one that’s definitely not ‘stop’. “You’re still so sensitive.”

If you notice he doesn’t give you his name in response to your question, you don’t say anything. As his fingers gently circle your entrance again, as his hand brushes your thigh and you shiver, he sees that you unconsciously spread your legs even further apart for his explorations. Oh, you’re so cute.

One lone finger, gently grazing your clit, makes your hips jerk, your voice break in a way that’s all needy. You look at Toji through those tear-darkened eyes, your lips bitten to puffiness, your lipstick and mascara and eyeliner all messed up on your face from crying and biting your lip and drooling. Adorable. Girls like you always look best like this, their polish scuffed when Toji’s taken them to bed and stripped away all of their defences.

Girls like you, Toji always manages to get to move their hips against his ministrations. He always manages to have them gasp, whimper, break--

You’re not the first one in his bed, and you probably won’t be the last. But as he grins at you and asks;

“Well, sweetheart. I’ll give you a choice. Y’wanna take a shower and I’ll call you a cab or somethin’ and you can head off home? Or,” he drops his voice low, drags his eyes over your prone form, brushes his lips over your stomach. They flutter against the soft skin, his breath a hot wash that makes goose flesh prickle all over you. “Y’wanna spend the night?”

And you bite your lip before nodding, nervously running your hand through his hair, your body near trembling with need--

Well. As he asks that and you answer, he really does think you might be his favourite one ever.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji smut #not sfw #writing #jjk writing #jjk posting #Anonymous

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adobe-outdesign · 2 years

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For the pokemon reviews would you be able to do the two sheep lines? Mareep line and wooloo line? :0

(Note: I'm going to split this ask across two days, as I have a lot to say about both lines and this is an easier way to handle things.)

Mareep is an anagram of ampere and I think that's wonderful, and I think the design's wonderful too.

While conceptually it's not much more than just an electric-type sheep (maybe with some static electricity influence), I love how interesting and different the design is; it's instantly recognizable as a sheep, yet also looks nothing like a sheep, with blue wool-less skin, cream-colored wool, striking black-and-yellow ears, and even a long tail with a glowing orb at the end of it.

I also like the markings because they're very striking, and do a good job of evoking electricity without literally shoving lightning bolts all over it (not that I'm saying that's a bad thing to do, just that it's nice to have variety).

My only complaint--and this is a nitpick--is that the orb probably could've just been blue or yellow instead of making it orange. That's it, though; this is otherwise a pretty perfect sheep.

Flaaffy almost falls into the dreaded middle evo trap of being an in-between and nothing else, but I actually think it avoids it. For one, the pink color differentiates it from both Mareep and Ampharos, and two, the drastic change not only means it needs to transition between the two, but it's also the only member of the line (ignoring the mega) that's bipedal and has wool, giving it its own unique flair by proxy.

The only thing I don't love about Flaaffy are the colors. Mareep is blue with black and yellow stripes, and Ampharos is yellow with black stripes. However, Flaaffy, for some reason, is all pink with no yellow on it. Not only does the yellow help convey the electric typing, but it was what helps connect the first and third stages, so to have the middle stage have no yellow is just weird. I'm not saying it can't be pink; just keep the body pink and make the stripes between the black yellow. I also would've preferred to see Mareep's cream-colored wool here, as the greyish color just looks kind of dirty. Other than that, however, Flaaffy does its job very well.

I know some people don't like how a sheep becomes whatever the hell this is, but honestly, I've always loved Ampharos. It's just personal preference, but having it become something other than just a regular sheep is just inherently more interesting to me, and it still does a good job at visually connecting to the others thanks to the similar body shape and the stripes.

I really like how carefully designed the stripes are especially; lots of Pokemon have stripes, but the way they just line the ears, tail, and neck creates such a nice pattern that really helps draw the eye through the design. The orbs also add a nice pop of additional color as well, and the underbelly keeps it from being too solid and plain below.

The only thing that I don't like here is that the limbs feel very misshapen. Those weird flipper-like arms are way less detailed than the rest of the body, and the single claws on the feet bother me as well. Flaaffy technically has this going on as well, but the arms were much shorter and the nails covering more of the foot there, so it wasn't as noticeable. I would've liked to see the line maybe retain Mareep's cloven hooves for the feet, and at least have proper elbows in their arms. Also, the sideways anime mouth; why isn't it under the head like it is on Flaaffy? However, I will acknowledge that this is personal preference and that most people wouldn't notice or care about this anyway.

Anyway, the point is that overall, Ampharos is great and I love it dearly.

What I don't love dearly is Ampharos' mega. I know some people like it because the ridiculous Finn-style hair is hilarious, and I get that, but I just feel like the design and concept just aren't that strong.

Like first, some parts of the design feel like they were changed just for the sake of changing them. Like I get making the claws black--it balance the colors--but the underbelly has changed Because, and the ears have changed Because. It honestly feels like the artist wasn't sure how to make it look different than regular Ampharos, so they just started changing elements for the sake of changing them. Same thing goes with the random orbs scattered throughout the tail.

And the wool... doesn't really work for me. The thing is that the line gets less wool over time because it loses wool and develops bald spots as it stores more and more electricity. Having it suddenly regain the wool the entire line slowly loses just feel like the concept regresses, rather than continues. If you were going to add wool, why not make it black? Black sheep are a thing, and it would compliment the stripes beautifully instead of off-balancing the design with too much white.

I think it might be going for an Eastern dragon-type thing, due to the fur and orbs, not to mention the new dragon typing it has (due to a pun in its Japanese name), but honestly, it doesn't really read to me that way at all, and I'm really only guessing that that's the concept.

It's a little hard to say what would work better without actually sketching, but here's some spitballing: lean more into the sheep thing in ways other than wool; I could easily see it sporting a lovely pair of striped ram horns, for example. Add more stripes. Its tail functions like a lighthouse (hence the name); maybe make it bigger and lean into that more. Give it black cloven hooves to match the stripes. Give it a few more vaguely dragon-like elements; maybe the wool runs down the back and on the tail tip, if you wanted to invoke an Eastern dragon more.

And if you really wanted to add wool that much, my suggestion: put it around the torso instead. Why? Because after sheering a sheep, you put a sweater on it.

At the end of the day, it's not like this is a terrible design or anything. But like I said, it just feels like it doesn't add anything to the line, and that elements were changed up in ways where they don't look better, they just look Different. Arbitrary is the key word all around here.

(Also, why is it skinnier than the original? I'm not the only one who sees that, right?)

But anyway, as a whole, I do love the original line quite a bit; the designs are striking, the progression from sheep to some kind of vaguely sheepish monster is an interesting direction for the line, and the designs are simple and easy to remember. The only thing I don't love is the mega, and even then, it's not terrible, it just doesn't add much. Overall, these are the electric sheep that dreams are made of.

#mareep #flaaffy #ampharos #pokemon #pokemon reviews #.gif #long post

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quaranmine · 2 years

Text

How to Be a Human Being (Chapter Two)

The Watchers have more powers than just watching. Mumbo learns about one of them.

Masterpost | Chapter One | Chapter Three

Words: 2540

Slightly shorter chapter, sorry! When I wrote this it was with the intention of it being a long oneshot, so when I went back in later I broke chapters up by theme rather than keeping them all the same length. AO3 link in a reblog or on the masterpost.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“So, uh, what are we doing?” Mumbo asked. They were standing in Grian’s Midnight Alley, near one of the alleys at the back. Grian had brought them there to have some space to practice, but also some privacy from the rest of Boatem. Since his base was a cave, it seemed like a good option. And since it was unfinished, it could be easily fixed if Mumbo broke anything. Although, he hoped Mumbo wouldn’t find a way to break anything this time.

“We’re practicing,” Grian replied. “I . . . Watchers have powers. If you have wings, you probably have them too. You need to learn how to use them.”

Mumbo contemplated this. “Okay. What powers do you have?” he asked carefully. “Because, like, I feel like I should probably know that too.”

“Let’s do this one at a time instead,” Grian suggested. “But uh, the one I want to start with is shapeshifting. It’s kind of hard to use extensively so I normally use it as a useful shortcut.”

Mumbo opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. If Grian had to guess, it was about the existence of his shapeshifting powers. Which he had definitely used openly since joining Hermitcraft, but that Mumbo had apparently forgotten about or not noticed since he had thought Grian was human. At first, Grian had felt a little hurt about that, but had decided to take it in good faith–so long as he had the right to complain about this forever, of course.

The fact was, in their little group, having powers wasn’t particularly special. Neither was being non-human. In fact, Grian wasn’t actually sure how many people on the server were actually human, since he learned a long time ago that a lot of people were more than they seemed. Grian wasn’t even the only person on the server with wings, either! The normality of it was comforting to him. Mumbo had lived with the hermits since he was a teenager. Grian just supposed . . . well maybe, paired with being a spoon, it was just so normal to him that he didn’t think about it much.

That comforted him too. He’d spent a long time caring too much.

“So, to start-”

Mumbo raised his hand.

“This isn’t a classroom, Mumbo, we’re the only ones here. Just speak.”

Mumbo put down his hand. “Will I be able to shapeshift into another person? Or–an animal? Could I, say, be a pig or something?”

Grian sighed. “Didn’t you steal my soul because you were tired of being a pig?”

“Well, yes, but it sounds more fun if I have control over it,” Mumbo said sheepishly.

Grian shook his head. “Theoretically, yes, but it takes a lot of energy so you probably wouldn’t be able to do that often or right away. Also, you should probably wait until you’re experienced to try it since you could turn into something else and then be too tired to turn yourself back, which might cause you to panic. More experienced Watchers tend to use extensive shapeshifting, because it’s a really hard power to use. Something something about having to shift atoms and cells and alter reality. Might actually be more accurate to call it low level reality altering instead of shape-shifting, actually. I mostly know how to use it for minor superficial things.”

Mumbo frowned. “No, no, wait, if it’s so hard why did you start me on this? Aren’t you supposed to ease me up to these things?”

“Well, the minor stuff isn’t nearly as hard!” Grian said with a laugh. It was also the type of thing where if Mumbo was able to get this, it would be easier for him to grasp the rest. “It’s really useful. You should have a small effect on things close to your body, too. Like clothes, for example. Most of my clothes are just altered with magic to account for my wings, instead of sewing it.”

“So you cut holes in my suit for no reason?”

“No, I had a reason. First, you don’t know how to do this yet and you needed the holes. Second, it was funny.”

Mumbo crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but Grian could tell he wasn’t actually mad. “Continue,” he said.

“So,” he started, “shapeshifting is just–well, why don’t I start with wings as an example. You have a sphere of influence that essentially just extends to your body, which is like your core self. It’s a “base” so to speak, something you can build off of or take away from. So before you stole my soul, you didn’t have wings. But now that you’re a Watcher, or at least Watcher-adjacent, you do have wings. Those are part of you now, part of that core self or base.

“It takes energy to alter this core, because when you shapeshift you’re basically altering reality a little. You’re creating something physical–creating matter–that wasn’t there before. Or, you’re removing it! All this takes effort.”

If Grian had been thinking more scientifically rather than magically, he might have brought up the Law of Conservation of Mass and specifically how they were breaking it, but that was a little beyond their conversation. He wasn’t that kind of teacher.

Mumbo looked confused. “I’m not sure if I follow,” he said.

“I’ll use hiding your wings as an example,” Grian said. “You have wings, it’s part of your core. You can use your powers to hide them, but it will take energy since you are erasing something that is supposed to exist. You’re changing your body and altering which parts of you move through reality. Vice versa, if there was a shapeshifter who did not have wings, but wanted them, they could give themselves wings but it would take energy to maintain them since they’re bringing in something that didn’t exist before and making it exist physically in the world.”

“I think I get it,” Mumbo said, looking like he only partially grasped it. “So I can hide these if I want?”

“Yep! In fact, that’s kind of the first thing I want you to try. It’s not something you can hold for a very long time though; it will sap your energy.”

Grian had hidden his wings, once. It was immediately after he joined the Hermits. He arrived in their world somewhat unannounced and unexpectedly, thinking it was empty when it wasn’t. That had been a stupid mistake on his part as a Watcher, since he should have been able to see that type of thing ahead of time, but it was a happy one. A life-altering one.

Grian didn’t really know the hermits, and didn’t want to attract bad attention to himself so soon after fleeing the Watchers. So he hid his wings, only taking the time to uncover and stretch them when he was alone at his base. Instead, he learned how to fly with an elytra. People found it funny he’d never used one, but when would he have? On Evo they hadn’t existed, and after he was taken from Evo he had his own wings to fly with, of which elytra were a poor replacement.

It changed when he realized that he was far from the only one on the world who wasn’t human. Seeing other hermits who were clearly non-human, mob hybrids, had powers, and had wings made it more than clear that nobody would care about him. So he just began using his wings again with no fanfare or announcement. To this day Grian was pretty sure that some members of the server had never even noticed the change. If they had, few commented on it.

“It’s a little hard to get,” Grian admitted. “More of a feeling than anything. I think the best way might be to start off with just . . .being aware of every part of your body. After all, you’re making alterations to your ‘core’ being, so you should be aware of every part of that before you start trying to manipulate it. Think of your feet, the tips of your ears, your shoulders, your fingers, and then your wings. Just concentrate on yourself–listen to your heart beat. Like, uh, meditating or something.”

Mumbo hummed in agreement and closed his eyes, clearly in concentration. After a while, he opened an eye and squinted at Grian. “How long do I have to do this?” he asked.

“Depends,” Grian said. “Do you feel any different? Can you feel your wings?”

“Well, I’m aware of my own breathing now,” said Mumbo, “so thanks for that. But yes, I do feel ‘more aware of myself’ or whatever now. I don’t think I could forget the wings if I tried though, at least with how sore that is.”

“Use that, then,” Grian suggested. “Focus on the pain and just . . . imagine it gone, along with your wings.”

They stood there for a moment. There was the sound of wind blowing across the front of the alley, but inside the mountain the air was still. It was pleasantly quiet, with just the sounds of the animals in the Magical Menagerie walking around in the distance. Grian hoped to fill the alley with life and sound by the end of the season, though. It wasn’t meant to be a ghost town, it was meant to feel lived in.

Mumbo had his eyes screwed shut, and Grian watched him bemusedly, careful not to laugh audibly at the sight even though Mumbo looked a little dumb. “Has anything happened yet?” Mumbo asked.

“Um, no.”

“Darn.”

“Try again!” Grian pressed.

“This is harder than I expected,” said Mumbo.

“Well, sorry for being a bad teacher. It’s a hard feeling to describe; I don’t really remember learning how to do it, I just do it instinctively,” Grian answered.

“Speaking of which, do you even know that I have the ability to do this?” Mumbo asked. “Because like maybe this soul business isn’t an all-or-nothing type of deal.”

“Ah,” Grian said. “No . . .”

“So what if I just stand here all day making a fool of myself trying to use a power I don’t even have?”

“Well,” Grian started defensively, “If you really took on Watcher traits when you took my soul, then you should have this power. I don’t know if it’s an all-or-nothing deal or not–shouldn’t the person who stole my soul know that one? But it’s worth a try, just to see. And if you do have the power, and you learn to use it now, you can apply some of the same energy towards other things.”

Mumbo shook his head, but it was a light-hearted gesture. He concentrated, his fingers absentmindedly counting as if he was repeating Grian’s instructions of feet, ears, shoulders, fingers, wings in his head. The wind whistled outside. Grian stared at a piece of hair that had fallen down on Mumbo’s forehead, making a mental note to shove the man into a shower at some point later today. The air had a metallic tang from building materials. A cat meowed in the distance.

And then, a flicker.

Phasing out of reality . . .

. . . then back in.

“You just did it!” Grian shouted gleefully.

Mumbo startled, and the effect was gone. “I did?” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, you did! Now do it again! Whatever you just felt, grab onto that and push it further.” Grian felt a little bad for not explaining it better, but it really was just an intrinsic feeling. There’s no technique to show Mumbo, just an internal feeling. It wasn’t like Grian could reach into Mumbo’s mind and tell him how to feel. That had to come from Mumbo himself.

“Okay,” Mumbo whispered, more to himself than to Grian, “I can do this. I can do it.”

We can do this. We can do it.

Mumbo concentrated again.

Two things hit Grian at once: an almost intoxicating feeling of relief, followed almost immediately by intense wrongness. He staggered, suddenly feeling off balance. Like his head had been clear but had suddenly started spinning again, and in a more pressing way, like his entire weight had shifted on the ground. He felt a little lost even though he was just standing there, and he latched onto Mumbo as a place to focus. Mumbo had succeeded in his task, Grian realized belatedly.

“Dude,” he said wearily, “what just happened?”

At nearly the same time, Mumbo yelled, “I did it! I made the wings disappear! Oh, that feels good. The pain was better today, but I didn’t realize how sore they were until they were gone.”

Grian wasn’t listening, though, distracted by the growing dread he was feeling. There was empty air behind him where there shouldn't be, and he could feel cold air on his back where there should have been feathers. Sure enough, Mumbo’s wings were gone too, but so were his.

Where did they go?!

He shoved down panic, feeling very empty and unbalanced suddenly. The wings normally were a heavy grounding presence on his back, and without them it felt like an anchor being lifted from a boat. Like his feet would float if he let them. He hated it.

“Mumbo,” Grian said slowly, “where are my wings?”

Mumbo paused his mini celebration, turning his attention to Grian. “Your wings? Were you demonstrating? I only messed with mine, dude. And I did it!”

Grian gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh, congrats. I know that was hard. But I didn’t do anything to my wings. I was just standing here.”

“Well, that’s a little freaky,” Mumbo said. “Did . . . did I do that? How could I have done that?”

Grian thought. By all means, Mumbo should not have been able to do that. Grian was his own person separate from Mumbo, and this version of the power only affected your personal space. It’s not like Grian could see in Mumbo’s head, and he sure hoped Mumbo couldn’t see in his–what a ride that would be. Grian was sure he hadn’t done anything to make his wings disappear, since doing so required conscious effort and energy expenditure.

Of course, Grian could fix it. Unlike Mumbo, it was easy and well-practiced for him–just a little thought and his wings were back in reality. It felt better. Grian liked being in control of himself. Especially his own body. It was the lack of control and unexpectedness that had freaked him out.

The more he thought, the more the puzzle pieces began to fit in place. And he didn’t like the picture it was creating.

Mumbo’s intense concentration. Was it more difficult for him than it should’ve been?

The sense of relief–like carrying something heavy and setting it down, or like getting a good night’s sleep after a strenuous hike the day before.

The sense of relief like . . . pain relief?

My back hurt this morning. I gave Mumbo regen in his coffee for his wings.

Was Grian still his own person separate from Mumbo if Mumbo stole his soul? Could Mumbo affect Grian with his powers? If Grian tried, could he affect Mumbo? Grian had wondered if Mumbo had taken his soul and left him without one. Could they in fact be sharing one instead?

He didn’t drink enough coffee this morning to be having the conversation he was about to have.

<< Chapter One | Masterpost | Chapter Three >>

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft fanfic #watcher grian #watcher mumbo #quara fanfic #long post

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frosted-night · 3 years

Text

Jack Frost Designs Review

Yes it’s finally his time. This is going to include his book designs including previous incarnations in said books. There are more movie concept designs than book so, let’s dig in shall we?

This was in fact the first ever Jack Joyce designed while he came up with The Guardians Of Childhood. He even comes with his own backstory! (Which was cut. Sorry Joyce posts walls of text so it’s a girthy read.)

So instead of a young mischievous trickster, we got a much more depressing story of Jack. (Jack by default is sad obviously) but this one... It kind of hits differently and almost reminds me of the story he crafted for Pitch. A dad who tried to defend his family but through tragic events was ripped from them and changed completely. Design wise, he’s a lot more tree than snow. There doesn’t exist a colored version of this so we’ll never know if he sported winter and dull dead leaf colors rather than grassy greens.This Jack has a weird presence to him, I can’t put my finger on it. Rating: 6/10 He’s really neat! Just a little too Autumn feeling rather than a blend of both Autumn and Winter.

Nightlight feels like the baby evolution if Jack was a pokemon and that's what I’m gonna stick with. Below is a more recent version of him colored.

In all honesty that one is easier on the eyes proportion wise because sometimes Joyce has ‘interesting’ anatomy choices but we aint going into that today. It’s interesting how his hair somehow looks shorter and longer than Jack’s at the same time. Could be because the longer strands float seamlessly but star boy hair physics what can ya do. It’s a little hard to tell what is his skin and what is his armor, so that is a casuality in making a character only have one or two colors in their color scheme. I love other artist’s depictions of Nightlight but the canon one feels a little weak color wise. Rating: 5/10 Sorry, get some better LEDs and then come back.

Here we have a book Jack but I can’t entirely recall if this was used in the books or not. I digress. This design looks like him still wearing very Nightlight-esque armor/clothing and slowly growing into his new persona as Jack Frost. The intricacies are hard to make out but we’ll work with it. This one is very interesting to me because he very much looks like an older teen close to young adult. His hair looks very fluffy too. Not many complaints about this one but not much praise either.

Rating: 6/10 Not great but doesn’t stand out that much.

Remember when I said Joyce had ‘interesting’ anatomy decisions? Jack looks like he has half a head here and it bothers me GREATLY. This is the adult Jack design he went with. Supposedly he likes the opera and he sure looks it. This! Exists!! Kind of wish it didn’t. The outfit is nice but it just doesn’t fit Jack as a whole. This just screams to me that it’s someone else with a similar-ish hairstyle.

Rating: 3/10 Guess he’d be the...Phantom Of The Opera. (I’ll go home and so should he.)

And finally the final Jack. This is the one that almost exactly resembles the Jack we got in the movies(Probably because it was made after the movie but w/e) but just add a cape on him. I can’t really tell if hes got a hoodie and a cape, or just a cloak+hood on top of a sweatshirt. It isn’t too important because my thoughts on this one are obvious. Rating: 10/10 Edna Mode would have a field day with you boy.

MOVIE DESIGN TIME

Joyce claims this is a design he drafted when Leonardo DiCaprio was considered to voice Jack and I can kind of see that with how his face is drawn here. This Jack looks a lot more like a warrior and less of that trickster look. I can’t say I’m a fan of the weird antenna his hood has but his sword is really cool looking.

Rating: 4/10 Nice bow and sword but it can’t save your fashion choices.

This looks like a lanky 11-13 year old who would put rocks or slugs in my shoes and relish in my disgust. He has the exact look of a snot nose kid and I’m unsure how to feel about it.

His various hairstyles drafted here sort of make him softer looking or just more of a snot nose, no in between. Maybe even an Anime Protagonist.

The top right one almost looks like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon if you squint. It’ll be a little hard to rate them all as one individual but why not.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate them but they aren’t my cup of tea.

AH- IS THAT A FUCKIN GREMLIN?

Oh wait no it isn’t he looks like a 10 year old. Whatever don’t feed him after midnight. The staff’s design of not being shaped like a G is an interesting tidbit but the whole design looks like he’s really young or like a troll etc. This Jack looks like he thinks girls have cooties uses outdated slang.

Rating: 4/10 This is me being generous.

It honestly looks like he hiked his pants up all the way to his chest. A late teen with horrid fashion choices once again. Not many other thoughts here.

Rating: 2/10 Get a sweater on or something.

This is one is very interesting looking to me. His clothes looked a lot more leather based and very human-like. The tatters, tears and frays all make him look like he was a victim of an accident that never changed his clothes. It makes me wonder if this Jack had the same death as the final movie Jack or something else entirely. Either way, this one looks like hes a mid to late teen which really adds to my intrigue.

This was another image that greatly resembled the design so I included it here. It almost looks like his skin is blue here which is pretty neat to me at least. He’s also got leaf motifs here, which from the first Jack design Joyce made, we can see a pattern here.

Rating: 8 /10 I was originally weirded out by his head but now its not so bad.

This Jack is definitely dressed more like a nature boy rather than him having human influenced fashion and it’s an appealing touch. The tiny leaf sprouting from his staff is also kind of cute since the designers seemed to want to put leafs somewhere on his designs. His hairstyle is also very cute but it reminds me of Sasuke Uchiha in a sense. (Not a setback for me at least)

Rating: 7/10 13 year old Jack is going thru a phase.

I thought this Jack didn’t show up again in story boards but I was wrong!

They look a little different from each other but just similar enough to pair together, so bare with me. The first one obviously has looser pants, slightly longer sleeves and got his leaf motif going. This second Jack is a VERY green. It gives the impression that this Jack made his clothes out of plants and natural materials. Again I’m not wholly sure if greens fit his color scheme but they sure went for it for a while. I can’t say I’m a fan of it because it heavily reminds me of Peter Pan.

However a very similar looking Jack could be found in this storyboard. It doesn’t look as green as the other storyboards made it out to be and looks more like dead grass. Which is a pretty nice touch.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate it but it just doesn’t vibe yknow.

Speaking of a vibe...hoo this certainly has one. This Jack isn’t old but certainly doesn’t look very young, maybe in the 20-30 range, thats just me. He has facial features that remind me of Pitch but resembles the Jack Frost of Santa Clause 3

That being said, I wondered if him looking similar to Pitch was in the storyline of them being brothers.(Which was a scrapped thing, who knew.) He’s a bit more menacing in this design but certainly seems like he relishes in his work.

Rating: 4/10 I’d make it a lower score but I gotta give it props

NOW THIS JACK IS KINDA INTERESTING. This one looks like he’s 16 and going through a grunge phase. He’s gonna play Nirvana loudly and not turn it down even if you tell him too. His staff itself has mini icicles hanging off of it and leafs look stuck to his shirt. Did you glue or staple those on Jack? His hair also looks much longer than his other designs and I kind of dig it( Shut up I’m bias.) I’m not wholly sure why else this design has stuck with me but it just has something about it that I just love. I wish there was a full body drawing of it.

(He also kinda has the same hair as the Jack Frost in Runescape but I wont go on about that hoo hoo)

Rating: 9/10 *Bad Boy by Cascada plays in the distance*

This one definitely feels like middleschooler trying to be in a band. His sticks just resemble drumsticks to me what can I say. I’m a big fan of his shoes and his color scheme screams a hibernating tree in winter. His hair also looks like it’s covered in frost rather than it being wholly white, which is very neat!! He looks like he wants to fight but has slight hesitance. Overall a very balanced Jack.

Rating: 8/10 He’s ready for band practice

Not many thoughts here, I just found these tiny Jack designs cute. His hoodie being a jacket instead just adds to the charm of this one.

No talk to him he angy.

Rating: 6/10 fun sized boi

Now this Jack resembles the one earlier that dressed entirely in leather brown colors, however he clearly is different than that one. I’m gonna say it, he looks like a zombie or undead in this design and its pretty fucking gnarly. I don’t know whats going on with his hair but I’m gonna assume it’s just the wind making it look like that. He just has the vibe that he was once human but was turned into something else entirely. It isnt in uncanny territory but borders that. This version of Jack meeting Pitch and the others would have been *very* interesting. Rating: 7/10 Eat a twinkie Jack you’ll feel better.

The final design! I can’t complain much about this one. The way his staff subtly has a G shape and a hexagon(his signature shape) is a wonderful touch. Additionally, the way the frost is gathered mostly where his hand is such an intricate detail. His signature hoodie is iconic at this point so I can’t bad mouth that either.(I can’t anyway because there's no complaints from me here.) Although, I never understood the leather straps that his pants had or their functions. I couldn’t find any colonial outfits that resembled Jack’s pants so its a total mystery to me at least.

And I can’t go on about this design until I mention the snowflake pattern in his eyes

Pure beauty. It’s at a hue of blue that almost looks impossible to have, combined with the electric blue color of the snowflake in his eyes. The amount of detail in this movie amazes me to this day. Rating: One Great Blizzard <3/10

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 years

Note

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

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lovelybucky1 · 3 years

Text

Strawberry Kisses- Chapter 3

warnings: none, 18+ minors dni

series masterlist

We stop in front of a small cafe and I smile up at Spencer. The sign was written in fancy cursive with a cute coffee cup. He steps in front of me and opens the red door for me. He shuts the door behind us and offers to take my jacket and hangs it next to his. I followed him to a table for two in the back of the cafe that was placed in front of a large window that had a good view of the garden outside.

I wasn’t sure what I expected from Spencer, but this definitely wasn’t it.

A waitress comes to our table and hands us menus before returning to her other customers. I look over the menu, trying to decide what I want. I could spend an hour looking through their entire menu, but it seems that Spencer read the entire thing before I even reached the extensive dessert selection.

Sensing my confusion, Spencer says, “I read fast.”

Just as I was about to reply, the waitress returned with two glasses of water.

“What looks good to you?”, she asks.

Maybe I was imagining it, but I could have sworn I saw Spencer’s eyes on me when she said that. I look up at her and tell her my order, hoping she can’t tell how Spencer is affecting me.

“And for you?”, she asks Spencer.

“I’ll have the grilled chicken sandwich with no tomatoes and a lemonade, thank you”, he smiled.

That smile.

The waitress collected our menus and left to the kitchen, leaving Spencer and I alone again. I fiddle with my napkin, shredding it absentmindedly in my lap.

Spencer reaches across the table and takes my forearms in his hands.

“Why are you suddenly so nervous? We walked all the way here and you were fine, but now you’re making a mess out of your napkin”, he smiles.

“I-I don’t know”, I shrug. I notice how close together our faces are and I jump back. I free my arms from his grip and instead of being offended like I expected, he just smiled back at me with stars in his eyes.

The waitress returns with our food and as we eat, the awkward tension between us turns into a comfortable energy.

“Did you know that the chicken was domesticated in 2000 B.C. in Southwest Asia?”, he asks, looking down at his sandwich. I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, and birds are descendants from dinosaurs, in fact, chickens and ostriches are the closest related to the T-Rex out of every living animal.”

I lean my chin against my hand and sip my drink.

“Tell me something else.”

“Um… Oh! Did you know that one-third of adults still sleep with some kind of comfort object?”

“I didn’t but I believe that. I sleep with a squishy pillow every night”, I grin.

“What about you?” Spencer shrugs in response.

“Sometimes when I’m home I like to sleep with this teddy bear I got at a carnival a while ago. It helps when the nightmares get bad, I guess.

“Does it have a name?”

“Not really. I’ve never talked about it before so I never felt the need to give it a name” I gasped with mock-offence.

“Just because you’re ashamed of your friend doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have a name”

“I am not ashamed!”, he laughs. “I’m just saying, you don’t see many grown men walking around bragging about their stuffed animals.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s cute that you sleep with a teddy bear.”

There it is, that gorgeous blush.

“I don’t think anyone has ever called me cute before.” I take his wrists in my hands like he did to me earlier.

“Then all of your friends must be blind because you’re adorable.” If it was possible, his face flushed redder.

“D-do you want dessert?”, he asks. I nod.

“Surprise me, Doc. I trust you won’t poison me.”

He walks up to the counter and orders. He leans against the glass case as he waits and he makes silly faces at me. We end up playing a couple rounds of rock-paper-scissors by the time he receives the desserts.

He returns to the table and places my plate down in front of me. It’s a pink, fluffy mousse topped with fresh berries.

“I hope you like strawberry”, he says as he sits.

“I do, thank you.” He grins around a forkful of chocolate cake.

“I figured. You seem like the strawberry type.” I give him a confused look. “You’re sweet. You have an innocence that made me think you prefer fresh, light things. Your phone’s wallpaper is the beach, so I assume you like Summer and the lip-gloss that you’ve been applying is strawberry flavored.”

“Pretty spot on. Is this what you profilers like to do for fun; to get inside people’s heads?”, I tease.

“It’s just basic data collection, I’m not inside of you.” Spencer’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as he realized what he said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that!”, he said hurriedly. I stop him with a hand to his forearm.

“I’m flattered, but that’s more of a third date kind of thing.”

“Fifty-six percent of women admit to having sex on the first date, and thirty-six percent say that it lead to a long term relationship”, Spencer said. I give him a slight teasing smirk.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to be another number in the statistics.”

“I-”, he stuttered.

“I’m just messing with you, Doc. Let’s get going, my lunch break is almost over.” I reach to take my wallet from my bag but before I could get it out, Spencer is already up at the counter paying the bill. I walk quickly over to him.

“Let me get half”, I say.

“I asked you to lunch. This one’s on me”, he says, smiling down at me. I roll my eyes playfully.

“Fine, but I get the next one.”

“Fair’s fair”, he says. The person behind the counter hands him the receipt which he folds up and tucks into his pocket. He retrieves our coats and he holds mine up so I can put it on easier. Once we’re dressed, he opens the door for me and I step out.

“You’re such a gentleman, Dr. Reid”, I say with a smile. He returns the smile but doesn’t respond.

We walk in comfortable silence on the way back to headquarters, the journey seeming shorter than before. We reach the lobby and I have to practically drag Spencer up the stairs by his hand.

We get to my floor and I let go of his hand reluctantly, finding comfort in the warm hold he had on me.

“I had a really nice time today”, I say.

“I did too��, he says softly.

“If I were to schedule a follow-up, would you be available?”, I ask hesitantly.

“Of course”, he replies with seriousness.

“You better start on those stairs. Without me to encourage you, you may never reach the top”, I laugh.

Spencer groans and walks out the door. Before he disappears behind the wall, he gives me a small wave and I can’t help but feel warmth in my chest.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x f!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fanfic

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static-fanatic-1 · 4 years

Note

I just went through you r blong and it's?? So amazing??? Like omg I wass literally screaming when I read all that glorious stuff, you're doing god's work here love💕 but I would like to know what Kikyo, Illumi, Milluki, Kurapika, Pakunoda, Chrollo and Silva + Shigaraki, Overhaul, Monoma, Chronostasis, Setsuno, Tamaki, Endeavor, Shinsou and Aizawa do for winter and/or Christmas/other religious holidays activities with their darling? Bc I'm ready to sell my vital organs for it ;_;

Thanks you <3

Also, Christmas wit da bois is an amazing idea. (I’ll be doing normal Winter stuff and some religious holidays.)

Kikyo/Illumi/Milluki/Silva:

Since they are a family, I will combine them (and to make this large post a bit shorter and easier haha).

Anyway, they celebrate Christmas more for the gifts and to spoil their kids. You better expect a large, family gathering for the entire two weeks of Christmas and New Years. It doesn’t really matter, you will be forced to celebrate Christmas with them. I mean you are part of the family.

Think of it as a resort holiday, you are treated like a queen/king and anything you want will go. Well, other than freedom of course. Still, you receive many gifts that are beyond your price tag, and the gifts you give them are more decorative to be honest. You don’t have as much money to spend as them, so you decided to make all of your gifts because you hoped the thought would be enough. They might not look the best, but each Zoldyck will treasure it to the end of their days.

They will try to incorporate any traditions as long as they are family oriented, they aren’t monsters. And even if you have other holidays you celebrate, you will still celebrate Christmas with them. With that being said, they will be kind enough to celebrate your own holidays, it will be a smaller scaled thing though.

Kurapika:

He finds it to be a bonding moment, and he doesn’t get enough of those for obvious reasons. He will go above and beyond to please you, simply to get back on your good side a bit.

Cocoa, apple cider, blankets, decorations, traditions, ANYTHING is on. He wants you to relax and feel at home around him. Despite his extremely controlling attitude, he wants you to love him. Sadly he prioritizes your absolute safety over your mental health.

But it’s sweet for the most part, he actually seems to act normal, he doesn’t seem as if he is going to snap and try to force you into anything. But yes, he might try to get things to be hot and heavy, you being relaxed is too perfect of an oppertunity to waste. He still has a clan to rebuild.

Pakunoda:

I wrote chrollo’s before Paku’s, so it’s kinda the same. She will be more active in putting things together and getting into the festivities. She will get really close, using the excuse that she’s cold just to cuddle with you.

Christmas sex? Yeah, probably. She’ll take care of everything, you could sit back and watch her do everything. But it’s more fun together right?

Everyone is invited, so expect the rest of the Troupe and their darlings!

Chrollo:

He doesn’t mind, he’s pretty accommodating too! He’s honestly the most okay with anything. I would think the people of Meteor City look forward to Christmas, there isn’t a lot but people who really care for one another take the time to chill with each other.

With you around, they have a really big excuse to go all out! Chrollo will sit back and relax, having you and the rest of the Troupe decorate and get presents. He will help of course if you ask, but he will mostly be on the side lines.

Anything else is a-okay too! He doesn’t care as long as you are happy, and the Troupe can join in the festivities.

Shigiraki:

Christmas is something he does know! But he knows nothing of any other holiday to be honest. All for One gave him a few gifts in his life time, not much but enough for Shigiraki to develope the concept of Christmas. I mean when he was a kid he loved Christmas with his family. It was one of the happiest times back then.

So he genuinely had a love hate relationship with the holiday. You will ah e to take initiative on this one. Giving a gift, starting decorations, making hot coco or something. Anything to get the ball rolling and he would begrudgingly comply.

Secretly, he is excited to join the holiday festivities with you. Specifically with you, anyone else and they would be dust. He is okay with learning new holiday traditions too, like why do you guys light candles for a holiday? Well oh tell him with a smile and help him light one on fire. He almost burns the whole hideout down. You’ll have to watch him.

Endeavor:

He celebrates Christmas, but he’s more of a grinch. He celebrates it with his kids and wife, just because it’s something families do. Though throughout his life he never found it more than a obligation.

When you come along, he’s on the path of becoming a better person, so he will definantly try harder. One Christmas with all the fun stuff with you, and another one for his family. He kinda lets you take the lead, of course if you really want something you will have to do some sexual trades. Can’t let you get too comfortable right?

Moreover, if you are on good terms with his immediate family, you could probably add more cheer to the holiday. Also if you celebrate another holiday then don’t worry, he’ll accommodate to be nicer.

Overhaul:

Who cares about winter, it’s cold and you are more likely to get sick because of it. Your immune system will be more likely to be compromised so you better expect him to helicopter a bit more.

Warm teas, heavy blankets, vitamins, and supplaments are to be expected. Nothing sugary either, maybe a bit of medical honey in your tea but not much.

Christmas isn’t something he celebrates, but he will make a slight exception if you are good. If you act like a suck up, he’ll be nice and maybe get you Christmas gift. Maybe even a small Christmas tree for moral. I wouldn’t expect too much though.

Chronostasis:

He like winter, he doesn’t know why exactly, but he does. I can easily see him getting into the activities of December. Like the ballets and Christmas lights and other festive things that make you leave your house. Headcannon that he might be a decent ice skater too. He simply enjoys the activities more than the actual holidays.

He won’t mind helping decorate or getting gifts or any other holiday traditions. Actually, if they are fun traditions without much competitive fire, he’ll probably want to do them more.

Although I don’t see him liking the warm ness of cuddling and all that, I can see him enjoying the slight chill in the air. Supportive of any holiday you celebrate, might even try to make more traditions too.

Monoma:

He likes Christmas and the holidays, it’s the perfect time to get the best gifts for his little darling. Oddly enough he loves getting small gifts for you, it makes him feel prideful knowing you like what he got you, so he loves Christmas is general.

As for winter, he likes it! It’s an excuse to get you under the covers and warm you up. That can be taken both ways if ya’ know what I’m saying.

I think he would prefer warm drinks like tea and apple cider over hot chocolate, but hell totally make some for you. Any decorations are also game, just expect some teasing for the childish stuffed animal you keep on the fireplace mantle.

Setstuno:

He is kinda clueless in the sense he just doesn’t know where to start. Like he knows about the basics of holiday traditions, but he doesn’t know if you do those traditions. He’ll be pretty laid back when you get excited about it though. This clingy man will simply sit back and watch the entire time.

Winter isn’t his favorite, but he doesn’t mind being able to hold you close so you won’t be cold. He is very possessive considering what happened to his last lover. He will be perfectly fine with helping with easy things, but when it comes to the more taxing things, he’ll let you take the reins.

He’ll try to buy you a present he thinks you’ll like, but he won’t get too fancy. After all he really just wants to hold you close and soak in your warmth.

Tamaki:

Nervous boy feels most comfortable in winter, at least in his home where he has you to cuddle, bake, and hold. He loves the warmth found in a home, and he will encourage any baking you want to do. It just leaves him with a warm feeling inside when he can bake cookies and brownies with you by his side.

Although he’s all hands on deck when the holidays come along, he’s still nervous about it. He’ll ask questions and make sure everything works how it’s supposed to because he doesn’t want to mess something up for you. Might accidentally go a bit overboard with gifts or other traditional activities.

He just wants to please you though, a real sweetheart when it comes down to it.

Shinsou:

I think Shinsou likes winter because it means spring is on its way. I can see him being a spring loving boy because of all the kittens and flowers blooming. Winter is good though, might be his second favorite season. He loves the blankets and the hot cocoa and the baked goods and the holiday cheer. Especially the gift giving, he likes seeing you happy when he gives you a gift.

He probably won’t be too enthusiastic about any holiday stuff, but he will sure support it and help with anything you need. Need a Christiana’s tree because you can’t have a Christmas without it? You better bet he’ll get it right away.

He loves watching you get excited about the holidays, everything in the house just seems a bit more cheerful because of you. He will wrap you in blankets and jackets and hold you closely in his arms. You also better bet anything you do he will be there to help you. He might not be the most into the holidays, but he surely loves getting ready for the holidays with you.

Aizawa:

Winter is not his favorite season, but I’d say it’s probably second place. He doesn’t do too much, as he simply doesn’t want to put in that much effort in something so minuscule. But, he defiantly encourages his Darling if they want to decorate or bake or something wintery.

Christmas also isn’t really a big thing for him, as he doesn’t usually buy presents for other people. Of course, his Darling is another story. Unlike most people, he buys a few presents for you because you are his special kitten.

He will also help decorate or bake small things if you want to. Hot chocolate is a must, he has a special, bitter hot chocolate just for himself that he loves. You have your sweet beverage and he has his bitter one. Just don’t forget the marshmallows.

Warm cuddles is a blessing to him. When it’s cold he grabs blankets and wraps you up like a baby is a swadle just to hold you close to him. As for other holidays, he will respect them and whatever stuff come with them. Like Hanukkah and the candles for each night. Just don’t expect anything too crazy, he just wants a comfortable holiday evening with you.

Happy Holidays sweethearts!!! I hope you have an amazing whatever you celebrate and if you celebrate nothing, than have a wonderful day!

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

If you want some individual character asks how about Caleb with a Druid s/o who will wild shape into a cat if he seems sad to try and make him feel better.

Here you go! Enjoy 😘.

Not only out of components to return Frumpkin to his preferred cat form but also having loaned the now owl familiar to Beauregard as part of their agreement Caleb feels lonely, lacking the comfort of the orange fur ball to keep him company. There’s always been something about having the only creature aware of everything he had gone through and still look at him the same as they had always done that gives him hope there might yet be redemption and salvation for him and it’s something he really could use right now. All that’s left for him is to retreat to his room and wallow in sorrow until he falls asleep, gets the components to turn Frumpkin back, this feeling passes or a distraction big enough to have him focus on something else comes along.

You’d noticed Caleb silently retreat when the others were still around. Caleb may be good at covering up anything beyond a surface level of emotion but you know him well enough he’s not in the greatest shape when he just wanders off in the middle of the day. Things had been harsh lately and he’d been struggling. You’d been doing your best to be there for him but Caleb struggles even more with accepting help from others when he’s like this and prefers seclusion until he sets himself straight. It’s not healthy, you’ve told him but it keeps him going so you’ve come to terms with it offering him little gestures of kindness whenever you could if only to ease his pain a little bit.

When Caleb disappeared into the background making sure the others were too caught up in whatever they were doing you sat around, staring in the direction he left in half paying attention to the people around you and your mind debating wether or not you should do something, anything. After Caleb hadn’t returned in an hour you excused yourself and went after him searching for wherever he went. Your first guess had to be right. Not many places he could or would go.

There you are standing in front of the wooden door fist raised hesitantly to knock. Maybe this was a bad idea? Maybe you should just leave him to himself. If Caleb wants to be alone then you should respect that… but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t check in on him… Because what if you could do something? It doesn’t have to be much or fix everything because you know that’s not the goal but the tiniest difference between Caleb wallowing in his own pain and having something or someone to bring him some comfort; that would be enough.

So you knock. There’s a silence and you don’t expect a reply of any kind. You try again, a little bit harder this time. Still you wait patiently. You’re about to turn and leave when the door opens and Caleb peaks out. He looks tired, exhausted even but musters a half smile upon seeing you.

“What can I do for you?” Caleb tries his best to not falter in his usual habits but he knows there’s no hiding from you. You wouldn’t be here if he had succeeded in the first place. No use in keeping the facade going.

“I came to see if you’re alright.” Again there’s the pained half smile. You pity him so much. You know Caleb does not want your pity but still you do. You can’t help yourself but feel sorry for everything he’s been put through and the scars left from the past. No one should have to suffer through such terrible things.

“I’m fine.”

“No, Caleb. You’re not fine.”

“I will be fine. I just need… time.” Caleb sighs holding onto the door. You clasp your hands together and give him the sincerest look you can muster.

“I know you will be fine but I also know you won’t ask for help unless it’s a last resort so I’ll ask you. Do you need my help? Is there anything I could do for you?” Caleb bites his lip, steps aside and allows you to enter. You do and the door is closed behind you. The room is as simple as ever, the sheets slightly crinkled and pillow sunken, giving away he’d been sitting in bed staring into the abyss for who knows how long.

Caleb sits on the bed hands clasped in his lap and nods to the space next to him. You take the hint and sit down. Hesitantly you reach out your hand towards his but stop and are about to pull away hadn’t Caleb grasped your hand to enclose it between both of his own. The grip isn’t too tight or lacking any strength but feels like him holding on to a lifeline no less.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” You ask as the wizard keeps his eyes on your hand between his. There’s something about the gesture to him that brings him comfort and keeps him tethered to this plane. You’re like an island in the middle of the ocean and he’s been swimming from sharks out to get him but not even you can stand up against a flood. Caleb shakes his head.

“Is there something you usually do to make things easier?” You know of some of the coping mechanisms of Caleb but he wouldn’t have retreated if they worked. Caleb’s smarter than you are and knows himself best so while you may come up with some ideas, you’ll let him try first.

“Yes but not now. Not unless you happen to have about ten gold worth of incense on you.” Caleb laughs sarcastically.

“If you need Frumpkin back I can go retrieve him from Beau if you don’t feel comfortable doing so yourself. Don’t worry.” He appreciates your willingness to take the pressure off any social interactions he doesn’t have the energy for but sadly that’s not the reason.

“Thank you but Frumpkin as he is now won’t help. I need my cat. Not my cat shaped like an owl and it’ll still be a while before we get somewhere I can get enough incense to turn him back.”Caleb looks at you and can see the cogs in your head turning. A realisation has hit you but he cannot place it so instead he awaits for you to elaborate.

“You need a cat? Would any cat do or just Frumpkin? Maybe a cat that looks like Frumpkin?” You try your best to get the clearest visual of the orange ball of fur you can to make sure you could get this right.

“I think so but I’m not sure?” Caleb tries to figure out what you’re hinting at.

“Would this help?” You close your eyes and focus on the image in your mind. Next you open your eyes the world is different. You’re staring up at Caleb with a significant height difference. Your senses pick up on things you did not before and you’re hit with an overwhelming scent of a mixture of spell components, smoke and something more earthy. It’s not uncomfortable and actually pleasant.

Caleb is at loss for words. He knows about your ability to turn into animals but never considered the fact you’d be able to turn into a cat. While he certainly sees some dissimilarities between you and Frumpkin they are minor, he would not have expected you to know exactly where Frumpkin has that little spot shaped like a bean or where one of his whiskers is just a little shorter than the other above it.

Reaching out as if to pet you Caleb hesitates. He knows it’s not Frumpkin or another cat. He’s fully aware this is still you and you’re still fully aware of your surroundings, retain your memory and everything you knew as a person. He can see it in your eyes; they are unmistakably you. When you nudge up into his hand allowing him to stroke his fingers over your head Caleb reads this as you giving him permission. The head scratches turn over to your cheek and just under your chin and you can’t help but feel yourself beginning to purr just like Frumpkin does when he receives the same attention. It’s actually very comfortable and you get why the fey cat likes it so much.

An arm guides you to Caleb’s side and the fingers brushing through your orange fur continue. You don’t know wether or not it’s the cat senses kicking in or your own but you can feel the anxiety beginning to lessen from Caleb. That’s a good sign.

Slowly, little by little your positions change. One moment you’re half leaning against Caleb’s thigh, the next you’re curled up in his lap. Eventually you find yourselves laying back on the bed, you rolled up comfortably on Caleb’s stomach, the fingers brushing through your fur continuing until they become slower and slower and eventually cease, Caleb’s breathing growing heavier and slower. He’s asleep. You look at him careful not to twist too much but he looks peaceful and much less bothered by whatever haunts him so. You don’t want to wake him up so you’ll stay. You still got plenty of time left on this wild shape so maybe you’ll close your eyes for a bit too and you too fall asleep.

When you wake up you feel whatever’s under you stir so you open your eyes and make eye contact with Caleb who looks mortified for some reason. You wonder why. Had you done something in cat form? Wait, you don’t feel as small as you did anymore…

When Caleb woke up he found you in your normal form supporting your head on your crossed arms laying on his stomach fast asleep, his fingers intwined in your hair and the other hand somewhere between your shoulder blades. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. You hadn’t agreed to this and what if the reason you still being here was because his grip might have been too tight? Nevermind the awkwardness of this all. He doesn’t do well with most physical touch but just like you in cat form, this feels comfortable and he’s ashamed to admit he could very well get used to this, though he doesn’t have the heart to ask you himself.

You sit up supporting yourself on your hands on either side of Caleb. You saw his response to the position the two of you woke up and you know what he’s like when it comes to physical touch and after the emotionally intimate moment you shared with him finding comfort in you, you hope you hadn’t ruined it by falling asleep not keeping track on when your wild shape would end. You blurt out apologies as you sit up and begin removing yourself from on top of Caleb. Caleb stops you as you’re on your knees and rises himself to a sitting position.

“No, I should apologise. Thank you for your kindness. I should have been more considerate. I did not mean to keep you or put you in a, no pun intended, tight spot.” Caleb grabs one of your hands lightly as if afraid you’d slip away and he’d be alone again. Your initial fear you might have overstepped yourself falls away.

“Do… you want me to stay?” You’re almost afraid to ask but you have to, if not for your own sake then for his. Caleb nods sheepishly but when you wrap your arms around his waist pulling yourself close to him once more. His hands find your hair and begin to loosely brush through carefully getting rid of any tangle that might have been there.

“You know I could turn back into a cat once more if you’d prefer.” You mutter into Caleb’s stomach and you can feel the slight tension and release of his abdomen signalling a silent laugh.

“While I very much appreciate the offer and will hope it still stands in the future, for now I am very much content with this.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader

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iconfusionwastaken · 3 years

Text

Empires SMP - LDShadowLady & Ocean related enchantments

I'm watching LD's pov of Minecraft Empires & I wanna talk about her luck & the headcannons/aus it opens.

Spoilers for up to episode 5 of Lizzie's POV under the cut

She easily & unintentionally found a Stronghold also connected to a geode, & the 1st portal she made & entered through was right next to a nether fortress (that, yes, was already looted but my point will still stand).

When there were 2 creepers that blew up, she lost none of her stuff (unless creeper explosions don't blow up your items anymore/it's a like mod or server plugin in the server).

An enchantment for the fishing rod is Luck of the Sea, which increases luck while fishing. This suits Lizzie, ruler of the ocean empire, very well.

So like, since there's the enchantment Lure which makes fishing shorter, what if fishes & tressures & all kinds of trinkets always became easier to find suddenly whenever she seeked something out?

Aqua affinity increases underwater mining speed, imagine LD not taking quite as long to mine while in water as if everything she using, including her own fist, have this enchantment.

Depth strider increases speed while underwater, imagine that even when armorless, Lizzie is always faster underwater.

Loyalty: Anything & anyone of Lizzie are pulled towards when she needs them, this paired w/ her natural Lure, is how Sir Strawberry found a way back to her after temporarily loosing him.

Impaling: Lizzie can always hurt all that come from the ocean harder than anyone else.

Riptide: Lizzie can almost fly, swiftly glide for a while while in contact w/ water.

Channeling: While it's raining, Lizzie can make the air around those she strikes crackle w/ electricity as if she were using a taser, sometimes even make a lightning bolt appear.

Lizzie & Ocean related enchantments.

On another note, I saw this video about Minecraft lore (or, well, quasi-lore) & the Ocean section gives me an idea about Sir Strawberry.

It's necromancy time, cw for a dead animal, aka, Sir Strawberry.

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Say after dying while making the guardian farm, upon Lizzie's return Sir Strawberry was dead, all she could find was his corpse.

In denial, Lizzie swiftly brings Sir Strawberry back to her domain, within the ocean. Sir Strawberry would come back, he was her loyal knight!

Maybe Lizzie has to check all the soulsand around where she found his corpse & brign said block of soulsand to her knight's corpse.

So what if Lizzie has to craft a new body for her subject that isn't quite the same? Her knight will come back if it's the last thing she does!

Sir Strawberry returns, w/ a soul & body intact. All who are of the Ocean are loyal to Lizzie.

Or we can go a more angstier route, Sir Strawberry not only dies painfully in the Nether, but Sir Strawberry cannot come back, the Ocean merely preserves, it cannot bring back gone life.

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As you can discover in the notes, I continue w/ my propaganda on episode 6, expect me to do so in future episodes as well.

#Empire SMP #Empires SMP #LDShadowLady #Empire SMP AU #Empires SMP AU #Empires SMP Headcanons #EmpireSMP #Cw dead animal #Empiressmp

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leos-regression-cove · 2 years

Text

The New Sibling

Chapter 12. Baah-baahs

Synopsis: Loki and Mobius play sheep with mummy Sylvie while waiting for Thor to get home from work.

Word count: 2,796

Stand Alone?: yes

Warnings: diapers/messing, laxative bottles,

Notes: a slightly more controversial chapter, but it's still cute anyway. @little-kitten-mittens-art did some adorable art when I told him about the Loki sheep concept so it's linked there.

Read it on AO3!

“Are we playing a game tonight?” Sylvie asked as she watched Loki scamper between the nursery and the living room, dumping stuffed animals and toys into the playpen where Mobius was sitting during their pre-dinner playtime.

She was just peeking her head out from the kitchen while turning hamburger leftovers into a scramble with some eggs, green onions, and tomatoes. Most of the family’s diet was pescatarian (if not vegetarian), in order to keep little tummies happy and to make messy nappies easier to clean up (but occasionally Thor couldn’t help it and Loki would beg when they went to the store for something with meat in it, and then this would happen and Loki would realize he didn’t actually care for meat all that much, and Sylvie would know from the start that she didn’t really want a full steak, so she’d make something else for herself and then they’d end up like this where she’d be incorporating leftover meats into her cooking. If only she could just convince Thor to get the fake meat, that would make things so much easier).

“Yeah mum-mum play farm!” Loki yelled back. He grabbed a board book of animals out of the playpen and brought it over to Sylvie to show her what “farm” meant.

“Oh that sounds fun, are you the farmer?”

“No! Das Tor!” he grinned.

“Thor’s still at work,” she laughed, watching her food. “So who are you?”

“Um…” Loki paused. He turned the book back towards himself and thought about it. Alarm presented itself on his face.

By the time Sylvie turned around to look at him, Loki was nearly working himself up to tears.

“You don’t need to decide now, if you don’t want to. You can switch animals,” she reminded him.

“Um yeah. Orsey-heep,” he decided.

“Wow, a horsey-sheep. Is that like a llama?”

“No. Yuck,” he said like it was an insult to everything he stood for.

“What’s Mobius being?”

“Uh… No know.”

“Maybe you should ask him, then, huh?”

“Yeah.” And with that, Loki ran back to his playpen and hopped over the barriers clumsily.

When Thor had first bought it, the fact that Loki could step over the sides was a big point of contention. “This was the tallest one they had!” Thor had argued.

“Really? You couldn’t have just ordered one online?”

“I… I guess I could’ve. I don’t think it’ll really be that big of a deal though.”

“You say that, but the second he has motivation to leave his pen, he’s going to.”

This conversation was replayed in their heads a lot. Especially when Loki would be set down and subsequently decide he missed his caregiver or had something very important to tell them and he'd immediately get out and repeatedly knock on the bathroom door for them, or raid the kitchen for sweets and snacks.

It was, however, very helpful with Mobius. Being shorter than Loki, he didn’t have the extra six inches of leg to sweep over the gate. And as the little was hardly walking, he didn’t even make much of an attempt to get out, usually just having Loki go get a carer for him or whining until he was heard.

“What animal?” Loki asked, as he set the book down at Mobius’ feet again.

Mobius pointed at his toy sheep and then at the real one on the page.

Loki scowled at this. “No.” He wanted to say: I’m the sheep. You can’t be the sheep, choose something else.

Poor little Loki, who had kept to himself so much during daycare, was now starting to realize that there were some downsides to trying to include the other little in games when he couldn’t communicate with him.

Mobius was experiencing a similar frustration. Instead of just pointing at a different animal, he decided the best course of action would be to toss himself backwards onto the pile of stuffed animals and whine and kick, not the happy kicks, angry kicks.

“I sure hope you two are playing nice in there!” Sylvie called while turning the burner off and setting a lid over dinner. Then, she came out with her hands on her hips to find Loki trying his best to name the animals and show them to Mobius who was absolutely not having it.

She sat down with them in the playpen and tried to figure out the problem. “Loki, you can be the pony like you said you wanted to be and Mobius can be the sheep.”

“No. M’ sheep,” he said decidedly.

“Okay, then why don’t we play shepard? You two and lavender lamb can be my flock.”

“Fock,” Loki tried to repeat.

Sylvie pretended it did not sound like a swear. “That’s a group of sheep. But let’s have some dinner now. Then we can worry about our game.”

Loki nodded in agreement and let himself think about what he’d wear after being locked into his highchair.

Mobius had the perfect outfit, which fit very nicely with his white, off-white, silver, orange, and brown wardrobe. It was a soft, wooly, playsuit; kind of like his pajamas but without feet and with a hood which included little ears. Sylvie made sure to also give him silver knitted, thumbless mittens to complete the look. Loki didn’t have anything quite like that, nothing except a forest green wool sweater and a pair of light yellow pajama pants with goats on them, which were of course chosen because they matched Loki’s (second) favorite stuffed animal. After Sylvie pulled them on, the little dug through his costumes and eventually found some homemade construction paper ears that looked very much like floppy sheep ears. He put the headband on and gave Sylvie the triumphant arms-up-in-the-air gesture of “all done!”

“That looks wonderful. Okay, let’s go see what big brother’s up to, hm?” She had heard Thor open the door earlier, and take the rest of the food that was still on the stove.

“No,” Loki said. “Mummy dess-up.”

Sylvie sighed, “Loki, your clothes are too big for me.”

“Mum-mum Bo Peep,” Loki cooed as he set one of his bonnets on her head.

“Fine. Fine, you win. I’ve got the perfect dress for this,” she sighed, leading her boys to her room.

Mobius’ bassinet was still in there despite the fact that he hadn’t used it in a few days.

She took off her day clothes and slipped on a long, floral dress before tying an apron around her waist. “There, how’s that? Mummy Bo-Peep and her little lambies.”

Mobius grinned at her while chewing on his pacifier and Loki clapped.

“Back to the playpen now. Sound good little sheep?”

“Bahbah!” Loki babbled.

“Is that your sheep noise?” She asked.

“Yeah!” he beamed.

She tried to convince her boys to stand up and walk with her, but the two decided to instead insist on crawling behind.

Thor finally met them in the front of the kitchen, where he was eating his somewhat cold food. He had to set down his bowl when he saw Sylvie to laugh.

“Look at you!” he cooed at the littles following her.

Loki couldn’t help but squeal when his big brother picked him up. “Tor farma n’ mummy chepad. Cuz ‘heep take care,” he tried to explain.

“Mummy and I are the farmers?”

“Mhm!”

“Well I think that it’s time for the lambs to get their bottles then, huh?”

Loki looked away and anxiously frowned like he didn’t get an evening bottle every single day. Evening bottles were usually not the same as regular ones, and they weren’t bedtime bottles either, and now with Mobius in the house, the two caregivers were beginning to realize that they would have to stagger them so the two could have their separated bath times.

Regardless of the tot’s reaction, Thor got to work making Loki a bottle while Mobius crawled around the playpen under Sylvie’s close supervision. Maybe because of his small headspace, it seemed that the tot did not know how to play “sheep” correctly. Instead he just played like he normally would. Taking tummy time to fidget with a cloth hand puppet of a pig, trying to get it over his bulky mittens.

Although he knew what awaited him, Loki pretended to be excited about his bottle. Pretending to look forward to it so much, that he didn’t even wait for Thor to come pick him up, instead leaning against the fence and trying to signal his big brother that he was impatient by opening up his mouth.

“Are you going to drink your bottle like a sheep, too?” Thor asked with a grin.

Mobius smiled at this thought and grabbed his lavender lamb.

“Just like Mobius’ lamb?”

That didn’t deter Loki, he was basking in the attention and loved being praised for being such a silly guy.

Thor pet his chin and caressed his cheek, giving him some playful little pinches to test if he’d snap out of it and ask to be picked up. But Loki didn’t, rubbing against him and still pretending, so Thor laughed and positioned the bottle downward as he pet Loki’s hair, letting him drink and waggle his pretend tail. “Such a good sheep,” he cooed at the toddler.

Mobius, sensing Loki’s happy and contented nature, crawled out of Sylvie’s lap and sat down next to Loki, obviously hoping to also get his bottle the same way.

Sylvie tugged him back. “Be patient, baby. Loki’s getting his bottle. You’ll get yours soon.”

Loki hated the awful feeling like his organs were tensing up. It was always like this and the taste of honey never covered up… whatever sort of laxative they put in there. His position only made it worse. He whined the complaints to Thor.

“Do you want up?”

“M-m.” Loki denied as he kept his mouth firmly around the nipple of the bottle, even as tears came to his eyes.

This was the worst part of every day. Thor and Sylvie both knew it.

Once Loki was done, Thor quickly picked him up.

“No! No! Play!” Loki cried, despite clenching his stomach.

Thor stopped, set the little one down and crossed his arms, watching as Loki figured out there was no good solution.

“Shh, it’s okay little Loki lamb,” Sylvie cooed as he tried to crawl to her for comfort. “We can keep playing after your bath. If you get to Thor quick enough we can even salvage your outfit so mummy doesn’t need to wash it again right now,” she hinted to Thor.

“Yes, right!” Thor agreed, playing along. “If we shear the little sheep before we wash him… he’ll… get his wool back…?” The metaphor fell apart the second it left his lips, but Loki understood, and let Thor pick him up and yank at least his bottoms down before he finally broke, making a mess in his nappy. His shirt was lifted off and Thor took him back to the bathroom to get him changed and washed up.

“Jus like Tor!” Loki told his big brother while waddling next to him, with his pants around his ankles a little red and teary, but generally proud of himself as Thor opened up the bathroom door.

“What do you mean just like me?” Thor asked, confused by this remark.

“Tor pants off when potty.”

“That’s right, huh? Very observant, you.”

Loki did not try to repeat the words, too busy starting to cry like always, like every evening.

“If you don’t want to do this, we can always start potty training,” Thor sighed as he rolled up the messy nappy and put it in the pail.

“No! No, no no!” Loki screamed as he was wiped up.

But Loki was grinning and happy the time he was returned to mummy Sylvie. Well, by the time he returned himself to mummy Sylvie, climbing out of his playpen the second he got the chance to meet her in the kitchen.

“There’s my little one!” she cooed at him. “C’mere. Do you want to help me with Mobius’ bottle?”

“No. I sheep, see?” He showed off his ear headband once more. “No baba”

“Hm… Okay, Mr. Sheep, what noise do you make?” she asked skeptically.

“Bahbahbah,” he babbled while lazily wrapping his arms around her shoulders to show how terribly boring just standing in the kitchen with her was.

“Alright, you’ve proven yourself to me, now go get in your pen.”

Loki grinned before scampering back to his playpen and climbing back in, satisfied that she acknowledged his presence.

“Ready for round two?” Sylvie asked as Thor returned to the main room.

“I have to get Mobius, too? I thought we were splitting the messy nappy duties.”

“We are. I get them tomorrow when you’re at work late, remember?”

Thor sighed and shook out his limbs. “Alright. Fine. I’m ready.” He stretched and cracked his knuckles.

“Where’s my second little baby lamb?” Sylvie asked as if she couldn’t see Mobius trying to bury himself under the pile of toys, hiding from his mummy and Thor.

“There’s my cheeky boy,” she cooed as he hopped out and “surprised” her.

He squealed and giggled as she pulled him into her lap and tucked the bottle beneath her chin as she tossed on some easy cartoons for Loki to gawk up at while she worked with the other baby, trying to get him to take his laxative bottle.

“I know, it’s all weird and yucky compared to your regular one, isn’t it?” she asked as Mobius fussed and moved his mouth away.

“Shh!” Loki stood up, gripping the edge of the playpen and leaning towards the tv.

“Loki, there is no sound, you’re okay. Back down from the tv,” Sylvie frustratedly told him as she stopped cradling Mobius and ended up having to readjust him: Sitting him up in her lap, one hand acting like a harness strap between his legs, gripping her criss-crossed ankle in front of her to keep him in place, and the other holding the bottle in his mouth. Her chin was set on his shoulder, acting as a third arm, to keep his shoulders in place and to stop him from twisting away.

It was not a comfortable position for either of them and Mobius made that very clear by continuing to whine and pull away, almost working himself up loud enough to scream; Getting dangerously close to the volume of his “baby quirk” meltdowns. Finally, he reached for a rattle toy and shook it violently, slamming the wooden bead toy against the carpet as a form of protest while Sylvie uncomfortably forced the rubber cap against his mouth and nose.

“Sylvie, Sylvie! I think that’s probably good!” Thor said, finally intervening and scooping the baby out of her arms. Thor would have normally focused on getting Mobius in an easy pose so changing him wouldn’t be so bad, but instead, for the moment, Thor simply focused on calming the distressed little one, bouncing him and rocking him back and forth.

Mobius’ whimpers fluctuated with the sudden bounces while Thor spoke.

“That bottle’s all gross. You know that the honey is supposed to cover it up. Very clever of you noticing. But it’s all over now. All done. Can you make a messy for me? It makes all our lives much easier if you go now and don’t try to wait.”

Mobius propped himself up a little bit and let Thor distract him by planting a smattering of kisses on his rosey cheeks.

“Wow, look at you, didn’t even need that full bottle.”

Mobius was much easier to get cleaned up than Loki. His romper may have needed a wash, and perhaps he hadn’t been so conveniently positioned, but he definitely was calmer and quieter, just, as always, sensitive to touch and a little bit fidgety.

“Mumma. Mumma go bah, bah heep,” Loki giggled, unphased, only just ripping his attention away as the credits rolled on his Shaun the Sheep cartoon enough to squeak out the simple sentence, if you could even call it that.

“Oh wow, very nice to know.”

She didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to communicate, so Loki rolled down next to her, belly up.

“Bi’ woo go fuff! N’ peh happy.”

She roughly pet his belly and pat his legs and torso down to make him howl with laughter, as she raspberried his little tummy.

He screamed, and squealed and laughed till his face was pink and there were tears in his eyes, but the good ones this time.

“You were so grown-up about your baba, you know that?” she ventured to ask as he was calming down, trying to catch his breath again.

“Yeah. Good ‘heep,” he agreed.

“Very good sheep.”

“Mhm. Goo’ fir mumma.”

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