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ninjagirlstar5 · 2 days

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So I made a Danganronpa & AVA/AVM Crossover

But less about the killing games and more like, "How would the Tragedy affect the OuterNet?"

I'ma just copy-paste my Discord ramblings, but yeah, it's gonna get long so buckle up.

At first the OuterNet barely bat an eye at the Tragedy. Some Stick figures even claim that it's just a "Creators' problem," not a "Stick problem." Surprisingly, though, FreedomStick/Freedom Guy (the guy that had an ad that said stop stick slavery!), which I will be calling Rebel from now on, advocated for Sticks to do their part and protect Creators from Viruses and such that come from the OuterNet due to it's connection to the DeepNet (a.k.a the dark web) as they predicted the Despairs' ideals from real life will trickle down and affect them just as much as it'll affect the Real World. While there's not much Sticks can do to their creators from inside the PCs (physically, anyways), there are still ways they can harm them through the internet (gestures to Second forcefully commenting negative things on Facebook through Alan's account, viruses like The Dark Lord's, etc.) So Rebel is trying to get their fellow Sticks to be aware of the Tragedy happening in the Real World and trying to get some protection ideas off the ground, not only for the Creators, but for them, too.

(Btw, this is my design for Rebel, teehee.)

Of course, most of the stick community was not…pleased with Rebel's prediction and some even felt betrayed because it was thanks to them that they weren't treated like slaves from their Creators anymore, freeing them from their misery and/or inspiring them to break away. So having an influential figure be idolized for their, uh, "Anti-Creator" ideals (which is actually just a very extreme version of their beliefs cause in reality, they just want sticks to be treated like people, not hurt the Creators) say something of the "opposite" gets them ignored or even ousted from lots of groups. And so, the OuterNet continued on like normal.

There's just one problem: the Tragedy, and thus the Despairs, quickly makes itself apparent on the Internet.

Due to the OuterNet's nature, it is inherently tied to the Internet, which is where the Creators create most if not all of the websites where a lot of stickfigures come from. Not only that, the OuterNet gets most of it's information and ideas from the Internet, allowing them to stay in touch with the Real World while also inspiring them in ways that can help better their lives (it's why RocketCorp is able to grow as big and as quickly under a few years as it did: Vic saw an opportunity and snatched it while he still could). So, over time, the OuterNet started becoming more and more aware of the Despairs, their nihilistic propaganda campaigns posted all over in ads and news sites, and the harm that has been done all over the world.

Until, one day, the first sight of a Despair stick appeared in the OuterNet and proceeded to wreck havoc. And thanks to the Tragedy ongoing in the Real World, the denizens of the DeepNet becomes more bold in their crimes to the point that they do it in broad daylight. Guess where the Despair stick got it's equipment from.

The first Despair incident gets resolved pretty quickly but not without casualties and the community is shocked that this even happened.

Cue Rebel staring into the camera and having their "I told you so" moment.

Rebel doesn't spend time being petty, though. Instead, they take the opportunity to remind the community of their connection to the Creators and how they are affected by the Real World just as much as them. This incident only proved that their prediction is coming true and that the community is going to need all the help they can get to combat against the upcoming Tragedy. With the results of ignoring the problem shoved right in their faces, most of the community relents and helps out Rebel.

Of course, since this is the Tragedy, some of the ideals of Despairs start affecting the community through their campaigns and many become apathetic to the disasters happening outside and inside the OuterNet. But Rebel refuses to back down and let Despairs hurt any more people, becoming a Symbol of Hope as they fight against the Tragedy and help as many people as they can to protect not only their fellow Stick figures, but also the Creators that are suffering in the Real World. Even if all they can do is keep the DeepNet's crimes isolated in the OuterNet and preventing it from spreading to PCs.

Speaking of Despair sticks, there are three kinds of them:

Created Despair Sticks: These sticks are ones that are created through the Despair ads campaigns. While the Despairs have never intended to make these stick figures due to sentient Sticks being so rare in the Real World that nobody really knows about them unless they're a Creator, sometimes these Sticks will come across these ads and articles on Despairs and their code will be influenced by their "ideals" or even pop out from these Internet campaigns. As a result, it is a part of their nature to create Despair and Destruction to those around them and their surroundings. There are usually no way to reason with these sticks as it is a part of their code and cannot be removed without being killed.

Regular Sticks turning to Despair: Stick figures that have lived relatively normal lives before the Tragedy struck. Most sticks that turn to Despair are ones that have unresolved trauma from their past Creators that absorbing the Despairs' "ideals" encouraged them to finally go back and strike at their Creators, regardless of who gets hurt, or those that already had a nihilistic and pessimistic viewpoint that becoming a Despair is much more preferable than holding the Hope that things will get better. Because to them, the world has already turned to hell. Why not join them instead? It's very hard to reason with these sticks, but some are able to turn away before it's too late. Or at the very least, turn themselves in.

Despair-Infected Sticks: I've debated on whether or not to keep this one but I think it just adds another layer as to why these sticks are different than humans even though they're still people: because they have a code that can be removed or added to depending on if the person is able to access it. This is why Viruses are so dangerous to sticks as they can infect and even destroy their coding from the inside out, which is why Dark had to put in a bunch of safety measures for him to be able to use his Virus with his bracelets and such. Someone from the DeepNet decided it'd be a good idea to create a Despair Virus and sell it to other Despairs simply for the profit. Whether this bit them in the ass or not, we'll never know as they disappeared off the face of the Earth after it was completed. Despite it's creator gone, it was very easy to replicate the Despair Virus and have it infect many unsuspecting Sticks in a populated area. Once infected, they become exactly like every other Despair Stick, however, some victims are able to fight back long enough to beg for help and mercy from those around them. Currently, there is no cure and RocketCorp has been trying to study this virus to find it or at least a means to create back-ups of those infected (even though Vic is secretly selling things to the Despairs so he can fund RocketCorp and continue his goal in finding Alan, oops).

Created Despair Sticks are literally just born like this. Even if they develop into wanting something different, they can't go against their code cause they're born with it and it's literally them so they can't break it unless they break themselves.

Despair-Infected Sticks are literally infected by a virus and are forced to hurt others around them as their coding is forcefully changed and even broken down to make room for the virus. And some are even aware enough to know this and try to fight it. Basically, both are pretty damn bad, while the second type of Despair stick is more a choice than anything else.

And as my mutual pointed out, "infected sticks causes despair for both the infected and the victims surrounding them." It's a cycle, man. Once it starts, it's hard to stop. 💔

As for the Desktop Sticks...why don't we start with how Second and the Color Gang are holding up!

To be honest, they probably didn't notice what the fuck has been going on in the outside world. They've mostly been doing their own thing and having fun. Sure, Alan seems a little…stressed but he's sometimes like that, you know?

And then, Alan kinda just stops showing up.

They didn't think much about it at first. They just kept themselves preoccupied and Second took the time to hang out with the CG some more as he assumed that maybe Alan took a day off to hang out with his family. But then the days start going by and they all look at each other and go, "Hey. Alan hasn't come back yet. Is he okay?" So they decided to open up the Internet to see what's up.

And they get blasted with all the news on the Tragedy: crime has risen, riots are everywhere, terrorists called the Despairs are running around spouting nihilistic bullshit as they destroy buildings and spread their influence. They're all just shocked at what's happening and are frankly, terrified! And then Yellow points out that Alan must have been dealing with this outside in the Real World and and they all go, "OH SHIT, Alan's in danger!"

But, problem! They can't do shit about this.

Yes, they've destroyed Alan's PC numerous times, mostly by accident, mostly from collateral. But they do not have the influence or the bodies to stop the Tragedy in the Real World. All they can do is just…watch and wait for Alan to return. Well, Second and Yellow have been scouting the internet trying to see if they can find traces of Alan but everyone else is kinda just…bundles of anxiety

And then a couple of burglars break in and try to steal Alan's PC. And when Second tries to notify them to stop, they just laugh and ask each other if anyone would buy these sentient sticks off of them! That's when Green took the initiative and said that they're leaving and they all book it into the Minecraft portal so they can try and contact Mango and Purple. They're kinda hoping the OuterNet is faring better than the Real World. (They are all clueless.)

Second and the Gang actually aren't the only Desktop Sticks that have fled to the OuterNet. Some created Stick figures have been losing their Creators one way or another and they've all been immigrating to the OuterNet for safety and security as they have no one to help them or take care of them anymore. Assuming they even know of the existence of the OuterNet. If they don't…they're just kinda stuck on their desktops, alone. They're lucky if they have another Stick figure with them but if they don't, they just sit there and…wait. Like a sad little dog waiting for their owners to return. And that's the "best" case scenario in a situation where a Stick knows nothing of the OuterNet and lost a Creator that genuinely cared for them.

Desktop Sticks are usually ones that have Creators (some simply just come into existence by pure accident through websites and the like, though) and usually are unaware of the OuterNet. Since the OuterNet is kind of a secret safe space for Sticks, DeskTop Sticks aren't really searched for unless they send an SOS through a website. Rebel, of course, tends to travel between many PCs, but it's difficult for them to gain access to these PCs due to firewalls and stuff and often risk getting themselves deleted thanks to those. So it's usually safer to have these Sticks come to OuterNet on their own or through a secret code amongst many different websites that Rebel put out through their own ads. A Desktop Stick and their Creator's relationship is a case by case basis as some Creators treat their sticks like people (or at worse, pets that just so happen to live in their PCs) while others tend to abuse them or try to delete them for "taking up space," which depends on what kind of powers the Stick has (Chosen was kept because he had a use in being an ad-blocker, but was done so against his will). If the Desktop Stick's relationship with a Creator is positive, they usually stick around and stay in the PC, even when they know of the OuterNet's existence. If it's negative/abusive, they tend to break away and live in the OuterNet on their own, which is where Rebel established many communities for those who are new to the OuterNet and needed a place to stay. Every now and then, there are Desktop Sticks that move into the OuterNet due to escaping a horrible Creator, leaving an abandoned PC where the Creator just never took/transfer the Sticks to their new PC, or simply because their Creator passed away and they needed to start a new life. There was a steady flow of Sticks that come in and out of the OuterNet and the immigration was quite manageable.

But then the Tragedy strikes and suddenly, crowds of Sticks have been entering the OuterNet and it becomes very difficult to find the space for all these Sticks as the OuterNet isn't actually that big. Especially in comparison to the Real World. To make matters worse, the Despair Sticks see this as an opportunity to hurt even more Sticks. Many of whom are quite distraught at losing their Creators as, you know, not all of them were horrible people to their little Stick buddies! So hey, they may as well kick them while they're down! So Rebel is kinda just…struggling to find the time and space for the Desktop Sticks to live in and protecting them and they just look at this crowd, sweat, and go, "Wow…that's a lot of Sticks, haha…."

They honestly have no idea where to put all these Sticks, ngl.

And that's actually where Mango and Purple come in.

So, Mango and Purple have been watching this shit all go down. Hell, they actually witnessed the first Despair Stick incident and survived from that, which signaled to them that they can't just bury their heads from this situation. However, Mango prioritized he and Purple's safety first and foremost and the two hid away in Minecraft for a bit, but kept in contact with the OuterNet through phones and such. But as time went on, Purple was getting more and more antsy and Mango can tell just by looking at him. But he wasn't sure what he could do to help…until word spread that there has been a lack of space in the OuterNet due to the amount of DeskTop Sticks escaping there for a chance of safety. And it was then that he realized that, hey, Minecraft has been pretty much untouched from Despairs. And why would it be? It's literally just a game. For all everyone knows, both in the Real World and the OuterNet (except for some people in the DeepNet), it's a game that has existed before the Tragedy and can't really be used to spread any sort of propaganda. It's not as if there couldn't be any servers owned by Despairs, but the likelihood of them spending time on a game outside of their free time is pretty low. It wasn't a foolproof place to live in due to mobs and other environmental hazards, not to mention that Mango and Purple need to use a Nether portal to enter the game and the Nether is! Not friendly, to say the least! But it was the only other option they could use, as long as they're able to establish communities in different Minecraft worlds.

So Mango tells Purple of his plan to let Rebel know about his idea to use Minecraft to establish shelters for their fellow Stick people and Purple jumps at the chance to help. They managed to establish contact with Rebel and tell them of their plan secretly as they didn't want word to spread to the DeepNet or the Despairs on where they're putting the Sticks. Rebel is, surprisingly, all for this idea and helps them iron out the details. The first thing Purple does is create an easier path to some of the Nether portals they've already established in the past and create shelters for the sticks, Rebel and their team escorts a group of Sticks to the portal(s), and Mango helps teach the Sticks on how the game works, keep themselves safe, and how to create their resources like food, wood, take care of animals, etc., etc. Due to the danger that the worlds of Minecraft can pose, the three of them often take turns or team up to escort these groups to the shelters and protect them. This plan has worked for a few years and the Stick communities have grown enough to be able to protect themselves, but it seems that the Despairs and the DeepNet have started to catch on to their plan. They've started to follow the refugees to the portals, forcing Rebel, Mango and Purple to block off or even destroy some of the Nether portals they've established to prevent them from following them into the game. Thankfully, they haven't slipped through their defenses…yet.

This plan isn't foolproof but they're trying their best. At least the Despairs don't have the means to destroy the game! (Don't ask Mango about the time he tried to do exactly that. We don't talk about it.)

But yeah, Mango and Purple get to work with Rebel and Purple is kinda awestruck with hanging out with a historical, even legendary, figure and helping them out. Mango also finds it fascinating to work with Rebel but he quickly finds that for all their admirable traits, they can be quite flawed, too. For starters, they are…quite reckless! And tend to run off and act first, think later. Which contrasts with Mango, who tends to be pretty meticulous in his planning, since he had a step-by-step plan he came up with with Purple in AVM Season 3 (with a few, ahem, "missing" details at the time). And it turns out, while Rebel has a bunch of good ideas on paper, they often need help from their group to bring these ideas to life, cause otherwise they can get quite...aimless and may overlook things that they didn't notice. But the fact that they're willing to listen to other people's advice shows their good qualities in leadership as they're able to listen and examine the flaws of their ideas while still holding their ideals up. These two just tend to butt heads a lot due to their contrasting personalities as Mango is constantly trying to keep Rebel from running into trouble headfirst while Rebel is like, "No, we must act now!!"

Basically like this:

Mango: "Okay, first, we have step A, which will lead into Step B and Purple, you can take care of step C-"

Purple: "Uh, Da- I mean, Mango?"

Mango: "Yes, Purple?"

Purple: "Rebel already left."

Mango:

Rebel, running off to fight the Despair in the vicinity to protect a Stick figure:

Basically, Rebel has the passion and skills, but can also be impatient to a fault and can cause a bigger problem by running headlong into it.

Mango has the genius to examine the scenario and plot around the problem, but may not always be able to act quick enough to save lives.

Both mindsets has it's pros but it can also have their cons, and in a situation like the Tragedy, neither side is in the wrong. But it's a tough situation all around that either one can make things messy. But they're trying their best to work with what they got.

And now, to see how one of the scrunkly cats ever is doing during the Tragedy...*Holds up The Chosen One*

Since this takes place after AVA Season 2 where Dark is MIA by the end of it and obviously after AVM Season 3 since Mango and Purple have already gone through their arcs, Chosen is wandering around trying to undo his wrongs as an ex-terrorist. But he's still wanted by the public for his past crimes, which, yeah, that's bad. Makes sense. But unlike most of the public, Chosen believed in Rebel's prediction as he sees them as an inspiration and has been keeping an eye out on any sort of Despairs. So when the first incident happened, he was immediately on it and was the reason why the problem had been taken care of as quickly as it had happened. Unfortunately, though, time quickly proves that as powerful as Chosen is, he cannot be in two places at once (something Rebel can unfortunately relate to). Despair incidents happen one after another, sometimes at the same time, and he struggled to do his part in protecting other people. To make matters worse, those who actually recognized Chosen often freak out and run away or even beg for mercy, still seeing him as a terrorist. Some even blamed him for some of the Despair incidents he helped resolved, and he ends up being labeled as a Despair due to his past, even though he's been trying to do good for others. Which, ow.

And, to make matters worse, Vic is still on his ass by sending the Mercs after him. Just because the Tragedy is happening doesn't mean that he won't give up his goal on getting his revenge on Alan, not realizing that he had gone missing for awhile now. Vic is more or less a neutral party in the Tragedy, with RocketCorp willingly combating against the Despairs but also buying things from them and/or selling things to them if it means advancing his own personal goals. The Mercs help against the Despair incidents but are also waiting for Chosen to appear so they can capture him…

Fun fact: Mango and Purple witnessed Chosen saving them in the first Despair incident before he left without a word as a little setup for future development. ChoKing in my funky little crossover? It's more likely than you think!

At some point, Second convinces Chosen to meet with Rebel to try and establish that hey, he's NOT a Despair, he's actually trying to help everyone so please stop slandering him like this even though he knows his past is shady as fuck. Chosen agrees, albeit hesitantly as he knows that this is a very dangerous thing to do and he's meeting his idol so he's nervous for another reason, too. Surprisingly, Rebel agrees and even planned to go alone but Mango was insistent that no, they shouldn't go alone, even if he and Purple did personally witness him helping others, as they don't know if he succumbed to Despair or not. So they agreed to bring Mango along with them (Purple was told to keep an eye on the shelters with the rest of CG, much to his disappointment).

Ngl, I think their meeting starts off like this:

Second: "Hey, this is Chosen! He's kinda like my brother."

Rebel, blunt: "Your brother is a terrorist?"

Chosen: *Obtains -1000 psychic damage*

Second:

Rebel:

Mango: "…I think you broke him."

Rebel: "Oh, whoops."

Eventually, though, Chosen becomes honest with his experience and says that he looks up to Rebel as it was thanks to their ad that led to their website that he was able to free himself from the abuse Alan treated him with, and reassures them that he's stopped being a terrorist and has been trying to help and prevent more Despair incidents. Rebel, recognizing that he's genuine in his turnaround, does a 180 in their suspicion and is like, "OH, I love redemptions!" and immediately welcomes him into the group. Naturally, no one really likes this or believes in Chosen outside of Second, the Color Gang, and Rebel, while Mango and Purple are quite skeptical of him. Although Purple is more willing to give him a chance…and maybe wants to see his powers in action. Without the danger, this time. But yeah, Rebel recklessly brings him into the group, which causes a ripple effect of anxiety as most people in the Stick community doesn't agree that he's turned over a new leaf. He did, after all, hurt MANY people in the past and whose to say this isn't a ploy in the making? (It isn't but Chosen can only prove himself through action, not words.) This is pretty much how Mango and Chosen officially meet in this crossover.

Obviously, Mango eventually starts to see that Chosen is doing everything in his power to help others and is kinda just…fumbling as he tries to grasp how Minecraft works, which leads to Mango trying to help and teach him. Ngl, what makes this version of their dynamic hilarious is that this grown-ass middle-age man knows far more about Minecraft than a young adult person. Bonus points that the only reason Mango knows so much about Minecraft is because he was trying to destroy Minecraft in the past.

Speaking of Second, chronologically speaking, Second and the Color Gang end up crossing paths with Mango while he's escorting a group of sticks and after everyone gets over their shock of "wow, more people like us!", they ask if Mango is bringing some friends into Minecraft. Mango then realizes that, oh God, these kids do not know what's happening in the OuterNet, oh no, I have to tell them-

Second and the Color Gang are very distraught that essentially no where is safe but after meeting with Rebel, they suggest that they help out as it's made pretty clear that they're experts in Minecraft and that they can help teach and protect the shelters on how to work in Minecraft. Mango is concerned as he doesn't want to put these kids to work, but they all immediately jump at the chance cause they don't want to sit around and wait any more. Not only because doing nothing would make them anxious, but also cause they want to help as much as they can, too. (It also helps distract them from Alan going missing, although they still put in the effort to search for any signs for him.) Mango relents as he knows these kids are just going to do whatever they want, so he might as well support them and give them guidance instead of shutting them down. And Rebel makes a pretty good point that even though they were just minding their own business, the Tragedy still affected them by taking their Creator away from them, even if he's just missing. Whether they like it or not, they're forced to face the Tragedy so they might as well willingly get involved by doing the right thing.

And I think that Second and co. are very good at their respective jobs at helping others and giving them hope. Because, even though they're kids, they're always trying to find ways to keep things together and do the right thing. They may argue and fight sometimes, but in the end, they always come around a common goal and are able to stay positive despite everything. This happens in canon as in many scenarios, they're always having fun while on their adventures, even when things go wrong. As kids, they shouldn't have to go through all of this. But it's also because they're kids that they're able to see the light, the hope, in things and work hard to do their part in helping others in need. And I think AVM Season 4 can be a great way to tie into this crossover:

People are bored and scared out of their wits? How about Yellow sets up a fun-little cart game for people to watch the Color Gang go ham at!

People are starting to get tired of the same food? Blue and co. go on a journey to start a recipe book and establish a food network across the Minecraft world.

People are losing hope? Green holds a concert - which, uh, ends a lot more chaotically than anyone expected, but the rest of the Color Gang don't seem to be too concern.

Heck, even the prank episode can be shown as Red fucking around in his downtime.

(The Lucky Block episode is a pretty self-contained episode as it mostly happens inside the block so a lot of people probably weren't aware of it.)

Second and co. are constantly coming up with ideas to create fun activities and keep everyone's spirits up, making them very successful Symbols of Hope alongside Rebel. Mango and Purple are also considered as symbols as they work side by side with Rebel and were the ones that came up with this Minecraft Shelters in the first place. Chosen is seen as a symbol of Despair at first, but as time goes on after he joins Rebel's cause, public opinion slowly starts to shift in a better light for him. They don't consider him a complete symbol of hope but he's becoming less and less associated with Despair now, which is more than enough for him.

My Mutual: Gee I sure hope nothing fucks this up-

The Mercs:

LIKE, YEAH, THE DESPAIRS ARE BAD, BUT UNFORTUNATELY, VIC HAS HIS OWN GOALS IN MIND-

At some point the Mercs eventually find out that Chosen is in Minecraft and end up creating their own Nether portal, ambushing a shelter and telling Rebel to bring out the "Despair" and RocketCorp will leave them alone. Chosen immediately tries to give himself up instead of fighting back, but Second is like, "No, don't do it!" and Rebel is like, "NUH UH" and immediately runs in to fight the Mercs themselves. They always got bad vibes from RocketCorp and this just confirms their suspicions that they're up to no good, even going as far as to accuse them in supporting the Despairs themselves. Which, they're technically not wrong about, they just don't have concrete evidence beyond them trying to arrest Chosen, which is would be fair in any other circumstance. This results in a 3 VS 4 scenario where Rebel is fighting the Mercs for Chosen's safety, Chosen is just trying to survive and talk down Rebel, and Second, unlike canon where Chosen kinda just plops them into the situation, jumps in as well to protect Chosen, too. Mango and Purple are doing their best to escort the citizens to safety while the Color Gang are about to go down and help as well-

-But, oops! The Despairs are coming through the very portal the Mercs used to enter their Minecraft world! So the Color Gang is forced to split their attention on the Despairs and destroying the Nether portal while Mango and Purple defend the shelters.

The situation does stabilize once the Despairs are taken care of, but the 3V4 fight pretty much ends in the Mercs favor like in canon, except I'm thinking they take Rebel with them? But they might just leave them paused as they just up and leave, lmao. Either way, RocketCorp's reputation is not going to look good cause everyone saw that, although Rebel will certainly get criticized for their choice as well. And the Mercs destroy the Nether portal on the way out, all dramatically before Green could reach the portal and follow after them. They regroup, discuss what the fuck just happened and the Color Gang are tasked with trying to get them back while Mango and Purple try to manage things in the Minecraft shelters.

That's about it for the "main story" but I do have an idea for The Dark Lord:

Basically, The Dark Lord hid away in the DeepNet and has made a living for himself, even if he's frustrated and hurt by being "betrayed" by Chosen. Honestly, I think he'd take part in the Despair terrorism as he was definitely the most gung-ho about the terrorism back then. Like, even though he planned to hurt Alan with his virus, he still enjoyed the terrorism in the past before ever involving him again. He, again, makes more Viruses and shares them with others…and would give them away to the Despairs, too. Hell, I can see Dark taking part in the incidents, leaving whispers of people witnessing a familiar red blur hurting and killing other people…

Chosen is hoping it's not who he thinks it is.

And the minute word spreads about RocketCorp kidnapping Rebel, Second, and Chosen, Dark is immediately raiding it. To help Chosen? To take his revenge? Who knows, it depends on how you want to interpret him and what you wanna see from him after everything he's done.

Honestly, I don't have a lot of thoughts on The Dark Lord for this, he's kinda just doing his own thing. Same with Vic, but they pretty much lean towards Despair.

(And because I have no idea where else to put this, uh, I kinda forgot that Second would be shocked to learn of Chosen's experience with Alan back then when they meet up with Rebel. Like, yeah, he deleted the Color Gang once and threatened to do it again, but after all this time, it feels more like a misunderstanding as Alan clearly did not realize that they were sentient, even if he was pretty callous about it, and started treating them with kindness and respect. They also can't ask Alan about it right now cause, uh, he's missing. 💔 And while making this post, I realized that Second would find out about Chosen's terrorism through Rebel and other citizens…That's gonna be one hell of a conversation between them once they meet up.)

But yeah, that's about it for the time being. And if you're wondering what made me think of this crossover, well...

I stickfigured Teruya and it spiraled from there. He'd basically be our audience surrogate into the OuterNet if I were to ever write a story on this.

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cha1cedony · 3 months

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I have to analyze a multimedia project (in the form of another multimedia project) for a class… Should I do the most embarrassing thing ever or

#I don’t think podcasts (with no accompanying visuals) count as multimedia?#but idek what I would want to analyze about DnDads anyway #yet another Grant Wilson character study? 😭😭 LMAO #and then I thought #HOMESTUCK #but no I don’t even care enough about Homestuck anymore to analyze anything about it #and THENNN I thought.#danganronpa #💀💀 goddd #I know EXACTLY what I would analyze too #<- the fuckin transmisogyny of Shinguuji’s whole character (and also other characters)#Shinguuji was my favorite character since I was like 14 LOL nobody gets him like I do fr 😤 /lh #anyway I could do a zine and put red lipstick all over it. awesome #ahem anyway. sorry I’ll never post about dr again (lie) (it’s my worst ever special interest forever) (but only like 5 of the characters)#(and I don’t even like it anymore I just really like criticizing it. it’s fun)#OKAY I’M. DONE. SORRY #😇😇 teehee #I need to stop saying teehee all the time #chalcy stuff #EDIT: just reread these tags… awful awful awful. hs and dr in one post in 2024. nightmare

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moeblob · 2 months

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Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

#my characters #waiting on some info on the next commission so i indulged in ocs today bc i doubt i will have as much time for lil comics for a bit #deacon is so devoted hes like yeah i would kill for a deity that could easily kill anything himself but yknow teehee #and fulj just did you tell him you needed therapy also does he even know youd murder in his name #deacon caught red handed haha no of course i havent told him it should be obvious enough haha.... and its in his defense not his name :c #man really does have some issues but i love him so much and hes so devoted but like. unhealthily after a while #he does in fact need a chill pill and therapy but to be fair #ymber has needed therapy for centuries and yet he just bottles it all up and suffers so #its pretty unhealthy until they yell at each other one (1) time bc they are so insecure about things and get mad over very valid reasons #but then theyre like you know what that was necessary and i still want to stay by your side if you let me #and then fulj is like dude hey sorry you seem really happy did you fu- and ymber is like no please stop there we have not #fulj just squinting cause have not is very different than will not but whatever she doesnt wanna think about that with deacon involved ew #and eventually fulj is like hey ymber im sorry to say but i really do hate deacon and i dont even know why but he makes me uncomfortable #while deacon is just. in the room. hearing this and thinking how he knows she thinks hes weird but wow that wording hurts #and ymber doesnt wanna fill in memories better forgotten by fulj which she had forcefully removed #so he just says oh well his hair and clothing are black and you had someone in the past that you might see in him and its not a pleasant en #so you know maybe its that idk #and fulj is then WHATST i was rude to him for someone i cant even remember? lame im gonna try SO HARD to be nice to him now #and deacon just still sitting there with some food like this is v awkward and i wish i could not be here for it #and later he asks ymber about who he resembled and as ymber is descibing her it clicks in deacons head and he gets really sad #that he might somehow remind fulj of the woman she loved before she was punished for loving a mortal #and he feels kinda bad pestering her so much with his curiosities about deities and he kinda gets it #the fact hes close to ymber might remind her at the core that she was once that close with a mortal if not closer #anyway story time in the tags again #im so obsessed with these peeps and i have made them suffer so much but they do all end on a happy note #its still funny and nice to me that while fulj is creeped out by deacon and doesnt like talking to him #he still expresses the most emotions to her - he tries hard to remain serious around ymber and collected and obedient at all times #and when out and about with ymber he has to be intimidating and refuses smiling but fulj?? all sunshine and smiles and emotions easy to rea #and she is just that is so weird go away i hate you

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 1 day

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preemptively sorry for how fucking long this is it is YOUR FAULTT THOUGH!!!! large bowl of seeds for u. it is almost 2am sorry.

SO. there are. two ways to assign the prime defenders powers etc. the first way is just, like, categorize their existing powersets within the prt framework, & the second is to give them entirely new abilities based on the way worm works. delightfully, all the powers they Do have work really well for the most part, so even that doesn't require a ton of shuffling.

categorizing their pre-existing powers:

wiwi-- breaker w/ a shaker subclass. neither of them rated very high, but that's already a rare and versatile enough combination!!

dakota-- brute babeeeey!!! brute/mover its so straightforward. hell yeah babey. i don't know what he'll end up looking like post-heart removal & stuff but my guess is that'll end up looking more like a mover/striker.

vyncent-- now THIS one gave me trouble. i... hm. to say this without talking about stuff that i don't think has come up much already, (hey!! you're at that clockblocker pov! directly related to what flechette says!) i'd call him a grab-bag cape, irt the greats at least. post-greats-- again, i don't know what his powerset will look like after this arc! but if he's going all in w/ the fire magic, that would for sure be some striker shit! :]]]

giving them new powers... man i'm reining myself in so hard from five more paragraphs on Why exactly i'm saying all this.

wiwi still breaker for sure, maybe breaker-master, maybe master-stranger. yknow. powers are fluid, the prt categories are pretty rigid. i... don't know. enough about his situation yet to be clearer than that vague idea yet-- i really like the idea of him just. ditching his body & using a noncorporeal form but he still has to keep an eye on his body i think that's great. the noncorporeal form would b able to change its visibility but still b limited by proximity to the body. & fluctuating energy shit powered by fluctuating amounts of recent-death in the area, maybe probably also limited in that it's only accessible in his breaker form.... also i think u will appreciate this style note from the [UNNAMED PARAHUMANS TTRPG] i'm referencing a lot here.

dakota--in this situation he probably would not. have that mechanical heart and shit. he' would still be a mover/thinker-- thinker rating is for faster mental processing + senses imminent pain for the people in his immediate vicinity. not danger, just pain; it immediately registers ambiently & can be generally traced back to whoever it is. no he can't turn it off ever, it manifests as feeling a similar level of pain, yes it works on himself. + mover-- he can fucking fly. no super strength, just very fast flight & the general "won't splat himself flying into something" capabilities, which meshes well w/ the faster processing & reflexes. i'm split on how exactly this would work mechanically but i will NOT go into that now. i am also not going into the 15k discussion in my brain on why dakota 'notoriously bad at thinking about things' cole would be a thinker but u gotta trust the process ok??

vyncent-- trump!!!! somehow this is the only straightforward one to me? he can copy powers at the full strength or ability level of the original for an unspecified amount of time that's usually 1-30 minutes by touching the cape. crucially, he doesn't have any edge on how to use these powers + can easily misuse or become extremely overwhelmed by them. he's easily the most powerful out of the three of them <33

ashe-- ashe is NOT HERE currently and also it's 1:30 am so i gotta go fucking sleep soon BUT they would be a master. easy. :o) they can make some lil guys n do stuff with them!!!!

in general these are pretty fucking cracked abilities, all of them would b oosely above a seven or so in a number rating once they're really settled in their powers-- this is mostly because i'm assuming that they would still be heirs-apparent to the prime force equivalent, which would b the triumvirate :]] anyway. good lord. this is like the cliff notes edition of what i've been thinking and scribbling in the notes app for the past several hours. sorry if it's fucking incomprehensible. gn!!! <333

AAAAAH FUCK YESSSSSS OKAY OKAY OKAY my response is probably going to be equally as long. so it's fine. oooouh buddy.

I KNOW WHAT BREAKER MEANS NOW !!! I dontttt think ive learned shaker yet. breaker is like.... breaking the laws of physics/shifting planes or whatever. PERFECT for william hell yes. for putting them actually in worm world ... ughhhh breaker/master william is REALLY cool. I havwnt learned stranger yet but i think he would develop a complex over being classified as stranger <3 (like how weld doesn't like that he's classified as a brute even though that's not exactly what it means, he just doesn't like the word) . GODDDD just thinking abt putting pd boys in worm is fucking me up haven't they been through enough. I want to see them all in a fit of despair. william ditching his body is SO good I miss when he would do that, also the powers being limited by how far away he is AND THE AMOUNT OF RECENT DEATH IN THE AREA. holy shit. that's so fucking good . im sure he would not overthink at all the fact that he is stronger when more people around him have died . I'm sure he'd do awesome in the leviathan fight for sure for sure .

DAKOTA BRUTE <3 DAKOTA BRUTE/MOVER I LOVE THIS A LOTTTTTT hellbyes. awesome. it's so perfect for him <3 worm world I'm SURPRISED u didn't stick with brute for him. eyes emoji. I trust your judgement but now i am Thinking... Hmm..... YOU BRING INTO QUESTION something I have been thinking about. and I'm going to probably get derailed a little here but stay with me. how the way powers manifest directly relate to the trigger event. because for a WHILE before we learned taylors I was like "OH i bet the powers are going to be directly related to what traumatic thing happened to them" and then we learn about taylor and grue and a couple more and I kind of lost that theory because while you can. technically draw relations between their powers and their events it seemed like too much of a stretch to do . HOWEVER now my thinking has changed AGAIN and I think the powers ARE related to specific trigger events but it's not as straightforward as "oh something scary happened to you with bugs so now you have bug powers" I think it's gonna be more complicated than that. WHICH. THE WAY THIS RELATES. BACK ON TOPIC NOW. to DAKOTA . assuming his trigger event is still he and katori falling off the building I think it's AWESOME that his powers would manifest as FLIGHT for one. and the fucking. pain sense thing. fuck me up. dakota extreme hero complex cole would be so fucked up by a power where he ambiently senses pain from the people around him at all times and cannot turn it off. I'm sure he would feel so normal about being around william chronic pain wisp 24/7. also I can SO CLEARLY imagine how this power specifically would lead to him getting super overwhelmed in chaotic situations like he does in canon. and just fucking. bolt out of there because it's too much. again. he'd have such a wonderful time in the leviathan fight

I AM AT CLOCKBLOCKER POV !!!! actually technically I'm on kid win pov now but I haven't finished his chapter yet. vyncent grab bag cape..... yeah... I think it would be EXTREMELY funny imagining the PRT in pd world trying 2 classify vyncent like. what the fuck does this kid do . what do we do with him. hes got other guys in his head that give him powers. is he a master??? no he can't fucking control them. is he a striker??? only SOMETIMES. is he a blaster?? AGAIN ONLY SOMETIMES. cannot classify him bitch!!!!!!!! giving him worm powers though.. UGH. being able to touch someone and COMPLETELY copy their powers but only for a short period of time???? I fucking love that a lot. he WOULD be the most powerful out of them!!! I can hear taylors inner analysis dialogue about him now and it's very similar to the clockblocker "DONT LET HIM.TOUCH YOU" panic. loooove imagining this playing off of the rest of pd,,, i know there was AT LEAST one time where he had william sort of transfer some of his ghost powers for a minute? I think it was during the lich fight in the theatre but i just remember vycnent floating and going intangible and NOT KNOWING how to control it or anything. loveeee that. in world dynamics I feel like vyncent would be a late addition to their team (instead of coming from another world maybe he just. had his trigger event happen way later than the other two..or something.) and not trusting them as much at first/being REALLY shaky using either of their powers but after a while being really comfortable in a fight with using either Williams or dakotas powers in a fight. Just like. imagining the fluidity of how they'd work together in a tense situation assuming they're not being complete dumbasses <3333 UGH it's really good

AAAASHE ASHE ASHE IM SOOO SO GLAD YOU INCLUDED ASHE IN THIS I miss him.so much every day. from what I know so far master involves having/making/controlling some sort of minion (cannot think of a better word than that rn) AND I THINK THATS REALLYYYY perfect for ashe. i assume he would actually work pretty closely to canon in that his limitation would be the book? or if he doesn't have the book maybe his limitation would be a) having only a few different types of things he could summon (the big hand, the water fairy, duck etc) and/or b) only being able to control them.for a short amount of time after they're summoned so he has to be quick about dismissing them. can't keep the demon hand around for too long or it might start picking things up and throwing them at random. putting teammates in danger bc he can't control it anymore etc etc. alsooooooo in clockblocker pov they VERY briefly mentioned the possibility of having secondary trigger events (?!!!!?!?!) and you know I locked onto that SO FUCKING HARD. ashe being born with powers and then his secondary trigger event being his mom's death <3 im.NOT even going to attempt to talk about how the trickster would work in worm world/if it would even exist in this setting bc i don't know enough about the types of powers and things yet..but just know. I am keeping this in the back of my mind "this is a fun surprise tool that will help us later" style

#also side note but can i say. thw whole time i was reading the leviathan fight a persistent thought in the back of my mind was #“man i really wish they had a cape here who could control water- THEY NEED TIDE... THEY NEED TIDE SO BAD”#so like..really normal about putting prime defenders SPECIFICALLY in the leviathan fight. teehee (<< most diabolical laugh youve ever heard #I HAVE A LOT MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT WILLIAM TOO BUT..HMMMMMMMMM DONT THINK I CAN SAY SOME OD THEM YET #EXTREMELY interested 2 see whether ur thoughts on specifically him and dakota #will change after both the training arc and certain other events <3 #hehehehehehehee #GOD I CANNOT STOP IMAGINING. PD IN WORM.WORLD. they would suffer so fucking badly man.#william wisp guilt complex about his powers turned up to 200 #HAVING A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT ASHE ALSOOOOO . AS ALWAYS #now that i know more abt power classes i am VERY confidently going to put mark down as a tinker/striker.#with the tinker rating being SLIGHTLY higher than striker bc he uses the things he makes to amplify his naturally weaker striker powers.#tiiiiiide im thinkingggg would be. whats the elemental one.#not breaker bc thats specifically about breaking physics and i dont think that works for him.#is it shaker?????? i dknt think ive learned shaker yet.#U ARE MORE EQUIPPED AT THIS THAN ME whats tide. tide would also for sure be a case 53 right. i havent exactly learned what that means yet #but im assuming its the whole artifically giving people powers thing and. thats tide baby. idk if clones would work in worm world #so maybe its him and his regular siblings all being specifically given elemental powers #so they could work together as some super crazy powerful team. and then. that Doesnt happen <3 #(idk if u have listened to the tide oneshot yet but. its good. if you ignore dodgeboy)#ANYWAY. i should start getting ready for work now. im having so many thoughts about this norlw #hollyyyyyy shit #infected my brain with worms (pun intended)#asks #friends!!!#intertexts #wormposting #jrwi pd #<< only tagging so i can find this later when i learn more and can properly yell about it #new haven wards

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dbphantom · 11 months

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I am so fucking glad this actually returned what I was trying to say while writing tags about Law's kickass outfits because the unhelpful instamash mix I disrespectfully call a brain was supplementing all the wrong words and I didn't feel like finding that one writing thesaurus site on mobile

#My brain does this ALL THE TIME ITS SO ANNOYING #Like no buddy!!! Those are the wrong words stop it!!!#Today I forgot the word for syllable. My brain would not stop saying 'consonant' when that's not what I wanted and I knew that wasn't it #It's so frustrating #Because like. I *know* the words. I*know* I know the words. So Why. Why. Why. Can't you just remember them correctly. Ever.#It makes writing so difficult because once I'm knocked out of that flow state by searching stuff I'm never getting back #It's the same with like CS stuff. I *KNOW* these things. So Why can my brain just decide to conveniently forget the instant #I actually NEED to remember the information. Like 'whoops teehee'#'yeah those documents u wanted that were taking up space on my desk forever and ever? I JUST shredded them'#So I spend 48 hours stomping around rewriting all the paperwork and then when the task is done and over with #THEN ITS LIKE 'oh so I found a copy on one drive because it made an automatic backup but nobody uses or likes onedrive so I didn't see it'#WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS BRAIN #Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa-#Anyway. I thought this was mildly humorous I'm not actually That Frustrated about what just happened #It's more of just a general frustration with how my brain functions bc like. Come on #I put so much work in to learn and memorize all this stuff and it just takes it throws it out the window #It's very much a 'why should I even bother trying at this point' scenario for me #Cruddy rambles #Obviously apathy will get me nowhere. But it's extremely hard to stay positive when I legit just forget I need to do that :/

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readymades2002 · 2 years

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the thing is i feel like /i/ can read tone pretty well but no one can read my unaffected tone as anything but pissy and then i immediately validate their reading of that tone by getting pissy!!!!!!!! like okay i wasnt mad before but now i’m mad!!!! are you happy!!!

#pissy is the word my mom ALWAYS uses its so. its so demeaning i HATE when she says that to me #the problem is if i stop doing my usual stupid 'ohohoh i am so pleasant and charming and eager to help! i am at your service!#i am so funny and i have a funny shape! don't kill me okay look how chipper i am!' thing i always do and just. act normally #it usually IS because im too worn out to pretend anymore and thus i do get angrier easier because guess what i am always mad #it doesnt help that i am still upset with her specifically for SOOOOO many reasons i can never get into #she was like 'hmph...well i thought you were annoyed because you didnt want to do this thing so i said i could do it #and you got all pissy and stormed off i would have let you do it if you asked -_-'#when LITERALLY. THE LITERAL THING I SAID TO HER. WAS 'can you please just let me do this on my own'#I SAID EXACTLY WHAT I MEANT. FOR ONCE. i was not passive i was not avoidant i literally literally literally asked exactly what i wanted #and she interpreted it IN THE EXACT OPPOSITE WAY.#and also NO YOU FUCKING WOULDNT she would have just hovered over my shoulder the whole time like she always does #because she doesnt consider me capable of fucking anything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#no im mad again i literally said i LITERALLY said i wanted to do it alone that is explicitly what i asked her to do #to let me do it alone and she REPEATED THOSE WORDS BACK TO ME and still said 'so obviously i thought you were mad #because you didn't want to do it and you thought i was making you do it'#NO IM PISSED AGAIN. WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!#IM SO FUCKING MAD!!!!!! I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN ANY FUCKING BLUNTER. WHAT DO I NEED TO DO #if i had done my giggle teehee well i can actually handle this just fine on my own thanks though its so nice of you to ask thing #that takes fifty fucking hours to do just to communicate with allistics that its fine and im not upset at them personally #instead of just GETTING THINGS DONE because its RUDE to do that i guess then she'd be fine with it #or so she says. god. god. how am i supposed to fucking communicate with literally anyone on this earth

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astraltrickster · 1 year

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What frustrates me about disability advocacy is that...of all the people I've seen talk about it, 99% of them - even ones who are disabled themselves - have eventually proven that their support has limits. Really stupid and arbitrary ones, at that.

You support disabled people...but if you see an adult with a DIAPER BULGE in their pants in public it's ON SIGHT, get your kink out of my face! Actually, even if it's not a kink, that's still gross and, like, it's not like the diaper exists to CONTAIN waste, you're a biohazard! Just stay home!

You support disabled people...but, ugh, you're so sick of masks, they feel so icky, the CDC isn't advising them anymore so really how bad can it be, if you don't want to be permanently disabled even worse than you already are then why don't you just stay home forever?

You support disabled people...but if you see anyone using a non-conventional straw that someone's billed as "anti-aging" on TikTok you proudly declare that you'll smack them, because what do you mean it might be a motor control or sensory thing?

You support disabled people...but no one is REALLY so disabled that they can't manage their lights conventionally, clean their homes by themselves, or hold a pen for extended periods of time or at all; that's just something people make up as an excuse for Bad Tech and exploitative luxury services.

You support disabled people...but, god, control your by-definition-uncontrollable tics, they're SOOOO annoying and rude!

You support disabled people...but when someone stops masking or runs out of spoons and starts speaking in a choppy, hard-to-understand way, it's a joke.

You support disabled people...but AAC is, like, sooooo annoying and hard to understand, learn to talk like a normal person instead of pointing like a baby or whatever, geez.

You support disabled people...but you hate image descriptions and video transcriptions because they're, like, sooooo ugly and transcriptions SPOIL things. (Not to be confused with "frequently not having the spoons to translate images and videos into text, which is a skill; one which everyone should try to develop, but a skill nonetheless" - I get that, it happens to me, but if you take issue with OTHER people adding them to your posts for Aesthetic Reasons, you're...kind of a dick! I'm not sorry for saying it!)

You support disabled people...but you think teehee funny joke annotations are a much more valuable use of caption tracks than, you know, actual captions are.

You support disabled people...but you still concern-troll people with armchair diagnoses of heavily stigmatized disorders for harmless weirdness, or try to paint them as icons of some kind of horrible social ill.

You support disabled people...but you're still convinced that every asshole is mentally ill, probably A Narcissist, and what do you mean that's a loaded thing to call someone when a heavily stigmatized disorder is rudely misnamed as such too, isn't it easier to, like, change the name of the disorder throughout the whole system than it is to just stop using that word as your go-to Bad Person Pathologizing Word, which you definitely need? (Or worse, you see no problem with this clash because you're convinced it IS Bad Person Disorder...)

You support disabled people...but you see someone mumbling to themself on the bus and you get as far away from them as possible because it's "scary".

You support disabled people...but you constantly try to pull "gotcha"s about people telling you not to touch people's assistive devices.

You support disabled people...but someone being okay with their delusional disorder and talking about that is BAD and PROMOTING SELF-HARM.

You support disabled people...but your body positivity still focuses exclusively on "people can be healthy and fat at the same time!" as if people who ARE fat because of health issues and/or have health issues BECAUSE of their weight don't exist or deserve support.

You support disabled people...but you declare that advocates who want us all to have more access to things that improve your quality of life are the REAL ableists for acknowledging that those things that you currently can't do tend to improve quality of life.

You support disabled people...but your advocacy for yourself involves distancing yourself from people with more support needs than you.

You support disabled people...but you treat addiction of any kind, or use of anything with known addictive tendencies, as a moral failing.

You support disabled people...until the accommodations they need clash with your own, then it's not just a benign incompatibility that sucks just as much for them as it does for you; no, you are an innocent victim and they are a horrible ableist.

You support disabled people...until it's too inconvenient. Too weird. Too scary. Once that line is crossed, it's not a disability issue anymore, they're, conveniently, just a Bad Person.

It's fucking exhausting and I'm sick to death of it.

#disability #serious tag #bitching #and even after i posted this i keep thinking of more shit people have said #not gonna edit them in because this post is long and has already been reblogged a couple of times #but might keep track of them in the tags or add more in a reblog #because. i can keep going.

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vanderilnde · 4 months

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HELLO HELLO HI!!! just read your butcher!simon and i’m. in LOVE??? maybe you could continue about reader like. keeps running into him at the Worst Times (running late going somewhere looking like shit, barely awake or crying in the elevator idk LOL) and he’s just like 🤨🤨??? OR reader tries to make small talk with him since they usually get off work at the same time but simon being simon he’s just like. hm. or grunts HE’S TRYING! BUT HE’S JUST a bit socially inept… oRRR reader bakes and had some leftovers and decides to give extras to simon and he’s like. Okay . and pretends that he’s not amused but secretly loves it SO CUTE AAGHH can’t think of anything else but penny for your thoughts? teehee LOVE YOUR WORKKK

ARGHHHH socially inept butcher!simon is so cute. i wanna build a shrinking machine and zap him with it and fossilise him in amber <3

Dusk has eclipsed Manchester, draping a greyscale blanket over the city by the time you enter the laundry room with a hamper tucked under your arm.

That was fifteen minutes ago. And since then, you’ve been trying to get the damn washing machine to work.

It’s an old hunk of junk. Repurposed scrap metal with duct tape lining its corners and a dog-eared note hanging above it, reading, Do Not Overload! in crude writing.

You bend your thumb into the start button for the umpteenth time, but it’s fruitless. The feeble machine rumbles to life, sputtering, then has its embers killed as it fails to continue running.

You angrily huff. Your eye bags are as laden as your muscles, heavy and weighed down with the stress of everything piling up. Job hunting; the constant maintenance your neglected flat needs; the abrasive attitude of your new neighbours.

Fleetingly, you consider moving back home. But before the rumination snatches you, you snuff it out with a swift, irritable kick to the drywall next to you, your toes bending with the impact, the pain crawling up your marrow.

“Bit uncalled for, don’t you think?” Chimes from behind you, and you swirl around, coming face-to-mask with Simon. You hope he can’t see your dewy waterline.

“Don’t believe that wall ever did nothin’ to ya,” he tacks on.

The cellophane of the plastic bag he holds—which you presume carries his laundry—crinkles as he clenches his hand. He’s swathed in sweatpants and a compression shirt, slick with a wisp of sweat, and lets his curls sit freely, its tint somewhere on the threshold between rustic cocoa and gilded blonde.

Simon’s words belatedly catch up to you. You heed his attempt at a playful inflection, unsure if it was meant for you or for him, and flush when you see how expectantly, and bluntly, he’s eyeing you.

You listlessly gesture to the washing machine. “It isn’t working.”

His grunt is prefatory. Simon walks towards the machine, poises a fist over it, and brings his hand down on it in three, sparse punches.

The machine coughs out exhaust, then burgeons into a smooth run.

“Not broken,” Simon grumbles, his words barely lucid beneath his Manchester lilt, “just fucking old.”

“I see,” you mumble, “thanks.”

Simon steps back and begins unloading his own laundry. He stuffs wads of clothing, all imbued with blood and the scent of meat, into another machine.

A pinprick of gluttony tugs your stomach. To say something, anything, to keep the conversation warm.

“The mask…” you begin, “is the black mold in your flat that bad?”

Simon turns to you, his eyes deadpan. It sends icy humiliation up your spine, leaving you pettish.

The hum of the washing machine loosely offsets the thick embarrassment in the room. Loud and tinny.

Beneath the rumble, however, a small, barely-there chuckle crosses Simon’s tongue. “Ha,” he says. It’s charitable at worst and genuine at best.

“… I should go… while my clothes’re washing,” you mumble, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.”

You’re past the threshold, stepping into the corridor, when Simon calls after you.

Your lungs stutter and stop. You want him to ask for your number, ask you out to lunch some time, but when you turn around, you feel like you’re falling.

An ornamental pair of panties dangle from Simon’s forefinger. It’s lacy, gauzy, and should be lying on the floor of your flat.

You burn a searing molten as you snatch it from his hands, mortified, and sprint towards the lift.

You turned around before you could see it. A caper in Simon’s eye, the barest implication to something more than a maladroit interaction: an amused, titillating smirk beneath his mask.

#simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw2 #butcher!simon #simon writing #writing

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temiizpalace · 4 months

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☆┆TEND TO MY WOUNDS !

SUMMARY: red alert! he’s injured! it’s alright, for the prefect of ramshackle is here to save the day.

CHARACTERS: leona, jade, jamil, rook, idia

(i spun a wheel to try and write other characters.. jamil and leona just love me teehee)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: the boys get injured, but nothing is life threatening. — cursing — MENTIONS OF BLEEDING (not fatal)

ROMANTIC, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“shit! ow—“

leona groans, feeling the stinging pain of alcohol rubbed onto his forehead. spelldrive didn’t go as it usually did.

everything was normal. practice was going well, and everybody was doing the proper training regiments. it was all fun watching leona and everybody practice by a nearby tree. except leona wasn’t practicing this afternoon.

today, he felt like napping right beside you. he laid his head in your lap, sound asleep. this all goes south when some freshmen decide to mess around, sending the disc flying in your direction.

typically leona would’ve been able to divert it with magic, but feeling a little hazy from barely awakening, it hit him straight on the forehead.

now here you both are, present in the infirmary, leona sitting on the cot, and you being his own personal doctor. “i can’t believe the great leona kingscholar got hit by a spelldrive disc. it is truly an honor to witness it first hand.” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes.

“tch.. whatever— FUCK.” it’s funny to see leona in such a state. one where his tough guy act isn’t all the way up. you thought he’d brush off the pain like a man, but surprise! we learn something new everyday.

“haha.. wait here. i need to find bandages.” you walk over to the cabinet, only to find all the boxes of bandages empty. except for one. a bandaid box. you snicker at the sight of them and take a couple out of the box. leona raises a brow as he heard your giggling in the back til you made your way back towards him.

you stood in front of him and placed the bandaids on his forehead. he liked the close proximity. he likes being by your side. you caring for him like this is actually one of his deepest desires. he won’t ever say it aloud of course, but he hopes you take the hints.

“you are now officially cured.” you grin, finally applying the last bandaid. he stood up, looking you in the eyes. he wanted to thank you. wanted to thank you for helping him. wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to do this. to help him.

but leona being leona cannot say thank you. “..I don’t wanna owe you any favors so,” he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and throws it to you. you catch it, nearly dropping all the thaumarks inside on the floor. “go buy somethin’ while you’re at it.”

he ruffles your hair, walking out of the infirmary. you flip through the wallet, it barely closing due to the amount of cards and thaumarks inside. rich boy privileges go crazy. ruggie wasn’t kidding when he said leona was stinkin rich. all you could do was stand there, shocked.

leona walks back out to the field, hearing the team laugh as he approaches. he looks at them with a puzzled look, the laughing becoming unbearable. “oi, what’s so funny? mind tellin’?”

“cute bandaids ya got there, boss. shishishishi..” ruggie chuckles, looking at leona’s super cute and silly unicorn bandaids on his forehead. at first, he’s confused. then he rips a bandaid off and looks at the patterns.

start running <3

🐬┆JADE LEECH

“jade, stop moving!”

you sigh, trying to place a bandaid on jade’s cut. you wanted to help him cook today since mostro lounge has been extremely busy lately. azul had been working him to the bone, so he used his time off as a way to spend time with you.

only to end up back in the kitchen, but whatever. since you’re there, it’s all good. while chopping a mysterious vegetable, (it’s a mushroom..) he accidentally cut his finger. he wasn’t paying attention to where he was cutting. cause he was looking at you.

normally somebody would wince in pain, but jade is jade. so. “oh my, this is unexpected.” he says, as his blood gets on his gloves and contaminates the mushrooms. “oh my what— OH MY GOSH, JADE.” you yell, as he’s abnormally calm about the fact blood was all over the mushrooms.

so now he’s sitting at one of the barstools in mostro lounge as you try to patch up his finger. anytime the bandaid gets remotely close to the cut, he squirms and jerks his hand away. you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or if he’s just sensitive to touch because he still has his dumb polite smile.

“jade. stop. moving.” you grunt, trying to grab his wrist to hold his hand still. “fufu..” his stupid chuckle is usually very nice but it’s just growing irritating.

for some reason he still has the impulse to tease you. even when injured. all you want to do is care for him, so why is he making this so difficult?! is he waiting for something?

oh. that’s an idea.

“jade, may i see your hand?” you ask, putting the bandaid on the counter. he raises a brow, but complies nonetheless. “of course. do be gentle though, im wounded.” well no shit.

you held his hand gently, raising a finger up to your lips. you place a gentle kiss on his finger. not on the wound exactly, but near it. his eyes slightly widened and his cheeks tinted slightly red. he loses his composure for just a moment, giving you time to apply the bandaid onto his cut.

you smile in victory, standing up from your seat. “there, all better!” you winked at him before making your way back to the kitchen. he sat there, dumbfounded. how curious.. if that’s a way to get free kisses..

“oh dear, it appears i had just cut my lower lip. what a shame. it appears i am in need of some assistance.” this wasn’t even five minutes later.

🐍┆JAMIL VIPER

“you scream like a girl.”

you laugh as jamil looks away from you. he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes. a little earlier, the both of you were sitting in the lounge of ramshackle as comfortable silence filled the air.

he was flipping through pages of a book while you leaned onto his shoulder, playing a game of some sort on your phone.

“..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

that silence was interrupted as you heard a high pitched scream next to you, turning your head to see jamil absolutely mortified and panicked.

“JAMIL?! WHAT IS—“ then you spotted it. the wretched cockroach crawling on the table. he shut his book and threw it at the table, missing. now he’s grabbing all nearby objects to kill the insect.

“JAMIL PLEASE CALM DOWN, PLEASE! FUCK, JAMIL—” he ended up using his magic, but used a lil too much. as you held him back, his leg bumped against the table, causing him to scurry back to the couch.

confirming that the roach had cleared the premises, you sat next to him and checked the bump on his leg. his breaths were heavy and a sweat was across his brow. you would’ve thought he looked insanely attractive if it weren’t for the incident just before.

now he’s embarrassed, his hood is pulled over, and he’s pouting as he looks away from you. “i think you got a small cut, but it should be fine. i’ll go get some bandaids!” you hum, getting up from the cushions to find the box of bandages.

he completely humiliated himself in front of you. he was weak in front of you. and he hates that. “im back and here to repair your boo-boo.” you came back with the box, sitting back down and opening it. you remove a bandaid and slowly apply it til you hear him mutter something.

“sorry.”

“hm? sorry, couldn’t hear ya. mind speaking up for me?” you heard him perfectly fine. he irks before speaking up, his tone hinted with annoyance. “sorry.”

“all is forgiven, my love.” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. he sighs, reciprocating the hug and leaning onto you. “please forget you saw that..” he mumbles, his face practically burning.

you chuckle, playing with loose strands of his hair as the both of you now lied on the couch. “no promises..” he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but placed a quick kiss on your cheek. he shuts his eyes, needing to recharge.

“mhm. love you too, jamil.” you whisper, allowing him to rest on your chest. he fell asleep in no time flat. let him rest. or even better yet, join him!

🏹┆ROOK HUNT

“how’d you fall?”

you ask, seeing as rook lied on the ground. i don’t know how to explain his pose, he’s just a theatre kid.

“never mind the details, ma chère. all that matters is that you had rushed to my rescue!” he smiles as you stood there. the most deadpan expression on your face. “i’ll just go get you bandages and not question it.” “merci!”

you rush to the infirmary, grabbing the bandages and rushing out. if nobody knew better, they’d all have assumed that rook was dead. he hasn’t moved an inch.

“where’d you injure yourself?” you ask, crouching down and inspecting his arms. “non, non. you must guess!” he laughs, sitting up right away. you groan as he initiated such an idea. “rook. im not going to guess—“

“if that is the case, ill be stuck in everlasting pain! it’d be unbearable.” he sighs dramatically, causing you to furrow your brow. “fine. did you injure your leg?” you grumble, checking each limb.

he shook his head, smiling like an absolute idiot. “here, allow me to give you a hint.” he grabs your hand guiding it to the place of the wound. of course he can’t do it without teasing you a little.

he places your hand on his shoulder, his hand, his neck, til eventually he stopped on his cheek. “my injury can be found around here.”

you look at his cheek, but there is no cut, scratch, or bruise to be seen. you raise a brow at him, but he has no shift in reaction. “rook, are you lying to me?” rook shook his head, looking you in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you, mon amour. perhaps you need a closer look.”

before he could even explain what that meant, he pulled you towards him. causing you to fall onto him. “can you see it now?” he asks, staring at you lovingly.

you sigh, pulling a bandage out and placing it onto his lips. his eyes widened, but he wasn’t mad. not in the slightest! he wrapped his arms around you. taking this opportunity for a cuddle session.

despite your “annoyance,” you smiled and laughed slightly. “you’re impossible, rook.”

he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, humming happily as you spoke. his fingers intertwined with yours as the sun hit both of your figures. creating a scene resembling one of a fairytale.

💀┆IDIA SHROUD

“you can’t lock yourself into your room because of this.”

you slightly chuckle as you patch up idia’s knee. moments before, his PE class had to do the sprints. looks like he went to class on the wrong day.

while he was running, he tripped on a conveniently placed rock and fell on his knee. ortho quickly went to find you and bring you to idia so that you can comfort him.

he had tears coming from his eyes, which caused ortho to panic. you both carried him to the infirmary since he had an inability to walk. you situated him onto the cot and grabbed some bandages from the cabinets. “don’t worry niisan! the prefect will take good care of you!”

ortho chimed, trying his best to comfort his brother. idia felt his stress lessen, but that doesn’t change the immense pain he was in. “thank you, ortho. but i don’t im ever gonna to go outside again.”

he mumbles, causing ortho to pout. you come back with the bandages, smiling as you sat to the side of the cot. “im gonna have to go explain to coach vargas why you’re not here! hang tight, niisan!”

you waved to ortho, leaving just you and idia in the infirmary. “idia, you’re not going to die because of this.” you smile, placing the bandage onto his knee. idia groans, picking at his fingers. “i looked so cringe just now. definitely not my moment.”

“you didn’t look cringe, idia. you got hurt.” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. he smiles slightly as you tried to reassure him. it was endearing to him. “thanks.. but i want to lock myself in my room for like ever after this..” he quickly mutters, hoping you wouldn’t hear that. surprise! you heard him.

“no idia, you can’t lock yourself in your room forever after this.” you sigh, realizing this was the man you fell in love with. “what? you can come too. you’d be free from all the normies surrounding you.” he stated bluntly.

“..no.” you hesitantly said, squeezing his hand slightly. you both sat in the infirmary for a few more moments before you sat up and let go of his hand. “can you stand?”

“no.” he quickly replies, not even bothering to try. you stare at him before exhaling deeply. “i’ll bring your switch then. wait here.” he smiled as he watched you exit the room. he appreciated how understanding you were. how you knew what he wanted before he even had to ask. ..well, most of the time anyway.

when you came back, you sat next to him on the cot. you both played smash bros together, playing until the console runs out of batteries. lucky for him, his console lasts for almost an entire week before it runs out of power.

let me just say, he beat your ass in smash bros.

A/N: this sat in my drafts for a very long time. i had to brainstorm A LOT to see how idia could get injured.

date published: 1/27/24

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst fluff #twst #twst wonderland

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oct0bra1ns · 7 days

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Can I please request, four platonic yandere brothers with helpless y/n who only grew up relaying on their brothers

My god, i take so long to answer, anyways teehee, im finally answering things yayayayay my trip back home is uh not going to happen i think, very sad, anyways also omg, four brothers also also, im lazy so for now, their names are numbers :p

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Having four brother to look after you is probably great when you're young but a pain when you're older, combined with the fact their yandere behaviour it's probably hell on earth.

You have to ask them permission for any and everything you do, and unless they say yes, you won't be able to do anything. If involves a friend, one or two will always be hiding in the background in case something happens.

The eldest, One, makes all his brothers report everything to him, where you go, what you do but he himself, never steps in to stop you from doing something, instead, he'll have Two or Three do the dirty work.

One is your beloved brother, who'd never do anything to make you upset, he may be pulling the strings but he'll never out himself as the villian.

One probably has the best job out of all the brothers and he has no problem handing you his card to go buy whatever you want, eat whatever you want. Hell, he takes you to expensive restaurants every now and then.

Even if you ask for a luxury car, he'll get it for you, no questions asked.

What his parents couldn't do, what they couldn't buy you, he'll buy it for you, he'll make sure you never lack in anything, whether it's something you need or something stupid, he'll hand it to you.

Having a good job, also means he's quite busy, but he makes time for you no matter what, one call and he'd drop everything to come to you, after all, his company should be more than equipped to deal with things in the absence of their CEO.

Two is the second eldest, the more strict brother, one who seems he'll scold you for sitting the wrong way, when in reality, he'd never do anything like that.

Despite being the one who finds a way to spoil all the plan One disapproves of, he makes sure to let you down gently, how horrible of an idea it is, how dangerous the outside is, especially when you're so looked after by four brother, the world is not as kind as they are.

Being a professor, Two is out most of the day but when he comes back, he always makes sure you have something to eat or buying something you want to eat. There isn't a single day he doesn't come back with a trinket in his hand.

Two is the brother you go to when you're having trouble with your assignments, he'll take all the time he has to explain it to you, no matter how busy you are, no matter how many assignments he has to complete, he'll always ready to explain things to you If you ever go into the same field as him, he'll pull some strings to get you into the same college he works in.

Two knows better than anyone how much you hate when people raise their voice at you, after all, he was the one who always comforted you after you got yelled at for not being able to understand your school work.

Two does not hesitate to go argue with the teacher if he sees and mishap in your grades, Two has years of experience and multiple connections, he'll make sure that teacher never gets to grade another paper again or if you get a lower grade than expected, he;ll go through the paper with you.

Three is someone who quiet, but the moment he opens his mouth, only sarcastic sentences and insults fall out of his mouth and even you as his sibling are not immune to this, although, he might tone it down so he doesn't get smacked by One again for making you upset.

Three is the brother you'd call after getting in a fight or if people were being creepy towards you, he wouldn't hesitate to break their nose off, and he always reaches the spot suspiciously fast.

Three might not be as rich or smart as the other two but he sure as hell knows how to deal with problems through violence. It's the only way he knows to look after you, you who used to get into ridiculous arguments, who used to stand there and accept every insult, not doing anything afraid to disappoint One or Two. He used to deal with people back then, he used to drag you away when your parents were fighting over something stupid, if he could he would have made sure you never has to see those things but back then, he wasn't as strong nor was he as capable as he is now.

Three is the brother you go to when something goes wrong with your car/bike, he'll fix it up for free, arguing how it got this bad because you took it to some random mechanic outside.

God forbid, Three ever find out a mechanic overcharged you with something, he'll go down there and pick a fight before demanding One to shut down the place.

Four is the youngest and closet to you in age, someone who's always up and about. He'd be dragging you to different places to try out different things.

Always going against One and taking you places, One disapproves off, claiming how you'll be completely safe with him and that nothing could go wrong.

Four knows how much it upsets you when Two or Three stop you from going somewhere when everyone is busy, so he makes it a point to take you there whenever he's free.

Four has always been stuck to your side like glue, back in school when no one wanted to sit with you and now when all your friends happen to be busy all the time.

He'd make it a point to show how awful your friends are, hanging out with others while ignoring you everytime. Unlike the other three, Four doesn't mind if your feelings get hurt a bit, perhaps sitting in a cafe, waiting for your friend for hours will teach you how unreliable they are and how much better your own brothers are, when they drop everything to come attend to your needs.

Of course, he doesn't go too far, four is well aware how one already disapproves of his ways and the last thing he needs from his brother is a lecture.

#octo answers #yandere x darling #tw yandere #yandere x reader #octo writes #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #platonic yandere #yandere x gn reader #platonic yandere x reader #yandere platonic #yandere writing #yandere male x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere brothers

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ncroissant · 1 month

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you can ignore this request but can I ask you to Make a story of Francis mosses and like a housewife reader who has an ignorant husband so when the milkman comes visit she "pays" him very nicely

switch! francis mosses x fem! reader

summary: paying your neighbourly milkman a hefty tip

wc: 2.2k

content warning: nsfw, cheating, double infidelity, masturbation, slight nipple play, soft dom francis energy, slightly subby francis, kind of unrealistic p in v (i was too lazy to write foreplay), creampie, very fluffy

author's note: hii anon, thanks sm for the ask :)) i love this sm and i hope ur okay with some sub married francis teehee >:) this was soooo self-indulgent :O hope u guys enjoy this one !! not proof read, minors please dni!!

your marriage was bland to say the least.

your husband was a busy man, working to provide for you to max out his credit card, but never giving a second of the day. he always blamed his lack of time at home on his job, never taking accountability.

you felt bored. he promised you a life of luxury with no work, but it was boring staying at home all day. weekly visits from cleaners to clean up the apartment gave you absolutely nothing to do at home.

but the longer your husband stayed away, the more time you spent listening in on your neighbors to past the time.

the milkman and his wife were a noisy couple.

you could hear the headboard thunking against the wall, his grunts and her awfully loud moans. he must be so good to her, you thought, feeling your fingers slip down your pj shorts.

you felt yourself passing the time, humping pillows, playing with toys and fucking yourself with your fingers. you could read every book in your apartment, watch tv for god knows how long and still be bored.

but one particular night, you heard a knock on your door.

you perked up, almost skipping to the door in excitement. you haven't had a visitor in ages and it was about time someone kept you some company in this little cage of yours.

"milk delivery." your eyes widened when you fully opened the door, realizing who was in front of you.

the buttons of his uniform were struggling to close, his hands veiny from his grip on the milk box he held in his arms against his stomach. seeing him this late at night was making you think of not so holy thoughts.

"what're you doing here so late? it's almost 9," you peered up at him, unaware of how your breasts nearly spilt out of your lingerie. you were wearing a skimpy little nightgown, forgetful of how you were married and half naked in front of another married man.

he smiled, placing the milk box beside your doorstep. "you're my last stop since we're neighbours. did i disturb you?" he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you felt your heart beating out of your chest, you could feel your fingertips vibrating. "no, not at all..." you bit your lip, feeling your thighs clench tightly.

"i needed some milk for my tea. would you like some as well?" you worked up the courage to ask, looking at him with an expectant look in your eyes. "if you're not tired," you clarified, lifting your hands.

he didn't look like he took much time to think it over, nodding at your suggestion. you didn't wait for a verbal response, ushering him inside, locking the door.

now, here he was, sitting at your kitchen table while you made tea. if only you could see what he could see. the entirety of your back was exposed, a v-cut just above your ass to cover the rest of your lower half.

"chamomile or green tea?" you called out softly, snapping him out of his daze. you looked back at his lack of silence, looking at how flustered he looked for dozing off.

"green tea," he murmured, averting your gaze. he was so comically large, making your kitchen chair look small. his hands were gathered on his lap, his back straight against the backrest, waiting for you to finish making his tea.

you sauntered over to his, leaning your hip against the kitchen table. "n-nice place," he stuttered when he got a closer look of you, trying to break the silence.

you didn't expect him to come in, but now that he was here, you didn't want to waste this perfect opportunity. "mhm...i decorated it myself," you leaned closer, giving him an innocent smile.

"y...you're very good at decorating," he swallowed. his hands were sweating, he felt them grip at his slacks anxiously.

"isn't it so sad that my husband didn't help me decorate at all?" you pouted, puffing out your lower lip. his eyes switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips.

francis mirrored your nod, gulping when he realized how close you were. you placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "you're very cute, francis," you chuckled as you pulled away.

you scurried away to turn off the stove, watching the water spill out of the kettle. when you reached your hand to grab the kettle, you felt a hand reach over yours to pull you back.

"careful, it's hot." he was pressed up against you, his painfully obvious bulge pressed against your ass. maybe it was because the only thing that was preventing your bare skin from touching his was his shirt, or how small you were compared to him, but he was literally shaking.

you spun around, hands now holding onto his sleeves. "help me onto the counter?" you looked up at him, slowly tugging him towards you.

francis was a loyal man. he was dedicated to his wife, to his work and to everything else. but however wrong he wanted to feel about lifting you onto the counter and smashing his lips onto yours, he just couldn't.

"so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, while your hands found themselves tangled in his brunette locks. "you're so pretty," he was almost whining, brows knit from the intensity of the kiss.

your other free hand cupped his cheek, dragging his even closer to deepen the kiss. his kisses felt even better than imagined. lips soft, tongue warm, sloppy.

you were scared that he would hear the way your heart thumping out of your chest. "f-francis," you'd pant, but he'd be too lost in the way your lips felt against yours to focus on anything else.

he'd pull away to just soak in the sight of you, admire the lips of the woman he just ruined. he'd look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, watching the way you'd nuzzle against his hand when he wiped away his spit off your lip.

"are we stopping here?" you frowned with a huff, tugging on the loop of his belt. "or can i tip you, hm? for the delivery?" you pleaded, tilting you head to look cuter.

he fell for it, having no intentions of stopping. "yeah, yeah. tip me or whatever, just don't stopping kissing me," he pressed kisses up your neck trailing up to your cheek.

you wanted to chuckle at his neediness, but you were feeling the same. your arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him to effortlessly lift you into his arms.

while you two made out, he carried you to you and your husband's shared bedroom, laying you down. he toppled over you, knee nestled between your thighs and arms caging you in his hold.

"i wish you could see yourself right now," he pulled away, his hand trailing up to your chest. your nipples were poking through the thin fabric of your night gown, his fingers toying with the neglected nub.

you jolted, biting your lip to hide an embarrassing moan. "d-do i really look that pretty?" you hide a moan with a laugh, throwing your head to the side when he pinched your nipple lightly.

"you're gorgeous," he sighed, rolling his fingers under your gown to lift it off your body. you were more beautiful than he had even imagined, waiting so patiently for him to do something.

before he leaned down to kiss you again, you tugged at his shirt. "take this off? 's embarrassing being the only one naked," you blushed, his eyes widening.

for a married woman, you were surprisingly inexperienced. francis never heard you getting railed by your husband. he could only hear your pretty whimpers when you pleasured yourself with toys, but never finishing.

he could only chuckle, reminiscing your frustrated sighs when you couldn't get yourself to finish. he smirked knowing now he could take matters into his own hands.

"whatever you want, sweetheart," he effortlessly tugged at his bowtie, unbuttoning his shirt. he was so handsome. lean, but not entirely skinny. bulky, but not too much. he was perfect.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. "you're so handsome, francis," you cooed. he felt his ears flush from your compliment, his knee riding higher up your thigh.

you moaned when you felt it reach your core, feeling yourself grind on it for more friction. "make me feel good, hm?" you flicked his loose hairs out of his face, making him bite his lip.

"want it inside, francie," your fingers trailed down to your pelvis, slightly opening your folds. his felt his dick throb, his eyes unmoving from your cunt.

almost immediately, he felt his dick throbbing against his suddenly too tight slacks. he grunted as he finally unzipped to let his cock free, his dick slapping against your tummy.

you gulped at the size, looking up at him in awe. "j-just the tip," he whined, his cock sliding against your stomach. a part of him still wanted to be somewhat loyal, but you so badly wanted him in you, your fingers wrapping around the head.

"you're so big," you gasped, your eyes were still widened. he could only rub himself against your fingertips, whimpering at the friction. "just the tip, hm?" you grabbed the head, dragging it down to your entrance.

when francis felt the warmth of your cunt against his cock, he was almost 100% sure his loyalty would be thrown out the window. "j-just the, hngh..."

he felt himself thrust into your wet, soppy cunt almost too quickly, completely devoid of reason. he was nestled so deeply into your core, allowing you to adjust to his massive length.

"i-i'm suhh...sorry, i said just the tip, but i...mnghh..." he could barely get a word out, too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking his cock in. "y-you feel so, so good. it's so good, so..."

he was chanting it like a prayer, babbling whatever came to find. "francis, can you move?" you bluntly asked, guiding his hands to your waist.

almost like a switch, he thrusted into you wildly. his cock was reaching parts that you weren't even sure were possible to reach, especially with your husband's tiny, flimsy cock.

"am i making you f-feel good?" he asked, his lips just barely ghosting over yours. you felt his breath brushing against your face, the neediness evident on his face.

you nod, pressing a kiss on his lips. you moaned against his lips, feeling so full of him. "p-please say it. please say i'm making you feel good, ngh," he pleaded, pressing kisses against your neck.

your eyes were nearly rolling back, the entire galaxy filling your line of sight. "you make me feel so good, francis," you squealed when he hit a specific spot in you.

satisfied with your answer, his pace sped up. he was entirely bottomed out in your cunt, his pelvis pressing against yours.

you felt yourself getting close when his thumb trailed down to your pelvis to roll it against your weeping clit.

the squelches from him fucking you were so vulgar, it made you remember the sounds you heard when he fucked his wife. and finally you were living in the dream you so desperately wanted to come true.

"'m so, so close. m-might cum," you groaned, throwing your head back against the mattress.

he shook his head, feeling his hips stutter. "no, no. wait for me please. wanna cum together, hm?" he panted, mouth filled with saliva. he had grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly.

you could feel the coolness of his wedding ring against your fingers, making yourself get closer. you, a married woman, were fucking married man. the dirtiness of it all excited you so much.

here he was, the man you've been masturbating to for weeks, begging you to cum at the same time. "t-together, right?" he begged, his high coming so, so soon.

his thrusts were getting sloppy and your cunt was getting tighter. you nodded, his lips crashing onto yours, kissing you until you came together.

his cum spilled so deeply into your cunt, filling you generously. "you're so beautiful," he sighed, wiping the sweat soaked strands of hair off your forehead.

he just stayed inside of you for a few minutes, admiring you.

he'd tend to you right after. taking a bath with you, drying your hair for you, cooking you a meal. he did all the things you wished your husband would do for you.

and when it was finally time for him to leave, you'd be in bed sleepily, arms wrapped around his torso, head leaned against his chest. "don't leave," you whined.

he didn't want his wife to question why he came home so late, so staying the night was out of the question. "i'll be back again, okay?" he smoothed out your hair, patting your head.

"i'll be back here tomorrow same time with another delivery, hm?" he smiled, hugging you tightly. you were so cute when you were clingy and nearly asleep.

"i'll tip you again," you yawned, feeling your eyelids get heavier with every blink.

he placed you onto the bed, tucking you in well. he looked at you once more, brushing your hair out of your face. "sweet dreams," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you smiled as you drifted off to sleep, knowing he'd be there same time again tomorrow.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #tnmn #tnmn milkman #milkman #that #that's not my neighbour #that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #x reader #ncrescent asks

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gender-euphowrya · 2 years

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i’ve started reducing sugar in my diet and my palate is finally getting used to it Yes

#i used to take 3 sugar cubes in my coffee now i just use a drizzle of honey #the first few times i had it that way i was all :( bidder and sad #now i’m like Yes this is acceptable. perhaps one might even say yummy #thank fuck i really didn’t want this to be a fucking chore to me #all because my dumbass liver has decided to act up #what do i even need you for #oooh look at me i’m an organ i’m inside you and you can’t eat stuff you like or i’ll explode teehee!!!#don’t you have like a hobby or something lil mx liv #stop bullying me

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oncasette · 2 months

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FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

OK LAST ONE I PROMISE. but you know I had to send in a theseus request so … theseus + "You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!" teehee 😋

'𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗡 (𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢)

theseus scamander x fem!reader

summary: 1.7k

“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.

or the one where theseus can't stand your secretary.

warnings: none that i can think of, semi-possessive theseus?

masterlist

He was just your secretary. That’s what you keep telling yourself. And Theseus. All he does is your filing and allow people entry into your office. And bring you your morning coffee without you needing to ask for it, with the exact amount of cream and sugar you take without you ever having told him in the past.

Of course, this was just him being excellent at his job, it was why you’d kept him on for so long. There was a quick turnover rate for secretaries at the ministry. A year or two, at most, before they were either fired by their respective bosses or they left to pursue a field they were actually passionate about. But not Richard. No, you’d been working with Richard for the better part of five years. Long before you’d ever met your now boyfriend–if you could even call him that, only having been on a dozen or so dates at this point. Not that the question hadn’t been on the tip of his tongue since the first time you batted your eyelashes at him.

That didn’t stop Theseus from clenching his jaw every morning when he stopped by to say hello only to find your secretary to have abandoned his post outside your office in favor of holing up in your loveseat and carrying on with whatever annoyingly dull topic of conversation he’d chosen to occupy your time with. It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes at the way his hand lingered over yours as he dropped off the accounts you needed that afternoon during your lunch break, little more than a glance cast askew at him as he sat beside you. It didn’t stop him from biting his tongue so hard it bled each time you brought Richard up in the evenings when he walked you out of the building.

No, it didn’t matter how long you’d worked with the man. Theseus knew a crush when he saw one.

“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been tense all day,” you say, gently placing a hand onto his shoulder. He’d been sitting in your office for a little over an hour, his work day having already drawn to a close but you’d had to finish up a last minute assignment your boss had thrown on your desk fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave. Theseus hadn’t minded waiting.

“Nothing,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Richard had been especially irritating that day. He’d barely had five minutes alone with you before you’d forced your secretary to go home once the clock hit six.

“It’s nothing, lovely. Promise,” he says. At the very least, having this time with you was beginning to dull the headache that had formed earlier in the day. He thinks it started when Richard had once again waltzed into your office during your lunch hour with the hopes of taking you out to the bakery a couple blocks away.

“Okay,” you drawl, eyebrows drawn together.

It’s then that Theseus notices the parchment stuck to your desk lamp. It was a charmed doodle, one that poorly illustrated a man with smoke shooting out of his ears sitting at a desk played on a loop. To keep you company while you work - Rich. Of course.

“You ready?” you ask, shuffling around documents and files on your desk to deal with on Monday when you return before grabbing your bag off the ground and slipping your coat on. You circle around the furniture in your office to stand in front of Theseus. He ran a firm hand across his brow bone as he stood to meet you. He leans forward to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth as he nods.

It’s hard to ignore how stiff he’s become.

“Are we still good for dinner at yours tonight?” you ask.

“Of course,” he hums. He wasn’t going to let this ruin the one of the few evenings a week he got to spend with you. Or, at least, he was going to try to not let it ruin it.

Once he was sure you’d both collected the remainders of your belongings, he takes your hand in his to apparate the two of you to his flat. Since you weren’t going back to your place, he didn’t feel the need to walk the two of you all the way across the ministry just to disapparate from there. He only did that to spend a couple extra minutes with you, anyway.

It’s only the second time you’ve been to his place, but the short wave of nausea prevents you from feeling too overwhelmingly nervous about it. You set your bag beside the door before you move to the kitchen to sit and let the urge to vomit begin to dissipate. Theseus smooths a palm over down your arm as he slides up behind you.

He leans down to whisper in your ear. His nose brushes against your cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe a penny…” you trail off.

“A penny?” he huffs amused.

“For your thoughts,” you say.

“I told you it was nothing.”

“Darling, I know something’s wrong. I want to help if I can,” you say, tilting your head back enough to look at his face. He bends again to kiss your forehead. It’s tender, sweet. Nearly domestic.

“It’s just work stress, I guess,” he says. He wasn’t technically lying.

“I’m sorry,” you hum, bringing a hand up to smooth across his cheek for a second. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you get some of it off your chest.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you, love,” he says as he begins to move away from your chair. He meanders around the small kitchen as he starts to gather the things he needs to cook dinner. You hardly notice as he charms the cutting board to dice vegetables for him.

“It wouldn’t be a burden. Richie’s always telling me about the kinds of things that bother him at the office,” you say. Theseus’ jaw clenches. With his suit coat already having been slung across the couch in the living room, he’s quick to roll his button-down sleeves up to his elbows.

“Fucking Richard,” he mutters. It’s so quiet you almost miss it. Your brows raise. He runs a palm over his jaw, resisting the urge to bite down on one of his fingers.

“This is about him?”

“What?” he asks as he turns away from you to grab noodles from his pantry. The first time he’d asked about Richard had been harmless. A one-off question at the end of your evening when he’d been walking you back to your flat. A question you’d answered simply. He’s just your secretary. Then he’d asked again. A second and a third time.

“This. Your… mood. It’s about him, isn’t it?” you ask. You’re attempting to sound understanding, but you know there’s an edge to your tone. He doesn’t elicit an answer. “I thought I told you he wasn’t anything to worry about. He works for me.”

“I know,” he grumbles.

“Then what’s this about, hm?” you ask, standing from your chair and moving into his space.

“It’s just.” He’s cracking, slightly. He hates that he’s allowed himself to get affected by something so trivial. “He’s always there.”

“You’ve got yourself in a fit because my secretary comes into my office during work hours?”

“It’s the way he is around you, you know? He’s always around, always touching or trying to touch. You should see the way he looks at you,” he huffs. The box in his hand drops onto the counter suddenly, his hands following as he pushes his weight against them.

“Thes-” you start.

“You think I like being like this? You think it’s something I want? To be so angry and aggravated about something that I can’t control? That you can’t control?” he asks. “Everytime he touches you I want to rip his fucking hands off.”

You step behind him, winding your arms around his middle until he’s stood straight again. His hands find yours and interweave between your fingers.

“It’s not you,” he sighs. “Well, I mean, it is you. I don’t see how there isn’t a single man left in the world not wrapped tight around your finger.”

You press a kiss between his collarbones. He relaxes into your hold.

“I don’t want Richard,” you say.

“I know.”

“I want you.”

“I want you, too, darling.”

“But I also want you to talk to me,” you say as you urge him to turn to face you with a tap of your fingers against his torso. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t say I haven’t noticed him being a little closer to me than some of the other secretaries have been with their bosses, because I have. So, I’ll talk to him. But, I need you to talk to me, too.”

His forehead falls forward until it’s pressed against yours.

You continue, “I need you to tell me when stuff like this bothers you. You can’t just be all angry at the world and do nothing about it and expect it all to change. Okay?”

“I can do that,” he hums.

“Good,” you nod.

“Good.”

“You also need to remember that I’m a grown-up and I can handle myself, too, right? Just because another man may or may not have his eyes on me doesn’t mean I’m going to go running off into the sunset with him,” you say. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest, his eyes crinkling with a soft smile at the sides.

“Alright,” he says.

“Now,” you say. “What’s for dinner?”

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #callum turner #callum turner x reader #harry potter #fantastic beasts and where to find them

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 15 days

Text

“flu season” - hotch stops by to check on you while you’re home sick (hotch x bau!gn!reader), 1.7k words

cw; mentions of canonical violence, icky sickies, and yearning teehee

———————

You have the flu.

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus.

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus, and you hate feeling helpless, but you can’t even walk to the bathroom and back without feeling dizzy.

There’s a waste basket by the bed, lined with a plastic grocery bag. There are four glasses of water, varying in stages of fullness, littered on the nightstand. Your blinds are open because yesterday you wanted to see the sun, but you were too exhausted later in the day to close them.

Your phone is ringing. You’re groggy, the whole world feeling hazy and heavy, as you lift it from the space in bed beside you and see a call from your boss. When you called Hotch two days ago and told him you were ill, he was incredibly patient with you. Don’t worry about work. Get some rest, he said. Check in so we know you’re okay. Let us know if you need anything.

You answer the phone on the last ring, and a hoarse, weak voice that is not yours exits your throat. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Hotch sounds relieved. Did he think you were dead or something? It’s only the stomach flu. He also never calls you by your first name, which only makes you concerned that something else is gruesomely wrong. “Did you see my calls?”

You put him on speaker and check your call history. Aaron Hotchner has called you four times in the past six hours. You missed every single one, having drifted in and out of consciousness all day long.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. Is everything okay?” You ask, thinking something must have happened to him or to one of your teammates. Why else would he be desperate to reach you when you’re home sick?

“Well, you tell me,” Hotch exhales, an incredulous chuckle lining his voice. The phone muffles the sound, but you know that if you heard it in person, it would sound symphonic. “I was just checking on you, Y/N. I know you’re new to the city.” You sit up a little in bed, as if he were in front of you. “How are you feeling?”

You run a clammy hand over your sweaty forehead. “Hot,” you blurt out.

“Excuse me?” Hotch laughs.

“Hot, like… like a fever. Like I’m running a…” you shake your head at yourself, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. “Sick. I feel sick, very sick.”

“What kind of sick?”

What kind of sick? Why would he ask you that? You lean back against the headboard and wonder if he’s trying to determine if you’re faking to get out of work, or if he’s genuinely concerned. You’ve only been with the BAU for a few months, but you feel like you’ve gotten to know everyone fairly well so far. You decide Hotch must just be genuinely concerned. You roll through your symptoms, and Hotchner clears his throat when you’re done speaking.

“Do you feel strong enough to get to your door?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Because I’m here. Outside your door.”

“What?”

Hotch lets out a breathy laugh, one that seems almost in disbelief of his own actions. “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave, but I thought you might need a hand. I’ve been sick and alone before. It’s not fun.”

You feel your heart swell a little as you recall what Emily has told you about Hotch. You get little snippets about him from Emily, and from what you understand, he and his ex-wife were painfully separated for a while before she was murdered. You wonder if he was ever stuck at home, ill, during that period of time.

Hotch says your surname. “Are you still there?”

“What? Yes. Yes! I’m sorry,” you huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The thought of planting your feet on the ground, however, has you already feeling nauseous. “I don’t, uh… I don’t think I can make it to the door, though,” you squeak. “There’s a spare key under the doormat. But I really look gross, Hotch. And I might be contagious. So, enter at your own risk.”

“I don’t mind, L/N. You keep a key under the - oh, yes, there it is,” you hear Hotch fumble to juggle the key and his phone, and after a moment of static - his hand over the microphone - he hangs up, and you hear the front door of your apartment creak open. “Y/N?” He calls out.

“In here,” you croak, scrambling under the covers and desperately brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes.

Hotch is standing in the doorway in an instant, still in his suit and tie. You glance at your phone and conclude he must have left work directly to come here. “How do you know where I live?” You mumble as he lifts a full grocery bag.

“Personnel file,” he shrugs. “How’s your fever?”

You notice he’s lingering in the doorway. He’s waiting to be invited in. “You don’t have to have a warrant,” you smile weakly and beckon him into your bedroom, a lame attempt at humor.

He exhales in amusement, and you see the smile on his face - light and mild, and you wonder, if you weren’t sick, would it have been a grin?

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hotch says as he steps slowly into the room, taking a cold bottle of Gatorade from the grocery bag and setting it on your nightstand. He starts gathering the cups of water into one arm.

“You don’t have to do that,” you protest, feeling embarrassed of your mess. “Hotch-“

“It’s Aaron, outside of work,” he corrects you, and you see a flash of his teeth. “And you didn’t answer my question. How’s your fever?”

You swallow. “High? I guess?” You say dumbly.

A warm hand is pressed against your forehead and you are once again very aware of how clammy it is. “When was the last time you took something?” He asks.

You check the time again, then do the math in your head. “Five hours ago.”

“Where’s your medicine?” He asked. You shift in the bed, to stand up, and Hotch - Aaron’s - hand is on your shoulder. “Stay in bed. I’ll get it. Where is it?”

“Bathroom cabinet,” you point to the bathroom. You want to protest further. You want to apologize for the mess, to ask him why he’s doing this, to ask him if he’d do this for anyone else. But you keep your mouth shut, instead rubbing the space between your brows as the inevitable headache kicks in.

Aaron’s quickly out of your bedroom. You hear him walk into the kitchen, a few cabinets open and shut, and then he’s in your bathroom, same thing, opening and closing a cabinet. He comes back to you with a few crackers on a plate, a fresh glass of water, and your flu medicine.

“So, let’s talk about why you think it’s a good idea to keep a spare key under the mat,” Aaron proposes as you take the medicine. You nearly choke on the water in your mouth, but manage to down it. His face gives him away - he’s not mad, not even disappointed, just smirky. Teasing and playful were not words you would use to describe Aaron Hotchner.

Until right now.

You open your mouth to speak, but Aaron cuts you off. “You spend your whole week working gory murders, kidnappings, terrorist threats. You know that the key under the mat is the oldest trick in the book. Why do you do it?” He asks, leaning against the wall beside your bed.

“You can sit, if you want?” You offer, pointing to the desk chair in the corner. “Your legs must be tired from hanging out up there on that high horse.”

Hotch just lets a low chuckle escape him as he rolls the desk chair over. He keeps a respectful distance from your bed, but still crosses his ankles and leans back, like he’s sat there a thousand times. Like he’s somehow comfortable. He looks at you expectantly, as if to say don’t make me ask again.

“Well,” you feel a bit sheepish, because he is right. Keeping a key under your doormat is pretty dumb. “I guess I figure, most people are smart enough to not do it, so the kidnappers and rapists would assume I would be smart enough, too, so they wouldn’t even look under the mat.”

Aaron’s expression is priceless, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “I’ll just give a spare to someone I trust, how about that?” You suggest, knowing intuitively that the lecture was only going to continue.

Aaron gives you a nod of approval, and you lean back against the headboard again, stifling a yawn. “I can go, if you want to rest some more?” he proffers, rising from his seat.

“You don’t have to,” you say quickly, uncontrollably. The words were locked and loaded in your throat before you could think twice. “I mean, I’m probably going to fall asleep soon, but I wouldn’t mind the company. For a little while.”

You wonder how visibly red your face is.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alive,” Aaron chuckles, his polite, subtle way of declining your invitation, of making sure boundaries are still intact. You know Hotchner is a rule-follower. You admire that about him. “I’ll let you get some rest,” his hand extends, as if to reach out to you. You wonder if he’s going to touch you. His hand retracts after a moment that seems to last for an eternity.

As Aaron walks towards the bedroom door, he turns around and smiles at you. It’s a real smile. It’s soft. You want to press it like a flower petal, between two book pages, and keep it in a jar on your shelf.

“I brought you some soup for when you feel up to eating. It’s in your refrigerator,” he says. He taps his hands against the door frame. “Feel better, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you.”

Aaron Hotchner leaves your apartment a minute later, and you fall asleep shortly after that. Your head is still pounding, and your stomach is twisted in knots, but it’s not from the nausea.

#basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch blurb #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #hotch fic #hotch fluff #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic

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coupleoffanfics · 4 months

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teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that I was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #batsis reader #yandere batfam #God damn you anon #you beautiful bastard #I'll clean this up later when I sleep #x reader #x batsis reader

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twola · 1 year

Note

Two words: messy blowjob.

Teehee, let’s go.

Also, s/o to @revolversandlace, who mentioned writing a possible 1k+ scene literally describing a blowjob, so obviously, I had to give it a try myself. 😉

Convalescence

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Feelings are realized as you nurse Arthur back to health after his run-in with the O’Driscolls. Actions, however, are a bit limited during his convalescence.

Everything hurts. From the searing pain in his shoulder to the overall ache of his muscles, this definitely ranks as one of the most painful experiences of his life.

Regards sent to Colm O’Driscoll, of course.

He opens his eyes and a shadowed figure slowly comes into focus, a small, feminine frame seated on a stool next to his cot.

It’s you, but your normally tressed hair hangs limply in a ponytail, your eyes bloodshot and puffy, and it was obvious that you’ve been crying as his vision clears up.

“Wh- why are you cryin’ there, sweetheart?” He hoarsely whispers, voice rough from disuse.

You rub at your eyes, but it is mostly in vain as you can’t stem the flow of tears tracking down your cheeks. “When y-you fell off your horse when you came back, I-I thought you were d-dyin’.”

Your voice cracks on the last word.

Arthur frowns, “Sweet girl, I ain’t worth them tears. Save ‘em for a good man.”

“You - you’re such a fool,” You grit out, teeth clenching, “You - you are a good man. The best of them, Arthur Morgan.”

“C’mon now, darlin’. Stop your lyin’.”

“I’m not lying.” You move to sit on the side of the cot, hovering over him, “Why can’t you see what a good man you are? Why are you so blind to it?”

He remains silent. Silly girl. You haven’t seen what he can do - what he does - to other men. The blood on his hands. You’d be far less likely to be praising him, far less likely to be…

…leaning in closer to him.

A pang sears through Arthur’s chest, sharp as a whip, when he realizes you aren’t pulling away from him.

“You’re by far the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Reckon you haven’t known many men then, little miss.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and in that moment, you lean completely over him and press your lips against his, a move he’s not completely surprised by.

His good arm, unburdened with the wound on his shoulder, winds around your shoulders as you press against his chest gently, still hovering so as not to put too much weight on him.

Arthur allows it all, from the first timid press of your lips on his to the far less timid pressing of your tongue, demanding entry into his mouth. He groans in response as he lets you in, and a mewl works its way up your throat.

It's only then, with you hovering inches above his chest, lips, and tongue working against his own, that he realizes that this is quickly turning into a predicament. Of course, it is, considering the view he’s gotten down the front of your blouse.

Someone, god, hopefully not you, stripped him of his bloody union suit, which probably did need to be burned, but failed to re-dress him. He was nude as the day he was born underneath the blankets, and it became increasingly clear as he felt his blood rushing toward his groin.

Of all the times to act like a damn teenage boy-

He cannot help the groan that wells up in him as you shift, the curve of your waist at the flare of your hip pressing against his own - pressing against his hardening member.

He internally curses when you slowly pull away.

But your eyes are lust-blown, a red blush settling on your cheeks.

“Darl-”

“Let me take care of you.” You say, slowly sitting up and reaching for the edge of the blanket with your small, thin fingers.

He wants to tell you to stop, that you don’t have to do this, that you don’t have to do anything, that he’s been smitten with you since you rode in half-starved and doe-eyed on the back of Davey’s horse all those months ago.

But silent he remains as you slowly draw the blanket down his body. Your nose crinkles as your lips turn downwards as inch by inch of his chest is revealed to you - bruises and lash marks and signs of the torture he received at Colm’s hand.

“Oh, Arthur.” You sigh sadly, eyes watering over again.

“ ‘m gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just a little uglier than usual.” He tries to lighten the mood with self-depreciation, but the deepening of your frown tells him that’s not working. You blink the tears collecting away and continue to pull the blanket downward, revealing his navel and the trail of dark, wiry hair leading downwards.

He sucks in a breath as the collecting fabric brushes against his ramrod-hard cock.

Finally, finally, your hand slowly pulls the blanket over his hips, first over the curls at the bottom of his pelvis, to expose his cock, leaking from the tip and laying heavily over his thigh.

You look back at him, and he’s wide-eyed, biting his lower lip, looking down at you hovering over his hips. You can see his chest expanding with his breathing, speeding up as he stares at you.

You lean down and Arthur’s good arm swings over his head to block his vision, because if he sees this, he’s sure to make embarrassing noises loud enough for the whole damn camp to hear.

He feels your small hand wrap around his cock, and he bites his lip not to make a sound as you gently pull it upright.

But he is not able to stifle the noise he makes when his cock is enveloped in something wet and warm - his arm flies upward and he cranes his head to watch you take him into your mouth. An embarrassingly needy whine escapes his mouth, but that’s better than the shout he wants to let out as you suck gently at the head, your tongue pressing against the weeping slit of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.”

You let go of the head of his cock with a pop, and he bucks up slightly, as if to follow your warmth as you look up at him.

“You alright? Need me to stop?” You ask, one hand still wrapped around his length.

“Oh, darlin’, please, please don’t ask me that.” His forearm slides across his eyes again as his other hand.

“So you want me to keep goin’?”

“Jesus fuck, of course.” He replies incredulously, flabbergasted that you could doubt this felt amazing.

You smile for a moment before turning back to his length, enveloping him once again in the velvet warmth of your mouth. His head hits the pillow as he loudly sucks in a breath.

You slowly, deliberately, work your way down his length, bobbing up and down, sucking on his skin gently as you take more and more of him into your mouth.

It feels like years you’re doing this, inch by inch of velvety skin warmed by your wet cavern.

Finally, you gag slightly as your nose touches the chestnut curls at the base of his cock, saliva dripping down from your lips and slowly running down toward his heavy, full testicles, and he has to actively clench the sides of the cot to stop himself from bucking upward.

“Oh, oh god, woman.” He mutters as you slide back up, fingers once again grasping the base of his length as you suck in a breath, looking up at him with a hint of a smile, your lips and chin shimmering with your spittle. His cock shines against the oil lamp’s yellowed light, absolutely dripping wet from your mouth.

You lean back down again, but instead of taking his length into your mouth, you run your tongue down its side, all the way down where you nuzzle against the globes at the base of his cock, gently sucking one into your mouth. He whines, whines, this gunslinger, this outlaw, this hardened mountain of muscle beneath you. All being torn apart as you suckle on him.

After several moments, you pull back, and he’s panting, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat developing over his clavicles, and the bandages wrapped tightly across his pectorals and shoulder.

Your thumb presses gently on the underside of his cock, and he closes his eyes and lets out a low, long moan. You smile, rubbing at his hip affectionately.

“Christ alive, woman, you’re killin’ me.”

“Ain’t done yet, Arthur.”

And with that, you resume, leaning down and retaking him, sucking harder than you have before, leaving him squirming beneath you.

You suck, and bob, you squeeze his balls and rub at his thighs. Lord almighty, he must have died at Colm’s hand - this had to be heaven.

The burning in his gut reaches a fever pitch, and he knows he’s not long to last.

He tries to sit up, but can’t with his shoulder bound, and finds that he just has to make enough noise to tell you to get off of him.

“Darl- darlin’, I’m gonna come- you- you need to move-”

His sentence goes unfinished as you look up at him, mouth full of his cock, and slowly, deliberately, slide all the way down, saliva dribbling out of your mouth again as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat.

Arthur’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and he audibly swallows before his head hits the pillow once again. You slide up and down, sucking, tongue working around his length, the gentle suction of your mouth causing him to whimper.

He grunts, hands clenched around the wooden sides of the cot, hips moving despite his attempts not to. He is completely at your mercy - each lick and suck of his cock sends him further down that road of unabashed pleasure.

“Sweet- oh god, oh - fuck - I’m -” Arthur cannot finish his sentence before he trails off into a groan, his hips bucking up as you press down, and he shoots his spend down your throat, you pull back, gagging slightly, and as you sit up, Arthur can barely believe his eyes as he watches a dribble of his white, milky spend drip from the corner of your mouth. Christ, it makes him want to come again.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, clearing your throat, and pull the blanket up to Arthur’s chest once again, where he just looks at you, stupefied.

You cock an eyebrow at him as you slide up the side of the cot, sitting next to his chest. “You alright? That wasn-” You frown, “God, I hope that wasn’t bad.”

Arthur’s good hand grabs the collar of your shirt and yanks you down, where he presses his mouth to yours desperately, not caring at all that he can taste the bitter tang of himself on your tongue. You draw away after a moment, and Arthur tucks a strand of your hair that escaped its braid behind your ear.

“Woman, you’re the only one takin’ care of me from now on.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead smut #tumblr prompt #rdr #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan rdr2 #voluptatem

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