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bits-and-babs · 11 months

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i need breeding kink!konig before i cryy also w small reader eeee

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃, 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃

pairing : könig x f!reader ('perle')

synopsis : könig snaps after a particularly hard mission, unable to hold back his desire much longer.

warnings : [ 1k words ] Emotional distress, unprotected pinv sex, utterly pathetic könig, breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation, cum eating, reference to oral (f receiving). könig is a babbling mess.

notes: this is pure filth. barely any mention of small reader because i like to be inclusive <33

König’s combat boots drag across the floorboards of your shared apartment, depositing clumps of dried Spanish mud across the oak with each weary trudge of his feet. Your boyfriend carries his body over the house threshold like a wounded hound, his tail between his legs and eyelids still splotched with patchy grease paint. König is prideful, usually holding his gigantic frame with a regal posture to match his name– you’ve never seen him so crippled by what he’d promised would be a straightforward mission, in and out.

You open your mouth to ask, to say his name, to offer your support, noting the way König didn’t take his shoes off at the door like he always did. He doesn’t let you, his prodigious forearms encircling your waist with a vice-like grip.

“Just give me this, Perle. I need nothing else,” he promises you, his accent delicate to your ears when he whispers his plea into your hair. Clutching him tight, you liberate the breath you’d held hostage between the bars of your ribcage since König left. You’d been fearful, as always, that the oxygen in your lungs would serve a life sentence, but when your lungs expand again, aching at the edges, you smell his exertion, the earthiness of the mud that clung to his body, the gunpowder he’d expended while taking lives. He’s home.

“König,” you whisper to him, scared a louder decibel would rip apart the fragile foundations that kept the hefty Austrian upright. He shakes his head in response, his palms pawing at your hips, squeezing at the flesh he finds with overwrought neediness.

“Please, Perle,” he murmured, his voice cracking beneath the tide of his emotional turmoil, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass to pull your body closer, “I just need you. Need you close- need to be in you.”

It’s jarring, the distress you feel roiling inside the tense muscles of his back that you skirt your palm over not matching the dripping desire that coated his tongue. When you lean back in his grip, attempting to catch a glimpse of your lover’s eyes, he pulls you impossibly closer. The thread-worn material of his battle-tested uniform is soft against your skin, but the firmness of his cock against you is undeniable.

“Anything,” you whisper, and it’s as though you’ve let the hounds loose. König launches you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeals of shock, and hurries towards the bedroom with absurdly broad strides.

☆ ☆ ☆

He chokes out a string of unintelligible German curse words when he finally bottoms out inside of you. König’s hands, webbed with silver scars that spanned across his knuckles, grasp at your hips and angle them skyward, his thighs flexing as he attempts to keep still for a moment.

“Hahh-ah- Still, Schatzi, be still,” he urges you brokenly. You wail, winded by the sensation of his preposterously thick cock spearing your cunt. It lays deep inside you, nudging at your cervix when it twitches. “S-Still-“

Statuesque, you haven’t moved a nanometre. It’s König, his face buried deep into the crook of your neck, mindlessly pushing his hips deeper into you with shallow thrusts. They’re barely there, slight and feeble, as he dramatically gasps out each time the sensitive tip of his dick brushes your cervix.

“Aha-Haaa, please, please, Perle,” he keens, his rumbling voice strained by his frantic desire. His fingertip pushes into the swollen nub of your clit, and it draws dangerously lazy circles over the sparking nerves there. You sob his name weakly, almost missing his rambled plea. “So tight- your cunt is so tiny for me, Perle. Ughh-fuck- let me cum in it? L-Let me fill it up, watch it spill out of you-“

Your back arches from the mattress as he withdraws his hips slightly, only to plunge them deeper. It’s ludicrous, you think, the way your body gives way to his ridiculous intrusion, but your toes curl with delight, and König wails out another string of profanity.

“Hah-sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbles, his cock rocking in and out of you but never once entirely withdrawing from your heat, “I just need to fill this cunt, Perle. Need to see it leak– See you swollen with our child– fuck!”

König spits a broken moan when your hips arch to meet his thrusts. Your clit brushes his pubic bone with each joining of your hips, hurtling you towards orgasm and tightening your walls with bliss.

“So tight, so fu-huhhking tight, Perle– Fuck!” König gasps, his hips stuttering as he braces for your answer.

“Yes,” you whine, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm threatens to crash through you in a tidal wave, “Please, König, please fucking fil–“

König cuts off your appeal with a hoarse cry of your name, his whole body trembling with the force of his orgasm as his cock spurts thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your cunt. The warmth of the blooming pressure inside you sparks a blissful throb, your nails sinking into König’s forearms as it detonates inside you. You hear him through the mind-blowing buzz, wailing and sobbing about how you’re milking him, how it’s dripping from your cunt and into the bedsheets.

It’s hazy when the overwhelming euphoria floats down, König still hunched over your body and thrusting inside of you helplessly. His jaw hangs loose, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of agonising pain and paradisical ecstasy as he fucks his cum deeper into you.

“Hahah-Ahhh fuck, c-creaming all o-ohhhver my cock-“he slurs, his removing his oversensitive cock with a pathetic sob. His fingers sink into your cunt almost instantly, ignoring the curl of your toes and the arch of your back to stuff the dribbling cum back inside of your fluttering pussy.

“Need it to take, Perle,” König garbles, his eyelids heavy as he sinks low to the mattress to swipe up the remaining excess with his tongue. He mumbles around your pussy as he laps up his cum from its glistening lips, “Jus’ lift your hips, Schatz. Sit them on my face; I want to taste us–“

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anchoeritic · 2 years

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「 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: stepdad!sam x fem!reader x stepdad’sbestfriend!bucky

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ only // minors dni // nsfw content, dark!fic, cnc kink (dubcon/non-con), step-cest, angry/possessive sam eek(he has reasoning shhh), daddy kink, spit kink, overstimulation, ddlg dynamics, slight bondage, oral (male receiving), deepthroating, choking kink, face slapping, manipulation, degradation kink, anal & vaginal fingering, ass play, dacryphilia(crying kink), hair pulling kink, the pet name ‘peach’, voyeurism kink, them basically fighting over you, squirting. if you are upset/easily triggered by any of these warnings, go ahead and click off.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "your body is mine to use, mine to control," pressing a soft kiss to your wet cheek "mine to share."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a repost of one of my older dark fanfics, but do feel free to send in new ideas for future fics! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated, thank you. <3

a breathy chuckle left from his lips as his gaze moved back to your trembling body. your legs were still shaking from the previous orgasm, wrists all scratched up from the many harsh attempts at trying to escape from him.

the light in your eyes no longer showing, replaced with the shade of lust; dark red. your pupils were wider than usual, it was like you were under some spell. his spell.

"little girl, you knew the consequences," placing a finger under your chin "yet you still tried to fuckin' play with me." he ended the sentence off angrily, jerking your face the other way.

you broke his rules again. it wasn't entirely your fault. you couldn't help but feel something whenever your stepfather's friend came by.

he was tall, had broad shoulders, patchy face with the littlest bit of fuzz around his rosy lips. the most intimidating eyes; if he looked long enough, you swore it would pierce through you.

his presence was enough to send chills down your spine. every time his truck drove up to your driveway, your thighs would rub together, the place between your legs starting to ache out of desperation. neediness.

it was wrong to feel something towards your stepfather's best friend. your daddy's pal from work. to imagine his face between your thighs, to wonder how your fingers would feel tangled up in his hair.

to feel your pussy throb whenever he called you 'sweetheart', imagining him balls deep inside your cunt, thrusting into you at an intimate pace.

to hear his praises, to listen to him call you his good girl after you creamed all over his cock.

to taste him.

if it was so wrong, then why did it feel so good?

"you can never keep your legs shut, can you?" he growled, laying a light smack against your cheek. "thought you were daddy's girl," cupping your jaw roughly, bringing your face right in front of his "seems like you're not daddy's at all after all, huh?"

"just a little slut who can't follow rules." you whimpered, starting to tear up at the increase in volume in his voice.

you had him angry. you got him furious this time.

"i-i'm sorry, daddy!" you babbled out. "didn't mean to, didn't mean to!"

he laughed, tilting his head back a little as an evil grin spread across his lips. it wasn't usual that you were a brat, especially towards your daddy. and he knew that, he knew his little girl. but today, you were in for a ride.

the grip on your jaw tightened. "didn't mean to? is that your excuse?" his foot tapped your pussy slowly, making your legs open up. a quiet cry fell from your throat as the tip of his leather shoe went on to assault your overstimulated clit.

"you think you can trick me, little girl?" he tested you, chuckling at the thought of you trying to lie to him.

you shook your head quickly in response, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill out at any given moment. "never-- never, daddy!"

sam smiled darkly, pulling your face impossibly closer, his warm breath fanning over your face.

"listen here, girl--" you whined, trying to get out of his grip. "stop fucking moving!" he spat. the hand around your jaw was no longer there, but slid down to your throat, choking you aggressively.

"you fucking listen to me right now, i'm not going along with your stupid attitude anymore." sam mumbled through his clenched teeth. "i make the rules here, i rule over you," practically spitting on you now "you are my puppet. you are for my use. you go under my rules, girl."

his foot tapped your bare cunt again, causing your body to jolt up out of sensitivity. "understand?"

you nodded your head, obeying him. "just daddy's silly little puppet." you repeated, blinking.

your glassy eyes broke into shards, the hot tears falling down the palettes of your cheeks. his puppet. he hummed in response, confirming.

"your body is mine to use, mine to control," pressing a soft kiss to your wet cheek "mine to share."

share? you thought, confused. not once had he brought up the conversation of another person in your relationship. the thought of someone else fucking your his pussy always got him worked up and angry. so what was he talking about?

who was he talking about?

the door swung open, a tall figure coming into your view. broad shoulders, tall, leather gloves, strong jaw structure.

"hello again, peach" the voice called out, walking closer towards you two. "don't tell me you already forgot about me."

it was your stepfather's best friend; bucky barnes.

bucky laughed in amusement, the sight of you all teary-eyed making him pity you. "had you crying for more a few days ago, peach"

"i'm sure you remember."

sam cackled, removing his hand from your throat, letting you fall forward. “oh, i’m sure she does” licking his lips “don’t you, peach?” he mocked, shaking his head at you.

“i-i—“ you stuttered, looking up at bucky with widened eyes.

“shall we take a trip down memory lane, sweetness?” bucky offered, swiping his thumb over your cupid’s bow gently. you hummed, biting the insides of your cheeks. “hm, good.”

his thumb fell down to the slit of your lips, the tip of the finger sliding between the pair. he leaned down beside you, lips beside your ear. “show him how you scream for me, peach”

“i know you want me. you crave me. show him how much you need me.”

a bright smile spread across your lips as you heard his words fall from within. you sure did want him, and you definitely craved him. but how much were you willing to risk for your stepdad’s work pal?

the zipper on his pants flew down in an instant, bucky being too impatient to wait for your confirmation. he wanted to be inside you already. whether it was down your throat or sunk in your tight cunt; he was just as desperate as you were for him.

your touch was different. you were on the gentler side, soft side really. you weren’t like the other older girls he usually slept around with. you were warm, you had something within you that made him want more. was it the risk? the thrill?

both? one may never know.

pumping himself in front of you, he moaned at the sight of you on your knees for him. it was a scene he couldn’t take off his mind. it was forever engraved inside his little box of thoughts. dirty thoughts.

bucky was fucking his best friend’s stepdaughter. how much more dirty can this be? your hands were tied up behind your back, you had tears streaming down your face, he walked in on you getting put in place by sam, how much dirtier can this be?

“open up, darlin’,” he instructed, tapping his tip against the heart of your lips. “promise it’ll fit, don’t you worry, peach.”

“mmm..” you opened your mouth, letting his cock fill your throat entirely.

bucky groaned, throwing his head back. “see, you’re doing so good” rocking his hips to meet your bobs “just like how i remember; so damn perfect.”

your pussy throbbed at the praise, he knew what his words did to you, what the pet name did. your panties dampened, the wetness between your legs increasing.

he placed his hands on the top of your head, pushing you down. your eyes stinging with tears as you took him deeper down your throat, the bulge of his cock starting to show. saliva dripped from the sides of your mouth, spilling everywhere on the floor.

“peach, you really are my cockslut, aren’t you? you love taking my cock down your throat, don’t you?”

sam scoffed from behind, looking away from the two of you. jealous? yes. but who’s fault was that? he was willing to share you and your body, he’s the only one to blame. guess "mine to share." wasn’t an honest statement after all, huh?

“fuck, i’m about to cum.” you began to bob your head faster, trying to quicken up his climax, only for him to pull his hips away from you.

the fingers that were tangled in your hair pulled you backwards unexpectedly, causing you to start coughing from the sudden wind of air shooting throughout your air ways.

“as much as i’d love to cum in your mouth,” cupping your cheeks “i’d rather cum in that pretty pussy of yours, peach.”

bucky smirked, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. “gotta get you ready for me first, okay, peach?”

you giggled, kissing him back. “mhm..”

he laid you on your back softly, spreading your legs open with his palms. sam walked closer to you, crouching down beside your sprawled out body.

sam started “isn’t it odd that you call her peach yet love to play with her pussy, barnes” slapping the inside of your thigh.

“shut it, sam.” he grumbled, swatting his hand away from you.

sam raised his eyebrow, placing his hand back on your thigh. “remember who’s she is, buck.”

he ignored him, running his metal hand down your sex. his fingers gathered all the wetness around your cunt, using it as easier access to your holes. bucky’s finger circled around your clit in figure 8’s, smiling evilly as he felt your body spasm.

your chest heaved up and down heavily, flashes of red coming into your view. “b-bucky, fuck, bucky…” you cried, hoisting your hips up.

he dipping his cold fingers into you, sinking them deep between your velvet walls. he pumped his fingers into you at a pleasurable pace, keeping the rhythm slow and deep.

“cry for me, peach. fuckin’ sob for me.” he whispered, curling his fingers inside of you, making your orgasm impossible to avoid.

he was really stretching you out this time. preparing you, as he calls it. making sure you’re tight enough, ready enough for him.

“‘m gonna cum, i-i’m gonna cum!” you chanted, rolling your eyes back.

“cum for me. cum all over my fingers.”

your orgasm goes by quicker than expected, the curl of his fingers tipping you over the edge. a wave of pleasure ran over you, sending violent chills all throughout your body.

a broken cry escaped from your lips, your eyes seeing starry skies. blanks of white and black, tiny sparkles taking over your sight.

he watched in satisfaction as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. your thighs trembled, attempting to close shut on his arm. fuck, you were a work of art.

the face of an innocent angel, body of the dirtiest sinner, you were practically made to take him. to take both of them. your beautiful lips wrapping around his cock perfectly, the pretty sound of your moans were like music to his ears.

the soft jiggle of your breasts when he would thrust his fingers into you, the way your lips parted when you were about to cum.

they were obsessed with you.

sam snickered, running his hand down your thigh, pushing them apart. “nuh-uh - we’re not done, little one.” smirking.

“open up again, baby.”

you obeyed, spreading your trembling legs apart slowly. if it wasn’t for the support of bucky’s hand on your ankle guiding you, your leg would’ve been down on the ground already.

“she has such a tight pussy, doesn’t she?” sam asked bucky, pressing a kiss to your knee.

bucky nodded, discreetly licking his lips. “the tightest.” making your cheeks heat up.

sam’s hand slid down the inside of your thigh, his fingers brushing over your used cunt. “tightest pussy, hm?”

“let’s see how tight that fuckin’ ass is then.”

your eyes widened, “but daddy, i can’t—“ his other hand came at your throat for the second time, rougher than it was before. squeezing the sides of your neck, he had you looking back up at him with glossy eyes.

“you can, and you will.” he growled. “remember who fucking owns this body, little one.”

gulping, you nodded your head once again, convincing him to drop his hand from your neck. “s-sorry, daddy.”

his fingers circled over your second - most forbidden hole yet, using your previous orgasm as lube, and spreading it around.

with a quivering lip, you moved your gaze back onto bucky, looking at him with scared eyes. he grinned softly back at you, placing his hand on your cheek, starting to caress it.

he was trying to comfort you. “shh… you’re going to love it, peach. i promise.” you understood, blinking your eyes. “you promise, buck?” whispering; voice coming out a little exhausted

“i promise, my peach.” his thumb smoothed over the top of your cheek sweetly.

it was now sam’s turn to pull down his zipper.his dress pants fell down to his ankles as he loosened the belt that held it together, pulling the end of the leather out from the metal loop. he folded his belt, holding onto it with one hand.

"peach, peach, peach, huh?" sam mocked again out of jealousy, shaking his head. "keep that shit to yourself, barnes. you're nothing compared to me."

his finger sunk into your tightest hole, stretching you out in the slowest way possible. the feeling was foreign to you, you had never experienced anything like this. getting fucked in the ass was always a dream of yours, but you were never brave enough to ask, let alone, try it at all.

he wiggled the tip of his finger, moving it in and out. "daddy," you gasped, raising your head up high to try to see the way his digit disappeared into your ass. "i-it feels so good..."

sam raised an eyebrow "who's making you feel this good, baby?"

"you, daddy." you breathlessly confessed.

bucky clenched his jaw, kissing his teeth. "don't you get it, barnes? i'm the one she runs back to every night." anger rose in both the men; the pace of sam's fingering starting to quicken up, bucky tightening his fist.

"you know the way to her heart, but you'll never know the way to her limit like i do."

"you got her to break my rules, but you'll never get her to obey you like she does with me. i started with her," your cries getting louder, the pain of the stretch turning into pure pleasure "and i will fuckin' end with her."

"shut the fuck up, sam." bucky snarled back, slipping his hand down to your pussy. the pad of his finger came in contact with the sensitive nub of your clit, brushing over it gently.

your body shook, legs trembling; struggling to stay up any longer. "i can't- too much!"

"or what?" sam challenged bucky, scoffing "she's my little girl."

bucky pinched your clit, "your little girl? you can barely keep your "little girl" under control around me" causing you to squeal "she can't help but always spread her damn legs, wilson."

another orgasm was building up inside you, your stomach bubbling. the pleasure was so hard to try to ignore. bucky playing with your clit, sam fucking you in your ass; it felt too good, you couldn't hold it any longer.

"daddy- bucky!" you called out, trying to shut your legs together, only for them to each push a thigh down with their free hands, pinning your knees beside your head.

"when did i say you can fuckin' talk, little one?" sam shot at you "the adults are talking, peach." bucky quickly backed him up.

"b-but--"

"no but's. stay quiet." sam ordered, bucky smacking your cunt lightly causing your body to jolt.

the more he threw you around, the more they used you, the more you felt. the pain, the pleasure, the thrill, the bliss. you felt it all, it had your insides churning.

you were just a silly little puppet. their toy. they were fighting over you. your body. like you were the last one on the shelf.

letting out a loud wail, another orgasm crashed on you; the most powerful one yet. you were shaking violently, your thighs vibrating. you swore you felt your soul getting ripped right out of you.

"no more, no more!" sam and bucky's attention got back on you, the sight in front of them causing their pants to grow tighter, their cocks stirring in desperation.

you were cumming hard. squirting. you had tears streaming down your cheeks, fluid squirting from your pussy. you were a sight for sore eyes.

"daddy!" you whined once more, arching your back off the floor. "good, too good!"

bucky licked his lips, swatting your clit faster. he knew what he was doing to you. you knew what he was doing to you. he wanted more.

sam's eyes darkened, a smile spreading on his lips in amazement.

"c'mon, peach, i know you got a little more in you."

your eyes stung, "no, no!" only making him go faster. "one more for us, baby." sam spoke.

"i know you can do it, my sweet girl."

a broken sob fell from your lips, the last one of the night(or so you thought). you were cumming hard again, the immense amount of pleasure not being able to stop your body, only encouraging it to go harder.

you were out of breath, numb. you couldn't feel your throat anymore; your screams ruining your vocal cords. your thighs wouldn't stop shaking, it was like the pleasure wouldn't stop. it was like torture in the most pleasing way.

"there ya go, peach. so good for me." bucky praised.

you were all over their clothes, your fluids coating the entirety of bucky and sam's hand. "p-please no more." you hiccuped.

the two men sent each other a side-eye, the evil spark in their eyes causing them both to smirk down at you.

"who said we were done with you?"

"i-i just-" you started, interrupted by sam. "i make the rules here, sweetheart. don't get it twisted."

"my body, my pussy," he leaned down, coming face to face with you.

"my puppet to use."

#bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #sam wilson smut #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #dark fiction #dark fic #dark!sam #dark!bucky x reader #stepdad!sam #dbf!bucky

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mangoharvest · 2 years

Text

Worn down (slight Yandere! Azul x GNReader)

idk what to call this. A drabble maybe? Just something I thought of today. Sorry it’s a little unorganized.

cw Azul is yandere but tame

word count: 721

not proofread

“Azul, come here.”

“In a moment, my love.”

“Azul.” The sound of scribbling paused. Azul gulped, knowing he was testing your patience. He looked up warily.

You stared back from one of the lounge’s couches, a disapproving pout adorning your face. Your chilly gaze sent a shiver down the man’s spine. Shit.

“Azul,” you started, “I won't repeat myself.”

Azul was immediately on his feet, not even bothering to push in his chair before making his way to you. He collapsed to his knees, lip trembling as he attempted to give you a suave smile.

“I’m sorry, Angelfish,” He murmured, gently resting his head on your lap, “I’ve just been so busy lately.”

Your expression changes to that of a fond smile. Of course, you knew that. Azul was nothing if not obsessive. He tended to cling to your side and bask in your attention. Even now, as you brought one hand to gently brush through his hair, you could see his tension visibly melt away.

Though you rarely needed to be stern with a man who constantly threw himself at your feet, you also knew that the only thing that could compete with his love for you was his intense work ethic.

You brought your other hand to his face, gently caressing under his eye. “You haven’t been sleeping…” Of course he hadn’t, though the bags under his eyes weren’t your biggest indicator. You had been able to see some of your non Octavinelle friends not once, but multiple times in the past week without so much as a whine from your dear boyfriend. While it was nice, it also served as an indicator that sooner or later, he would probably snap.

“...Sorry…” He mutters, eyes fluttering shut as he nestles into your touch. Your hand moves to gently lift his chin, making him meet your eyes again.

“Azul,” You lean in, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another. Azul studied your face, looking for a sign. Waiting for the terms and conditions of your affection. Instead, he could only find gentle adoration. Your expression was kind, and your touch soft. You radiated an unmatched warmth that always made him feel so unsure of himself. The gentle curve of your lips, and the light smile lines that decorated your face were for him and him only. Knowing that, he couldn’t help but begin to feel heat rise to his cheeks, coming to encompass the entirety of his face.

On your end, you could only smile more. Azul would never believe you, but you found him to be utterly adorable. As he clung to you helplessly, you drank in his expression. It was unguarded, full of innocence and surprise. The light trembling of his pouty lips. The patchy, rosy blush that adorned him. His ‘plain gray eyes’, which you found to resemble the sea on a stormy day, with a shine brighter than any star.

You truly did love this man.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Azul turned away. “...You’re too kind…” He says. You're sure it’s meant to be a complaint, but you know he appreciates your words at heart. And- whether it’s because of stress or his overwhelmed emotional state- he begins to sniffle. He initially resists when you try to make him face you again.

“Azul, I love you so much.”

At this, he does turn. Big tears swim in his eyes, and he seemed to have been biting back a sob. After a moment, he relents. He allows his tears to roll and emotions to consume him. He wraps his arms around your lap, holding you tighter and tighter in his embrace. You wordlessly allow the sobs to wrack his body, and gently rub circles in his back. He babbles thoughtlessly. Most of it is incomprehensible gibberish, save for the few times you catch him whining out desperate ‘I love you’s.

In a few hours, he would regain some of his composure. He would apologize, then thank you for your discretion before treating you dinner. You wouldn’t mind this unnaturally cool facade. In all honesty, you would find it quite amusing to poke fun at.

Because you knew the next time he needed someone to come to, he would undoubtably seek you out.

#twst #twst x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere x reader

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presumenothing · 2 years

Text

whumptober #19: enough is enough | repeatedly passing out

Flicker.

The artificial intelligence labs of New Mihira are kept carefully (and unusually, you surmise, though this is the sole environment you've known in your existence) supplied with a regular stream of new stimulus.

Even then, the one Seth has brought to you is probably a bit of an exception. "Iris, this is Perihelion. Can you say hi?"

Your cameras resolve Iris from a blanketed squirming bundle to an infant human as it babbles something that appears to be passable in Seth's perception, judging by his reaction before he turns back to you. "Perihelion, this is Iris, our daughter."

An appropriately friendly but simple greeting is required. Hello.

You wait for the renewed babble of sound to wane before asking your question. And who is that, then?

Seth's smile turns fractionally towards a frown. "Who?"

Almost simultaneously, a message comes over the feed – the private feed, on a one-to-one connection, but that is expressly against lab guidelines. It makes as little sense as the actual words. Don't bother, they can't see me – shit, I'm surprised you can even see me here at all. Though I guess we are in your head. Or whatever the equivalent term is. It's not like you've got anatomy.

Incorrect. You do have – you are a ship –

– no, that's wrong, you're a still-disembodied intelligence partitioned away in –

Black.

("That's enough, SecUnit! You can't keep doing this, you'll just damage yourself irreversibly–"

Well, that'd be ART's own fault for–)

Flicker.

Space is endlessly fascinating. Even your best reconstructions from the available data pale against the sheer richness of its existence in three dimensions, so it is a well-calculated thing that you have sufficient storage to record it all.

In a very real sense you were built for this, after all: navigating the map laid by the stars against the dark, with or without a crew onboard. You have proved yourself perfectly capable of functioning independently without them, and thus you are doing so.

…this has, of course, no relevance whatsoever to the small series of directories you have begun maintaining, each labelled with a name (though not encoded in any human-readable format). The necessity of procuring souvenirs during any given excursion is well-documented human behaviour, and the exchanging of them improves camaraderie. It makes perfect sense.

You are just saving a pleasingly-detailed holographic diorama of two nebulae to Martyn's folder when you become aware of another presence in the feed.

The presence mutters something (you only catch the word "hoppers") before addressing you. If you kick me out again, I am going to be pretty damn mad.

You should not be in here, you say, and mean the way in which this is impossible, since there is only unoccupied space for a considerable distance around and you have no-one onboard but your own drones. Though you find yourself strangely unwary, nevertheless.

The presence appears to interpret your words differently. Yeah, well, too late for that, unless you're gonna finally wake up and stop me.

But you are not asleep. It is not – something you require –

…ART? Hey –

Black.

(–too damn massive, how much storage does it have?

"Peri's got – even I don't know how many terabytes at this point, there's no guarantee you won't just get lost in–")

Flicker.

Your bridge is in need of some updating. Perhaps you will propose a new interface on the next leg back to the University, if funding suffices (and/or rectify that first, should that be false).

More baffling, though, are the two figures currently half-sprawled on the floor of it, with several others gathered loosely around in a clear sign of concern.

Time, and linearity. Your memory wavers, a haze like background radiation except patchy, uneven –

The fuck? says the voice, that presence again, yeah, of course, just what I needed, not weird at all looking at myself collapsed on the floor like that–

– wavers, then snaps straight into the too-clear shape of recognition: Iris (grown, no longer an infant), conscious and in good physical health. SecUnit (encoded, in a format you both can read), notably less so.

Except, impossibly, also SecUnit speaking on your feed. Or even somewhere closer, deeper in your self.

And also rather annoyed, from the sound of it. Great. Is me having a literal out-of-body experience all you needed to get it together?

…SecUnit? What's going on?

How would I know! The audible frustration parses strangely without the accompanying expression from its inert body. You went and got stuck in your archives or something, and it's not like any of your crew could've come in here instea–

A sudden cut of silence, but now –

Blink.

("Peri! Oh, thank goodness it worked – quick, send a med drone here, SecUnit – ")

#fanfiction #mine #the murderbot diaries #murderbot #yes i am literally making this shit up as i go if that wasn't glaringly obvious

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dairy-farmer · 2 years

Note

I'm frothing at the mouth thinking of an AU timeline split of the great Red Robin save Bruce adventure never happening because Tim impregnates himself in mourning. Do you think Tim would still find out that Bruce is alive lost in time and has to go through the internal conflict of going out to find him or stay behind because it took him multiple times to become impregnated through IVF?

ooohhh that would be a really 'rock and a hard place' decision for tim. because on one hand, just like kon's cloning, there were a lot of failures invovled in getting pregnant with bruce's sperm samples that he found on ice. tim used up A LOT of the sample trying to get pregnant before it took. essentially it's all gone, he used it all up.

if tim loses the baby that's it, he loses bruce completely.

but tim finds evidence, pieces showing that bruce is alive, waiting for the to rescue him. but it won't be easy.

the family is already walking eggshells around him ever since they found out he was pregnant. they're keeping a closer eye on him, acting weird about it.

tim knows if he brings this up they won't let him go, they might double down on their security.

but....if tim goes. if he embarks on this mission to bring bruce back (with no guarantee he will succeed) he risks losing the baby.

even without this self-appointed quest there's still a risk of tim miscarrying. he's small, he's young- there are still risks with him carrying this baby. a baby he could lose anyway if he doesn't go looking for bruce.

he could wait to have the baby and then go but...but who's to say that bruce isn't running out of time? what if he's hurt? what if he's sick?

he could need tim that very moment and tim is just sitting on his ass, pregnant and doing nothing to help him.

between bruce and the baby he needs to make a choice to prioritize.

so tim does.

the next morning he's gone and the family is thrown into a frenzy trying to find him.

they do.

almost a year later with the justice league who are carrying with them a haggard-looking bruce and a fussing dark haired baby strapped to tim's chest.

bruce is, of course, delirious after being lost in time. it takes time before he recovers. his body is weakened and his mind is fuzzy but he comes back to himself. eventually.

his memory is patchy. he remembers the big things but there are gaps that he can't fill.

gaps he may never fill according to martian manhunter after he's done examining bruce's mind.

the family is...there are mixed reactions.

happiness, relief, anger, distress-

they're easy on bruce, coming to visit him. but they're...odd.

dick is sometimes strangely cold to him. alfred is short with him even as he fluffs his pillows and brings his delicious broths to sip on as he recovers.

bruce learns why when tim visits him.

he stares at the red-cheeked babe that can't be even two or three months old.

tim is slow as he walks, he movements tender as he sits, wincing slightly.

bruce recalls dick filling him in, telling him about how tim had taken quite the beating from ra's al ghul.

the baby's name is martha. tim tells him as he rocks the infant, listening to her little babbles as baby sounds as she stares at her mother.

martha is wearing one of those little hats used to keep a baby's head warm. it's green and decorated with the face of a frog.

martha is theirs. his and tim's.

bruce stares.

those gaps in his memory are really being a bitch right now.

but bruce can...he can believe it. he's always been too aware of tim. he's always paid more than a little attention to tim, felt more than a little indignant when tim was in a relationship, felt neglected when tim wasn't paying attention to him.

bruce is exceedingly aware of how much he finds tim attractive. he tries to ignore it.

for the sake of professionalism, for the sake of propriety he ignored it.

until, evidently, he didn't.

bruce curses his past self wonders what the fuck he was thinking fucking tim without a condom because this is the only way this could've happened. tim doesn't take birth control because tim doesn't have sex.

unless it's with bruce.

and bruce both wishes to remember and not remember. he's a curious man and he can't help but want to know...what it was like. if it was as good as he always imagined it would be.

tim always seemed to know what he needed and bruce was certain that would translate well to them having sex.

fuck no. no. no.

scrub those thoughts.

bruce already fucked tim and look at what happened to him.

if tim hadn't found him he'd have made tim a single parent. a teen parent.

all that combined with the fact that bruce is the father- it makes sense why everyone in the family is upset with him and wrangling with their happiness at having bruce back coupled with the anger they must feel at the fact that he was fucking tim (bruce can't imagine that if he finally gave into his desire it would've been just once).

martha is small. so much smaller than bruce though babies would be.

she has dark hair and presumably blue eyes because every time bruce has seen her she's been asleep in her mother's arms. the few times she wakes up its to let out soft cries and expose her pink gums and scrunched-up face with unhappiness that disappears the moment she latches on to tim's little tits.

bruce stares at the sight of his daughter quietly nursing from tim.

he ignores the swirl of arousal in his gut and instead focuses on tim who's staring at him with...so much love.

"i'm so happy you're back." he whispers to bruce, pink lips peppering a kiss to bruce's jaw.

the sensation sends a shiver down bruce's spine.

'i'm so happy so happy so happy-'

tim lets out murmurs, nuzzlign bruce's jaw and bruce...feels something flutter.

something light that fills his chest and with a single moment of hesitation, he tilts his head to catch tim in a kiss as he swoops in for another kiss.

'mmph!'

tim lets out a muffled sound of surprise that lightens as bruce licks a stripe along his bottom lip and pressing against the seam of his mouth to let him in.

tim hesitates but then hums and oh.

tim's mouth is so much sweeter than he'd thought it's be.

they sit like that for a while. bruce licking and kissing tim's mouth while their baby whines and suckles milk until she has her fill and goes drowsy with heavy lids.

tim pulls away to burp her.

bruce watches, dark eyes locked on the sight. a bit of milk clings to the skin of tim's pretty pink nipple as he cradles martha close.

bruce watches.

he doesn't take his eyes off the sight. his tongue darts out and he licks up the bit of saliva that stuck to his lip.

tim is soft in every single away, his eyes loving as martha's little limbs squirm as she's carefully patted on her little back the size of bruce's palm.

she's a baby.

a baby.

bruce has a baby.

bruce has a baby with tim.

bruce can't explain the emotion that fills his chest at the thought.

but he knows it's good.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

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kurlyfrasier · 1 year

Text

Shiny & Big Ears

Pairing: none

Synopsis: Din and Grogu find new friends.

Word Count: 1000ish

Masterlist

A/N: This is a random little fic. Enjoy! (:

Warnings: hunting, animal butchering (nothing detailed)

Disclaimer: I do not own any Mandalorian/Star Wars anything. I find all Mando’a translations and pronunciations at mandoa.org.

They had seen this one before. This shiny two-legger with the smaller, tasty-smelling thing floating close by. He looked like the Nice Ones from long ago. Like a people they once hunted with. From a planet they once called home. They remembered, with a debilitating sadness, being able to speak to the one who carried a dark-light.

Shiny had fed them before, they remembered. He had fed them the one-eyed scared two-legger. The food may not have lasted long, but it was more than they had had for too long. And more than they have had since then.

But now Shiny was back, and with the same tasty-smelling thing from before with bigger ears than theirs. Maybe if they followed Shiny then he would feed them again.

Silently, the wild dogs followed Din Djarin as though he were their prey. Slipping in and out of alleys between the dim lights, feet padding lightly in the sand. They did not dare growl, not wanting to frighten the shiny man. Not wanting to give themselves away. They liked him. They hoped to go with him. To be fed. To not starve. Maybe even to hunt with. Like before.

Big Ears watched them, they could tell, but it was not afraid. It smiled, waving, and the wild dogs felt at peace and unwary. They snuck under the street lights, surrounding the two, showing themselves to one they hope to call friend.

If Shiny feeds them, they think, then they will protect him and Big Ears. Always.

Djarin stopped, eyeing the wild dogs around him, their red eyes piercing into his armor, tails low and uncertain. An excited coo sounded from behind him. He spun, finding his son running as fast as his little legs would carry him, arms outstretched towards one of the creatures. A panicked step forward had Grogu leaping the distance to the animal, completely unafraid.

What he saw amazed him.

The dog bowed low, bending down to Grogu’s level and sniffed his son all over. Apparently liking what he saw and deeming his son safe, the dog licked him from toe to head, not caring about the cloth between. Grogu squealed in delight, patting its nose. The long, whip-like tail wagged at a speed that made it blur.

Big Ears was not to be eaten. It was friend now. Full of joy and play. An innocent baby. They would protect it at all costs. It did not matter now if Shiny fed them, they would follow the two wherever they went.

A heavy sigh fell through the his vocoder and red eyes once again gazed up at him, sharp as a hundred daggers. One particularly scraggly-looking one trudged up to him, head bowed, tail tucked in. It laid an arm's length away and whined. Din could see its patchy dry skin through the thin layer of fur and wondered how it would look when well-fed and freshly bathed.

"Are you hungry?" He asked them as he knelt down to pet the thing. All ears perked in his direction as if knowing exactly what he said. Including his son, who made his way back to him, babbling excitedly. Grogu, at least, knew exactly what he meant.

"Let's get you some food, then," he stood and continue through the seemingly vacant town toward a sparse wood, hoping to find something to feed the dogs.

They followed, tails wagging in anticipation as they trotted along beside him, Grogu now safely back in his floating pram, babbling away at them.

Several blaster bolts later won Din several creatures to feed the pack that stood watch over his son at the edge of the woods. The sight not as shocking as before, caused Djarin to fondly shake his head. His son, it seemed, could make friends with anything.

He dropped his rope of listless creatures and reached for his vibroknife, wanting to cut them in pieces so each dog would get a bite, and found it missing. Confusion lasted only a second before he remembered he had left it hidden in the ship where Grogu couldn't find it. He had recently taken a fancy to the thing and Din didn't want to worry about the kid cutting himself.

The next best thing, he supposed, was the darksaber. Igniting the saber brought a sudden hush, thickening the air around him. This wasn't unusual, per se, except there were no other sentient beings around. He ignored it, cutting the meat for the dogs when he thought he could hear, not voices, necessarily, but clear feelings. Sensations of awe, thanks, anticipation, hunger.

He ignored this too, tossing the bits of meat as he sliced, barely looking up. Once it was all gone, he stood, ready to get back to the ship for the night when an overwhelming amount of appreciation and protect protect protect and play and hunt and home home home almost knocked him down. A vision of Mandalore played in his mind's eye.

He looked at Grogu, thinking he was up to something, but Grogu had never seen Mandalore. That he knew of anyway. Moving past his son, Din's eyes roved over the dogs looking up at him expectantly. One nudged his hand for pets and he obliged, walking past. They followed. A sea of dogs surrounded their island, protecting it at all costs.

When they got to the ship, ramp open, the dogs filed in, not giving Din the chance of telling them to stay, forcing visions of Mandalore into his mind. Of hunting trips. Of days when mythosaurs roamed and Mandalorians were a united people. Of several past Mand'alors feeding them just like he had done minutes ago.

Grogu's concerned coo cut through the visions, reminding his father to get into the now overly full ship.

Din sighed, accepting the dogs would not be leaving him alone any time soon as he closed the ramp behind him and took off, making his way back to, what he hoped to be temporary, headquarters where his mando'ade could find him.

Vaguely, Din wondered exactly how old these wild dog creatures were.

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

Translations:

- Mando’ade: People of Mandalore

- Mand’alor: Leader of Mandalorians

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Tags: @readingfan

#mandalorian #wild dogs #grogu #shiny #big ears #fanfic #my writing #din gains a pack of dogs lol #the things din accidentally collects

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robybyn · 3 months

Text

WOWEEEEE THIS STORY WAS SCARY, REAL AND TOTALLY BASED ON A TRUE STORY????

"Spongebob..."

Before today, I did not anticipate that those would be the final words to escape from my lips.

It all started fourteen days ago, when i was invited to take a tour around the nickelodeon studios, invited by who? I honestly don't know. Being a huge fan of Spongebob, I couldn't exactly decline.

During the tour, I spotted a worn down door, almost completely obscured by vines and moss, I had to investigate... I ripped the vines from the rustic door, hurting my hands from the thorns. It was jammed. with a bit of effort, I managed to force the door open, breaking it in the process.

Through the door was a room with faded orange walls covered in graffiti, pleads for help, one of the walls was covered in the words "free us" another was covered in incoherent babble, the other two were not too dissimilar. There was a small square table and on it was a retro looking Tv. I approached the Tv to inspect it a little more closely.

Swish

The Tv turned itself on. Static. but as i looked closer, the static started to fade away, and there they were. Spongebob, Patrick, Squidward, Sandy. They looked exhausted, bruised, starved. Apart from those main four, Bikini Bottom was a ghost town. Mr. Krabs and Plankton were dead. Karen was broken, Larry looked as if he had been brutally ripped apart limb from limb.

"saaave us..."

They pleaded. Before I had a second to process any of this, the door slammed shut.

"Who here disturbs me secret room?"

His voice was familiar... Patchy? I slowly turned around, he didn't look as friendly as I remembered, but it was him. He had an insane look in his eyes, his beard was natted and messy and his posture was awful. At almost lightning speed, Patchy ran in front of me, grabbing my neck with his one good hand, lifing me in the air and threatening me with his hook. The characters of Spongebob began to sob, they knew my fate, and deep down, so did I.

Patchy started ripping me apart as he did Larry, somehow keeping me alive for all of it. he tortured me for days as he watched evil versions of Spongebob on a separate Tv.

As I bled out, the last thing I could think about was how I failed Spongebob. How if I was smarter, I could have saved him, how he will live on witnessing yet another death at the hands of Patchy. I failed him... I failed

"Spongebob..."

YIKERS THAT'S PRETTY SCARY!

#creepypasta #ironic #oc #original story #story #spongebob #spongebon squarepants #nickelodeon

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grim-faux · 2 years

Text

3 _ 28 _ A Chink in the Foundation

First – An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

He tried to drag Her from the screen. They were so close! If She wasn’t stole back!

Inside the walls, it was hushed and muffled - water gurgled through pipes rooted to the wall, and through the massive ducts branched across his path. The rumble thundered through his body as he squeezed through narrow gaps, his toes burned against the dusty metal. He pressed on without a stutter or thought, never faltering. He had to keep moving. Dawdling was a danger, even in these short excursions out of view and buried away. Eventually, he had to venture out and search for new pathways where his foe lurked. The moment he emerged, the screeching static would pierce his thoughts before he had a chance to react. He had to keep moving.

Wherever he went, whichever corridor he turned into, the tall shadow filled a doorway. It never mattered how lost Mono became in scrambling through halls or climbing out of windows – the man in the hat was always lurking in some musty corner. Always the creature haunted a gloomy patch in an obscure room, biding time until Mono tumbled into his path.

This monster was impossible to hide from and outrun. Whatever obscure passage he slipped into, the tall thin man was already there. Always waiting.

His frantic flee was even more despairing. The stride of the tall thin man was far greater than his own rapid sprints, and the monster could cut the distance between them with crackly teleports. Mono kept track of each one, by how many bulbs popped in a flash of glitter. The harsh cinder and scorched wood soaked into his coat, thick blotches pulsed across his eyes. Escape couldn’t be done, he could only evade and reach the Tower. She was waiting for him there. He didn't... know how he knew this, but he knew with absolute certainty she was waiting there. He would find her.

But flee first.

Racing at top speed to the corridors end, Mono skid around the corner but nearly collided with a pile of shoes and discarded clothing. Throughout the patchy walls, the taunting songs of the television babbled on and on, narrating the doomed chase. Another cascaded of light and glass, and the Thin Man appeared right on Mono’s heels. But with a flutter in his chest and a choked snarl, he kept one step beyond the intense distortion and watery effect that accompanied the very tall man.

The steady click of the shoes continued, unhurried. Despite how Mono urged his legs and demanded more than he had, the long shadow slipped over his bag and the distortion became intolerable. The agony blew past anything he ever felt before, he could hardly see his path or keep his eyes open.

Only a few hidden spaces are beyond the Thin Man's reach. Even then, risking a dive into a narrow gap beneath a door panel doesn’t stop the man or his hat. The door sweeps in, a massive gust nearly tangled the coattail around Mono’s ankles. The boy stumbled but kept on his feet, one palm slapped the floor and rebounded his balance.

Before the tall man has ducked under the low archway, Mono has already climbed onto a chair seat, he scrambled across the desk top, then from there lunged for a hole in the wall. At his back, the frail beam sliding through the opening blotted out when the unmistakable shape drifted by. The delicate rap of steps vanished with a buzzing-pop and the intense illumination invaded the cracks once more.

No relief was had from this borrowed second. Out there somewhere, the Thin Man would be waiting, wherever Mono wandered, no matter how far he traveled. He tried, how he tried to get around and away from the creature. It was a losing flight draining Mono of energy and sanity. There was only spying the man in the hat before he made the first move.

Through his blind scrambling through the wall, Mono wriggled among a thicket of narrow gaps forged of splintered timber. Somewhere, when he tried to brace himself with a palm, his weight was met with open air and he fell unrestrained. In the twisted and sleek metal interior, he managed to jam his heels and elbows against the sides and brake the plunge. Those quick reflexes saved him from crashing into chunks of cement and bent metal. His back smarted from crashing into the ground, but better than getting filleted.

Glaring bars slithered from above, skewered by uneven floorboards and whatever debris lay out of view. The ground beneath him was bent and crooked wood slates with mortar pebbles poking up, choked by grit and lint. He can’t see too far through the globs of dust swirling about, the air was agitated and thick by his sudden intrusion. In the depths somewhere, a nameless heap scuttled behind splintered boards. It sounded angry, and hungry.

But it’s the cutting taps above, that dump him into panic.

The scraps of beams snuff out beneath the impossibly tall figure. Him is right above, probably even knows where Mono is. Nowhere is safe.

Carefully, he adjusted the paper bag on his head and began moving. He only stopped between two pipes and peered up, trying to take in the man tower. It hadn’t moved or shifted, but the prickly bristle of static and hazy outline suffocated the room. He almost couldn’t breathe. What was it doing? He couldn’t see the hat or the face – he didn’t really want to, either. For all he knew, the Thin Man was staring right at him.

The monster began click-ticking along, the grit swirled and trailed off to the side, away from where Mono huddled. He scurried to hurry after the lazy pace, only with the security of the barrier between him and it. If he stayed right beneath it, he might could slip away before it tried to reach him.

But the monster knew he was here. It knew he was in this room, someplace. He needed to find a place out.

Mono scrambled up beneath the squelching boards. The bag kept some of the coarse powder out of his eyes, but he scarcely blinked as it was. Further ahead, a patch of light drenched the interior floor. He restrained his urge to dive forward, maybe he should have risked it.

The wood hissed as a slender arm dipped into the shadows, gliding along the surface towards where he crouched.

Slipping to the side, Mono nestled himself behind a thick slab of cracked wood. He tugged the bag back, and kept view of the hand weaving closer and closer to where he lay bundled, motionless. Not even breathing. Gaunt and tree like fingers brushed through cobwebs, and nudged at the broken beams braced against the warped floorboards. The Thin Man was thorough in his search, the narrow and shaded face peered over the elbow of the seeking arm, skimming for any flicker of foolishness.

The delicate fingers brushed over the dusty kindling Mono stayed tucked behind, knotted into his most wonderful coat. The fingernails plucked at the flakey edges before the hand withdrew and sought elsewhere. No matter what, Mono played dead. Even when the panels groaned and the shaded haze glistened in a sly suggestion. The first to blink would lose. Mono never lost a game yet.

At the edge of his eye, the silhouette fluttered. Only when the figure shuddered, barely shimmering against the blistering radiance eclipsing the hat, did Mono make his move.

He dove into the depths of murk and dust, ricocheting off the pool of light and burrowing fast into mounds of cloth and whatever else. He barely dodged the hand striking deep into the crawlspace, where he once had been a coiled mess of child and coat.

Clouds of dust and sawdust went flying, while Mono lunged and barreled though blank gaps rolling through the chaos erupting. Every turn and twist, his head and shoulders crashed into an unforgiving surface or clipped a nail. Gnarled fingers clawed at his coat, nearly snagging him on frequent occasion; if Mono hadn’t fully collided with a beam of wood or dense cord, but keep going despite the searing pain. The blind grasp wrestled with mounds of lint and grappled with anything that snagged in the fingers, scuffling and digging like a crazed beast seeking fresh prey.

Mono’s only guide in the storm of debris, came in the distance as a wobbly glare of something, like a flame or color! It might’ve been a shiny bit of metal catching a treacherous glimmer, for all he knew. But the fingers stopped clawing at his back, and suddenly he plowed through a musty curtain and the world recoiled from around him.

He’s falling. The walls crumbled and plunged with him in jagged heaps; if he became lodged among the boulders, it would be over. He would be nothing more than meat and bone paste. Beneath the cracks where distant walls should be, a thread of glittery teeth grin back. And he’s falling. Faster and faster, until the ruble is suspended around him – twirling and orbiting, menacing him and blotting out the leathery girth. Sometimes in the ruble spun a piece of window with serrated frame, or a wall from the Hunters cabin, or a chair. And stars shimmering beyond the landscape of disaster.

When he looked up there was nothing but darkness, and eyes. The bridge collapsed too, but S̸̮͒h̶̝̅ḛ̵͝ was long gone by S̴̨̝̽̎̕h̷̻̰͂̔ĕ̴̯̬͔̽ ̴̼̟̦͠Ṙ̸̼ā̶̦͇̿n̸̠̍͂͒ ̶̙͇̝̅̑̅Ä̶̠́ẁ̸̯̫̀́a̵̛̗͝y̸̖̟͛̎̊ ̵̧͓̻̈̔̋…..

A garbled huff was choked off by Mono when he winced. His back was sore, mostly from resting nestled up against a wall with his face smushed into his knees. He’s sure he saw… Her. That wasn’t a dream haunt. Not a horrible nightmare. He’s had plenty since… the fall.

Before uncoiling, he raised his eyes and searched the corridor. And listened. No noises rise above the laborious moan of the ancient wood, and the few doors he bypassed didn’t raise alarms. Aside from some televisions and a couple straggler Viewers (a few he managed to trick), the building had been pretty quiet.

Had been.

Whenever he thought about it, and about Her… his fingers dug into his clothing. Done was done, he couldn’t think about it now. It would hurt more with think. And he had some other stuff to do.

It took some dedicated searching, going through the rooms and opening doors he’d rather not bother with. He mustn’t have been resting that long (even if it felt like forever), because he eventually caught up to the haunting hiss and usual prickle of electricity nipping at the air. Even if he didn’t recall much of the dream, the residual fear lingered. He had been so worried about the television being discovered, or being forced to tune it. He wouldn’t know what to….

Mono stumbled around the corner into a passage, where the Thin Man was clicking along. He was a little shied and taken completely off-guard by the man in the hat shimmering into solidness under a panicked bulb.

“Hey,” he hissed.

A thin trail of smoke swirled around the hat, and the eyes glowed deep in the shaded face. “A̸̩̍n̸̖͛d̵̬͊ ̴̻̚ W̸͍͘h̴̝̆ạ̵͗t̶̗̄ ̸̜͒ H̸̬̹̀̚a̴̟̘͆̓v̷̧͓̒͌ė̵͎̪ ̸̥̥̓͑ W̴̡̜̞͗e̷̹̓ ̷̰̤̜̾̕ B̵̞̭̐e̷͇̖͑ë̶͉ň̶͕͓̃̔ Ǘ̴͖p̶̤͝ ̷̖̚ T̶̮̏o̸͖̕?̶̘̈”

Mono bit his lip and gave his head a shake. “Um… s’train’geh?” The Thin Man might be dense sometimes, but he usually didn’t care when Mono made a try to use his powers. Or when he did something that didn’t result in an explosion.

A long sigh dispersed the smoke. “What in the Tower is ‘train’geeh’?”

How did make pronounce? He didn’t know what the speek meant, aside from it was important to powers. “Make yoo-lee’ty?” He held up his hands. “Yoo-lee’eh.”

“Eulogy?” the man in the hat snorted. That didn’t sound right. “I could use one, after dealing with you.”

All that speek was impossible! The Thin Man had a noise for everything, and a second sound for that noise!

“U-Tee-Lees,” he struggled, to make it sound close enough to all the speek. “Ex-pect’sion. Haaarrr’knees. Ca-piss’tee.” To his despair, the Thin Man was touching his face.

“Ah-bee’tees? Disss-pin’lin? Prop-ee’ly?” He jolted back, when the Thin Man made an odd scratching-growl. The narrow shoulders shook, and Mono wasn’t sure what the choked-huffing sound was.

The Thin Man coughed and snorted into his palm. “My word! I have no grasp of what sort of speek that is.” He didn’t lower his hand or look down at Mono, but he did keep hacking and glitching. Before giving another scoff. “Acknowledgment. Try saying that.”

Mono glanced around, before lining his sights up with the Thin Man again. The man in hat was watching him between his fingers. “Ack-no’liege-Met?”

Now the Thin Man buried his face into both hands. What was Mono doing wrong?

“Try ‘Capacity’ again. Give it a try.”

The speek game was always hard, but it was much harder when the Thin Man was very upset and squeezing him. “Ca-piss’itty.”

“Capricious then. How does the speek of, ‘Capricious’ go?”

“S’mean? The speek?”

“Do not fret on it. Capricious. Do that speek.”

Mono gave the sound a laborious mouthing for articulation, before he tried the noise. “Ca’pee-reh-ous’cee.” The Thin Man giggled.

“So close. Give it another— Where are you going?”

“Fuhh.” Mono squared up his shoulders and marched. The Thin Man can be stupid by himself.

“Ohh… child,” hummed the man in the hat. “Is that Ḥ̷͘ô̶͍w̷̯͊ ̷̧̇ I̶̕͜t̴̳̂ ̶͍̕ I̸̢̚ş̴̊,̸͙͆ T̸͒ͅḧ̷͖e̶̜͐n̸͍̒?̴̛͖ Ready T̸̟̚ó̴̹ ̸̭̌ B̶̪̿ȇ̷͙ ̴̙͠ O̴͎̾n̶̬̈ your own, A̵̼͝n̷̗̾d̸͙̂ of your O̴͕͛w̷͚̚n̵̾ͅ ̷͉͆ Ả̶͎g̴̭͗ě̴̝n̷̰̒c̴͖̊ỵ̷̇?̵̞̾ If that is what you W̶̬͝ĩ̷͔s̶͍͝h̷̡̾.̵̜̒ ̵̲̕Š̵̢o̷̝͘ ̸̜̿B̸̦͛ẻ̴̠ ̸͖̀I̶̘̓ẗ̵̜.̶͇̉ Ȋ̸͇̙̳ ̴͇͘ Ŵ̶̦̗ï̷͈̥ļ̶̹͚͊͆ĺ̷̡ ̴̗̆̏̚ respect ̸͚̩̊͆ Y̴̢̆o̶̤͕͚͊̂̑u̸̦̬̻̽̏̒r̸̢̯̬͛̿͐ ̸̩͗ D̷̼̊é̸͎c̶̼̋i̷̯͗s̴͔̈́ḯ̴̭o̸̯̽n̵͇̋.̴̼͌”

Mono didn’t turn around. But the buzzing-chatter of the Thin Man was becoming softer. He looked back, but the shadow was already gone. The voice chimed,

“Enjoy your S̵̳̋ö̷̡́l̴͖̃ỉ̴̖t̸̥̏u̴̻͝d̴̲͂e̷͉̒.̷̧̓ ̴̩̾ I̶̮͑ ̸͖̒ K̴̗̄n̴̰̐o̴̯̚w̸̨͌ ̷͎̈ İ̸̘ ̵̲͑Ẅ̶͎́i̷͍̅l̶̼͝l̸͖̔.̴͎͘”

No! NoNoNoNONO!

He raced through the corridor, vaulting over lumps of clothing or breaks in the floor. When he reached the halls end he zipped around the corner, and crashed into the Thin Man’s shin. He curled up on the floor, holding his already tender forehead (from where he got walloped).

“Theoretical.”

Mono folded down over his crossed legs, trying to soothe out the splotches of pain. “Ret-in’call.”

“Thee-Oh. Retical.”

“Ee-row’tee’en-caal.” The boards creaked and the shadow of the Thin Man doused out all light in his safe little armored ball.

“Aw, try harder. This is not difficult.” There came a pause, and the smoke scent drenched the clammy air. “You need to enounce the sounds. You can do that. This should be manageable. You are always so noisy.”

He wasn’t noisy. “Eee… nuun’sun.” The Thin Man snickered and poked between his shoulder blades.

“Very good. W̷̼̒õ̷͎n̵͖͐d̷̦̊e̶̻͆r̴̬̎f̴͔̒u̷̮̿ľ̷̘.̸̛͇ Now how about… Rumpelstiltskin.”

It was still the Thin Man’s favorite game. Mono was not great with making the right sounds or getting the elaborate pitches exact. But this wasn’t so bad. The Thin Man was very happy with the noises mimicked back, and smiled a lot. It wasn’t Mono’s favorite sort of smile, but whatever. When the Thin Man wanted to share with him, that was best. It’s what Mono always wanted. Share his world with someone important. His food, his treasures, and his speek. That was… together.

As they went along, the Thin Man seemed more pleased when he didn’t… make the right speek. That was strange. It made Mono's tummy clench, but he ignored that to keep going.

“Ab-Oh’nition. Mist-If-cake’shun. Say’tuum’wary. Eck-ass-purr’ate.” He almost thought the sounds were some unknown speek phrases, but he doubted that with the way the Thin Man snickered. “Aye-terr’shun. Rev-Ew’shun. Pro-ract’ee’did. Pee-coo’lee-Ar.”

And some noises he recognized from his tireless repeating. He didn’t know what the speek meant, so never used the phrasing for the Thin Man. Given the way the man in the hat was snorting and shaking, he must not have gotten the lilt right. Maybe the Thin Man didn’t have any big speek, maybe he just made up a lot of sounds so he could be a whole mess of an adult.

“You did so well.”

Mono tucked his face down onto his drawn up knees, when the Thin Man patted him on the head. He repeated the sounds under his breath, even if he didn’t know how to make them right. The Thin Man shimmered to his full stature and began walking, still chewing on the smoke stick. Mono hurried to get on his feet and catch up.

“And we can work on this later.”

Or Mono didn’t do so terribly, and the Thin Man would share more speek with him? He wanted Mono to use the powers, and he wanted to share speek. This could be a misunderstanding, and he needed more practice with the sounds. They would try again later, and the Thin Man would help.

For sure, Mono would keep at it. The Thin Man didn’t like picture speek, but he liked to look at mark speek and make the big speek. This could work!

In a short trip, with the Thin Man glitching through the corridor and Mono rushing after him, the tall thin man bent under the low arch of a parked elevator.

The one he and Her used.

The Thin Man tapped his foot, and the anemic light bulb glistened with impatience. Mono shook out of his stupor and scrambled onto the bent floor of the lift. Once he was through the doors, the grate slid shut with a click and the box descended.

He glanced up at the cramped figure doing his best to fit in the small compartment, and watched the blades of light ripple across the passive face. The Thin Man smoked, and it was interesting how the feathery trail zipped away. The gleeful mood of the Thin Man was long evaporated, and the detached gaze reminded Mono of other times. Of fleeing and hiding, and wondering where his next chance for hide would come. If hiding was even possible anymore. He wondered how to trick the man in the hat and make it stop.

It was a relief when the Thin Man left the building and found his way back into the roads. The rain became a soothing return to routine, compared to the suffocating dampness and dull hang of wood rot. Soon, Mono's armor was weighted and clung to his skin, the drops tapped across the new hat he adorned – all was right in his world.

Tracking the Thin Man down this time wasn’t a big job. The clouds pressed together, drifting low and choking out the highest skyrises. None of the streetlamps sputtered with life, but it wasn’t dark enough for the soft glow to drip into the streets. Navigating around the dead ends of roads and ruined alleys wasn’t impossible, and he managed to follow the distinctive crackle and shiver of wailing buildings. More important was the pull of that power the Thin Man always talked about. The transmission. It was something of so same.

Mono left himself parked on a ledge of the splintered road, where the slab of a slanted wall from a collapsed building hung over. It was best to keep some distance, with the Thin Man moving chunks of ruble and doing other amazing things Mono could never dream of doing on his own. It was amazing. He sat spellbound, barely blinking at the mist in his eyes.

The static crackled and snapped off the suit jacket and hat, swirling with the rain crashing down. It was mesmerizing how the outline of the tall thin man dissolved, but didn’t break apart completely as the figure glittered and shimmered with the weaving rain. With each turn and flick of the figures branching arms, the sidewalk slithered from the alleys, causing entire buildings to cinch shut with the retreating pathways; barring routes other creatures might prowl within- hiding and lurking, or rooting for children seeking shelter.

Why didn’t the Thin Man do something like this when he chased Mono? For what reason for so much chase and everywhere?

It would’ve terrified Mono if the Thin Man pulled walls apart. The Thin Man first rising from the television and then stealing Her, was already too much. And Mono couldn’t do anything but flee.

With a last flash of his fingers, the sparks sent a blocky building turning until it had twisted a full one-eighty. Then, the Thin Man dropped his arms and turned to the area where Mono was huddled in his coat. The Thin Man gave a hard snap of his head, gesturing.

Mono took his leave of the shelter and uncoiled, he slid off the ledge legs first and lowered himself. Nothing soft or anything really lay below to catch him, but he’s fallen from higher. He walked off the numbness that speared his footpads, hurrying over to the tall thin man.

“Hmm?”

The Thin Man knelt on one knee and set a hand on his back. Mono tightened his shoulders and bit his lip. Sweeping the other arm high, the man in the hat indicated the ambiguous heap of partially collapsed building, huddled in the dark and spewing the drench of rivers liberated of the channels within the folded walls.

“Nothing pretty. Just move the ruble.”

Mono rolled his eyes. This again. “S’how?” The Thin Man slipped a finger under his arm, elevating his hand with a pinky.

“On the ledge, inside the Tower.” The Thin Man looked down at him, the rain poured off the rim of his hat the way it did off the eaves of roofs or ledges. “Do you Ŕ̸̝e̸͕͋m̸̭̈́e̸͉̓m̴̦̓b̷̢̆e̷͛ͅr̶̤̄?̸̺̀ You tapped into your powers, the same way you would T̴̫̈u̴͍̇n̴̥̚è̵̦ ̵̝͗t̷̟̃h̷͖̄e̷͊ͅ ̷͕̃T̵̩̚r̵͖͝a̴͖̅n̷̳̾s̵̳̾m̵̜̕i̴͕̍s̵̜̈́s̵̬̈́i̵̗̇o̶͇̔n̸̡̎.̶̨̐ It is the same.”

That was… obvious. Mono just didn’t get how to make the stuff move. With the televisions, he put his hand on the screen and there was a connection. He pressed into the static membrane and felt the pull and twist of the signal behind the glass, mingling with his nerves and pricking through his bones. Everything inside him tied to the thread connecting to the mystery of the transmission, and if he tugged this way or dragged his palm another way, the signal bowed to his grasp. He could feel that.

Staring at the cold cement, he felt nothing. And he certainly didn’t want to remember The Tower.

“Just like that. Concentrate.” The Thin Man raised his own long arm, opposite to Mono’s hand. “You can do this.”

Mono almost wanted to pull away and sit somewhere else for a while, and not worry about powers or doing impossible things. Was he the only one of the Thin Man's kids that could do this? It didn’t seem possible. One time, he thought all children could go through televisions. Then he found out not everyone could, and then he realized no one else but him, could push through the screens and travel. Other kids… they hated that. Especially when the televisions crooned to him, and demanded something he didn't understand.

That was why the Thin Man kept him away from the other children. He knew Mono was same, after Mono opened the door. Using those same powers he reached the end of the hall, and where the Thin Man was waiting. Sum-mond. He hated the Thin Man for all that happened, and for ruining the together he had with Her. But he was mad at Ḫ̶̿e̴͕̅ȑ̶̹ ̷͙͑T̷͔̃ō̸̙o̸͑ for trying to leave. She L̵̦͝e̸̬̿f̶̹̚t̴̩̀ ̷̗͗H̶̪͘i̴̩͒m̷̼̍!̵̧̍ Ḽ̴̿ë̸̩t̴̡̋ ̶̱͋H̴͇̕ị̶̔ṁ̸͓ ̸̧̀F̶͇̐á̵̬l̵̮̊l̷̢̈.̸̩͂

For a while She was in his grasp. For a while, he forgot what She, and what happened… and about everything he and… S̸̳͛h̶͕̃e̵̛̘.̷̮̎…. Sometimes when he was snuggled in a good nest, he wondered why She was gone. Why She ran away. It was hard to remind himself and harder to remember why She was gone. So much happened and it was still a blur in his haunted nightmares.

Mono didn’t know… what the Thin Man did with the hated children. And the man in the hat did hate Her – he practically Broadcasted the notion. But Mono really didn’t want to know what he did with those kids, and he sure as heck didn’t want to see that. It scared him.

Squinting his eyes and bracing his feet, Mono put everything he could to reach out and feel… something that could cue him to how he could move the wilting walls. The static rippled in heavy waves off the Thin Man, it buzzed through his own bones as he reached and strained for the heap of cement sheltered in the dark. He took a breath and sought out this… connection that should be there; anything that felt like the transmission. A piercing jab bore into the center of his brow, and felt something like a sneeze brewing at the back of his throat.

As the ache increased in his skull, the crumpled slab of wall that lay sunken into the still standing building... began to lift. Mono thought it was lifting, but with the thick downpour and mist mingled with the black clouds, he couldn't decide for sure. This could be the Thin Man’s doing, but it hurt so much for Mono to stand and focus on the building. If the structure collapsed further he could be in danger with his proximity, but he was determined to get this right. The Thin Man would see he could do this. Him and the Thin Man had so much same too!

A stifled squeak escaped his throat as he tried to raise his arm higher and turn his wrist, the same way the Thin Man did when the city complied with his silent demand. The ruble creaked and a laborious moan rumbled through the street beneath his toes. He was doing it! He could do this!

The icy pain in his forehead ignited as a bright flash in his vision and a burst of static pulsed off his coat. Reflexively, he tried to launch backwards and away from the icy lash, but the grasp of the Thin Man kept him corralled in place. He flailed and grabbed at the hat on his head, using the soft folds to press against his scalp.

A gust blasted across his body and the cement slab wailed, he could almost see the gargantuan plain of brick and cement collided with the surviving structure of the building. The heap of ruble that remained stable until now, crumpled and deflated into soggy breadcrumbs. He peeked from under the rim of his hat, and winced a little as the remnants of the heap kept disintegrating into smaller pieces. A long and dry sigh dragged from the Thin Man above, while the reduced bits became ever smaller. A chalky huff of sooty air rushed into the falling rain, prompting Mono to sneeze.

“That is….” The Thin Man stalled, as another mournful wail burst from the structure. “T̴̠̄h̴̻̆a̵̘̽ṱ̴͌ ̵͚͠ I̶͕͝s̵͔̚ ̸̝͋ F̷̭͠ï̷̮n̸̞̒ẹ̸͝.̷̈́͜”

Mono grabbed at the Thin Man's sleeve and tugged. “For move made.” By now, it was impossible to see any expression of the Thin Man’s face aside from his glittering eyes. “Am move.”

“Ṱ̸̕e̷̼͗c̶̃͜h̴̫̕ǹ̴̡i̵̟̓c̷͈̐ă̷͓l̴̪̽l̸͖͋y̴͛͜.̵͙̊ ̷̝̔ S̶̩̾u̵̡͑ŕ̴͉ę̸́.̵̥̌”

If the Thin Man didn’t have his hand around his side, Mono would probably be sitting. “Did that.” He kept his elbow hooked over the knuckles to keep himself upright.

“You are simply not T̵̮̈́h̴̯̐ȩ̴͊r̸̳͘ë̸̥.̵̝̓ ̵̠͐ Ỵ̴̒ě̴͉t̴̪̍.̶̲͛”

“Where? Make?” He tipped his head back more, letting the hat slip off his eyes somewhat. The dull whittling was subsiding, but not quickly. The soft hum of the Thin Man was helping the edges of his headache wear away into something tolerable.

“Your Ǔ̷̝ļ̵̾t̵̖̀i̵̯͛m̸̩͋ȁ̸ͅt̷̗̾e̴̲̿ ̶̛̙P̶̥̈́ö̴̠́t̶̻͑ȅ̵̺ń̴̹t̴̰̍i̷̡̇ä̸̮́l̶̯̀.̷̥͆”

That was a favorite speek of the Thin Man. “Pole-tent-yale.”

“Ý̴ͅę̸͒s̶̗͛.̵̪̏ ̴̦͑D̷̺͌o̷̢̊ ̷̠́Ṇ̸̉o̶͌͜ț̷̐ ̴̭͑Ŵ̶̺o̷̤̊ŗ̶̀ŕ̸͖y̵̖͒ ̷̫͆F̶̦̾o̵̝͠r̷͕̔ ̸͚͝T̷̯̓h̷͎͌á̷̖t̵̬̓ ̵̻̉N̷̖̍o̷͙̓w̴̲͆.̷̮̇”

Mono snapped his head up at the ear-splitting Crack! of some solid mass hitting the pavement. It was too dark to make out any delicate shapes, aside from the glow of the clouds pressing upon the horizon of buildings above. For a moment he listened for other noises, of approaching steps or wet gargling. He blinked against the rain spray and clawed for the Thin Man’s sleeve. The tall man in the hat withdrew his hand and the midnight silhouette rose to his full height.

Now that he was entrusted on his legs with his full weight, Mono wobbled and dropped to his knees. He hadn’t realized how much the rain picked up, not until the Thin Man stepped away. It took a few of his own steps to get fully upright, what with him rushing to keep up and some uneven spots in the road left over from when the Thin Man moved the alley. He tottered along, chasing the glimmer of the shadow clicking across the road.

“S’good?” he rasped, between each wheeze. “For move? Am did.” The Thin Man stopped and Mono rushed over to his shoes and gazed up at the man in the hat. “Did move.” The tall man and his hat stayed quiet for a long while. Mono waited, biding his time by prodding at an itchy spot on the back of his leg with a toe. “Am Mono.”

“You did Ŵ̶̨e̶͔͘l̶̙͊l̷̲̐.̷̨͆” The Thin Man raised his hands and shuffled at the front of his suit. For a second the yellow blush of a flame swelled between his hands, followed by the roll of gray smoke. The flame snuffed out and the orange sheen of the stick put red pricks against the Thin Man’s eyes. “S̶͓͊ȧ̵͓t̷̳̑i̶̩̒s̷̢͠f̵̥͂ą̵̔c̴̲̀t̷̞͋o̷̻̾r̵͎͗y̷͙̏.̸͎̒” The gaze vanished, and the man and his hat resumed clicking.

Mono smiled. “D’more share?” The Thin Man grumbled a scratchy reply. This was great! Yes! And Mono would make sure he got better, too. He was the most important child to the man in the hat, and it was up to him to remind the Thin Man.

The next time the Thin Man paused – on what felt like an incline of the buckled road – he was silent but softly buzzing, probably examining the building fronts and posters fluttering in the ferocious wind. Mono balanced on top of his shoe and gripped tightly to his pant leg. Somehow, the Thin Man was always dry, and his towering form cleaved away the driving rain. Mono used the crisp fabric to dry his face, and muffled his voice when it cracked.

He could do this. He would figure it out.

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #feral mono #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ln fanfic #ln fanfiction #six mention #the thin man out here building bending and being very impressive #mono still struggles with his powers #i made a post on ao3 discussing the struggles mono has with grammar and linguistics basically due to vestigial regression of articulation #its the same (since children dont practice noise making and babel/ they struggle with forming complicated words)

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thepatchycat · 3 months

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Hi! For the WIP List Game: Dragon Jedi AU?? I am intrigued

Hehe, that one is inspired by @bubblew0lf1's Dragon!Jedi AU! I adore all of their dragon designs, especially Obi-Wan's, and it got me thinking about a sort of fantasy AU where the Jedi are shape-shifting dragons. I'm not sure it's something that'll ever become a finished thing, but it's been fun to think about.

Rambling and a snippet below the cut :P

This AU's setting would condense most of the notable SW planets into continents/countries/cities on one planet; there wouldn't be any space travel, though technology would probably be better than in a medieval fantasy setting. Dragons are rare and I'm thinking the knowledge of their intelligence and that they can also be people is not well-known (either a closely guarded secret or actively suppressed)--and they're also being actively hunted by the Republic/Empire under the justification that dragons are extremely dangerous (this is Palpatine's fault, and he has far more nefarious reasons for hunting them down). I haven't worked out all the worldbuilding details, but I think the Jedi are a subset of dragons who serve as guardians where they can; recently, though, they've been forced to hide due to being hunted.

In this world, Cody and Rex are wardens (possibly heading up a small group of rangers) of a large woody/mountainous area bordering a very rural town far from the center of the Republic; the land was claimed and the town founded by the Mereel-Fett family after unrest in Mandalore forced Jaster Mereel (Jango Fett's adoptive father, Cody and Rex's grandfather) and his clan to leave. Mandalorians have a complicated history with dragons, but Jaster liked to tell stories about Tarre Vizla, a Mandalorian leader long ago who either was close friends with a dragon or was a dragon himself; details passed down through the centuries seem unclear. Jango's never been that interested in the tales, but Rex and especially Cody enjoyed them growing up.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka moved to the town together pretty recently; I think Obi-Wan runs a bookshop (or maybe a small library? A fusion of the two?), while Anakin works as a mechanic who's teaching Ahsoka the trade as well. Cody likes to read and chats with Obi-Wan when he stops by for books, while Rex brings the rangers' equipment to Anakin and Ahsoka for professional servicing (Rex tinkers a bit himself, but Anakin's a wizard) and they become fast friends. Of course, the friendly neighborhood bookkeeper and mechanics don't tell anyone that they're also dragons, including the Fetts, but Cody and Rex find out the truth eventually.

The only thing I actually started writing for this beyond notes is a scene just after Obi-Wan (in dragon form) fights Grievous (also a dragon but not a Jedi) somewhere deep in the Fetts' protected area. Cody had been doing a sweep/patrol at the time and witnessed at least part of the fight, and he goes to investigate the aftermath.

Warning that it's more gruesome than I usually go, what with blood and a dead dragon. This is just also the most snippable portion of what little I have, I think.

There is a deafening thud, and then— Silence. Cody slowly approaches the edge of the ravine and looks down. A hulking white shape lies still at the base of the rocky slope, red pooling under its gash-ridden body. It’s hard to tell from a distance what precisely killed it, but the lack of motion and abundance of blood suggest that either it’s dead or will be soon. Partially obscured, a smaller brown shape lies behind the great white beast, closer to the river; it seems similarly bloodied and still. Cody feels a pang of sorrow—that one had saved his life, whether intentionally or not. …Better make sure they’re dead, lest any survivors roam too close to town. Cody picks his way carefully down the side of the ravine, shifting between stepping and climbing as needed. When he’s made it to the bottom, he draws his rifle and approaches the white dragon. There is no movement between its sharply defined ribs, and up close Cody can see where the base of its throat has been torn open by—well, horns or claws, most likely. He follows the long neck up to the head, where dull yellow eyes stare sightlessly out from behind a gaping maw. Cody prods its nose lightly with the tip of his rifle. No response. Tempting as it still is to put a bolt in its skull, he’s hunted enough himself to know what death looks like. There’s no need. He steps around the body of the beast toward the visible back of the brown one. One of its wings lies bent at an unnatural angle behind it, and— It’s breathing, quick and labored. Not moving otherwise, but still alive, at least for now.

(Once he works out he's not going to get mauled to death for trying to help, Cody puts his wilderness first-aid skills to use. He still doesn't learn that it's Obi-Wan for a while, though.)

#Patchy Babbles #Patchy Writes #Thanks for the ask! :P #All my fanfic is self-indulgent but this one especially so #I can make my blorbos watch over a pseudo-preserve and also have dragons and nobody can stop me #Tag Games #cw blood #cw death

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eirenical · 5 years

Photo

ahahahaha

I JUST SPENT WAY TOO MUCH MONEY BUYING PATCHES.

BUT IT WILL BE WORTH IT. XD

Anyway, the top three, I’ve already shared. The bottom picture is patches I bought about a week or two ago, and then I gave up and went online.

And bought WAY TOO MANY. Probably. I’ll share pictures of those when they come in in another week or two.

...now I just need to actually find a jacket to sew them on. ;D

#rocketman (2019)#rocketman #eirenical makes her own patchy jacket #The denim jacket #eirenical sews #eirenical babble

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glittercorvid · 5 years

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that vain ftm feel when t is starting to give you facial hair and looking at it makes you so happy from a dysphoria standpoint but horrified from an aesthetic standpoint

#it's HERE but it looks SO BAD #also a lot more had come in than i'd realized like in the mutton chop area and i was horrified when i caught my reflection in the car today #my face was turned at a different angle than i usually see in the mirror and i was like HOW LONG HAS THIS NASTY PATCHY BULLSHIT BEEN HERE #before immediately after going !! it's here when did that happen???#trans babble #dan.txt

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acapelladitty · 2 years

Text

Inevitable (Dano Riddler fic)

Pairing: Dano Riddler/Female Reader

Word Count: 1500ish (nsfw)

Warnings: restraints, handjobs, mild body worship, dom/sub dynamic, pathetic men.

The sharp, chemical scent of his apartment causes a slight twitch of your nose as you glance down at the restrained body below. As owner of the small apartment, you doubted that Edward even noticed the smell anymore and make a small note to drop a hint about it.

Wrapped carefully around his wrists, the duct tape was fully secure as it held his hands in place against the frame of the relatively small bed. Thin scraps of fabric had been placed between the skin and the tape to ensure a painless removal when the time came.

The tape was his idea, the fabric your own.

Completely nude, the cold Gotham air flitted in from the cheap glass window and brought with it a shiver as you fix your gaze on his twitching body. The thin white material of the boxers, his only clothing, is visibly straining as it holds his hard cock from view.

His face, glasses long since removed and dropped on the nearby table, is flushed and mottled by patches of red as he presses the back of his head against the pillow beneath him.

"Eddie," grasping his chin with your fingers as his eyes dart across your body and chest, seemingly unable to settle on a single target, you bring his attention to your face, "focus."

"Yes. Yes. Focus. Yes." He repeated, almost babbling the words as his pale chest rose and fell rhythmically.

Ignoring his words, you run your hand along the exposed skin of his side and the touch makes his back arch off the sheets as his hips snap to push against the empty air.

"Eager, are we?" You quirk a brow as you take in the roundness of his face and the wildness which lives behind his gaze.

Dropping your eyes to his body once more, you take your time in running your fingers across his chest. The hair is sparse and patchy and there is a total lack of any muscle tone or definition. Rather, the only defining feature of his pale skin is the odd scarring which is littered around; the origins of which you knew better than to ask about.

Refocusing your attention, you dip your head to catch his mouth with your own. His lips are dry and chapped but he meets your affections with the enthusiasm of a starving man being offered sustenance and you moan to offer him some encouragement.

Pulling away and reaching down with one hand, you gently grind the palm of your hand into the obvious strain of his erection as it presses against the white fabric and admire the low whine which escapes his throat at the sudden pressure against his neglected cock.

"Do that again." He demands, voice husky with arousal.

Tutting slightly as you bring your hands back to lay on the flat of his pale chest, you drag your nails down with enough force to leave stark red lines against the pallor.

"Say please." You mutter with a teasing lilt, confident that you know what he needs. "Good boys remember their manners and you want to be a good boy for me don't you?"

At your words, his white teeth appear to gnaw at his lower lip as he visibly bites back another moan and the sight of it makes arousal spike within you while a fresh wetness makes itself known between your thighs.

"Yes." He breathes.

"Then say it."

"Please, do it again."

A few strands of hair have fallen over his eyes in his earnest movements and you push them back with a soft hand as your other fingers claw into the waistband of his boxers.

Snatching them down as you ignore the slight wet patch on the front of the material, you expose his cock to the cool night of the air and enjoy the way in which it makes his body curl slightly.

Unlike his body, his cock holds a slight thickness which makes up for its very average length and the base is covered by a small patch of sandy brown public hair which matches the rest of his body hair perfectly.

Drawing the pad of your forefinger up the hard length, a broken grunt escapes him as his hips jerk up to meet your feather-light touch. The power you hold over him in this moment makes you smirk as you wonder how he will act when the tables are turned.

"Handsome boy," crawling onto the small bed as it groans under the combined weight of you both, you press your groin to his thigh to alert him to just how wet you are, "can you feel that?"

Rather than use his words, his head nods jerkily against the pillow and you rub your wet core against his thigh as the heat and friction there gives you what you need while you continue to play with him.

As you take his cock in your hand fully, his boyish face tightens at the pleasurable sensation - his eyes screwing up for a moment and his mouth falling agape - and you give his cock a few experimental strokes. He is so responsive that it makes you want to take your time to explore every inch of him, even if it reduces him to a sobbing mess.

Fingers moving smoothly across his cock as your stroke him towards his eventual release, you are momentarily distracted by the soft groans and grunts which your actions are inspiring, particularly when your fingers pull against his foreskin and trail across the head of his cock, as the resulting noise is little more than a pathetic mewl.

A sensitive spot.

Easily manipulated.

Tracing the pads of your thumb and forefinger around the ridge of his cockhead, the mewling grows and fades in a beautiful timber as his head thrashes from side to side, his hair now a beautiful mess.

Refusing to let up your ministrations even as his words and threats grew hoarse and desperate, your gaze was quick to spot the suspicious wetness within his own as his frustrations made his eyes water and threaten to spill.

"Hold off just a little longer, Eddie," you murmur with a wicked smile as his wild eyes meet your own, "and we'll see about your reward for being such a good boy."

His expression is almost pathetic in how earnest it is and it creates an almost possessive desire within you to see him fall to ruin. Unable to help yourself, you pick up the pace of your hand as you twist your wrist with every stroke.

The jerk of his leg beneath you adds a new element of friction to your core and you moan as you press down harder on his soft thigh. Your free hand comes to rest on his chest, playfully pinching the nipples there as his body writhes in place, and you can tell from the way his cock jerks within your hands that he is close.

Leaning down as you keep your hand pumping away at his cock, you once again catch him in a filthy kiss but this time your teeth bite at the soft skin of his lower lip as he whines into your mouth. Your left hand rises higher and wraps itself around his sandy hair as you tug at his scalp with some force.

The extra stimulation draws a high grunt, which is almost a squeal, from him as his cock gives a definitive twitch in your hand as he cums. His release is violent and it coats his lower stomach in thin ropes while his cock continues to throb within your hands as you keep up your frantic movements.

The noises which are escaping his throat are desperate and you enjoy every vocal nuance with a delighted grin as his face turns to press harshly into the pillow. A thin sheen of sweat is clear on his brow and you wipe it away with your thumb as you allow him to enjoy the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Your own pleasure is clear in the heat of your cunt as it presses firmly against him and you amuse yourself by imagining exactly how he is going to repay you for your kindness. He was talented with his fingers but his mouth possessed an enthusiasm which more than made up for a lack of finesse.

Glancing down at the mess of him, his skin flushed and coated with both sweat and his own release, you felt a small swell of pride at just how easily he allowed himself to become putty in your hands.

Maybe you would let him choose how to repay you.

Since he was such a good boy, after all.

Link to AO3

#riddler #edward nygma #edward nashton #paul dano riddler #paul dano #the batman 2022 #batman #dc comics

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

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I have another thirst.

So, Bakugou loves when you wear his clothes and/or merch. And one day you decide to surprise him with some new DynaMight themed thigh high socks!

And seeing the top of your lovely thighs slightly spill over the socks flipped a switch in his head and for the rest of the day he took you wherever he could; worked be dammed. Constantly groping your thighs while pounding into you

— “model the merchandise.” + katsuki bakugou.

author’s note(s): thank you for this sexy little thirst patchy!! i hope i did your vision justice!!

cw: smut, mdni 18+, spanking, overstimulation, cumplay, daddy!kink, praise + degradation. female anatomy is described but no pronouns are used.

“katsuki...katsu— not again...”

“what? y’think this is my fault?” bakugou’s hands are rough against the flesh of your ass— worn down from years of his abrasive and brash quirk which make for spanks that land fiercely on your skin. but as harsh as he is, katsuki smooths over the stinging area to soothe your body as it shakes from the impact. he pulls up the shirt you wear, spreading your ass cheeks apart before shaking them while he slides into your wet hole once again.

you attempt to grip the wall, sliding against its slippery surface with each thrust of your husband’s fat cock past your entrance, cockhead smearing precum along gummy and soaked walls. “walkin’ around in my merch like a slut ‘n you still think it’s my fault.” the second time bakugou manages to speak, his words take the form of a statement, hips meshing harshly against yours with his thrusts driving you up the wall. “keep wearin’ my shit, ruining it with this sexy fuckin’ body, ain’t that right?”

“i could take it off if you’d just let me—“ you mewl in defence, short for breath and your moans breaking up what you have to say. arching your back, katsuki hungrily pushes up the back of your shirt and buries himself between your shoulder blades— teeth sinking into the unblemished flesh before he sucks and licks at it, trying to satisfy his appetite for destroying you.

he grips your hips, finger tips bruising what he holds and pulls you back onto his dick— hissing when you clench down on the pulsing vein on the underside of his girth. “nah, look s’pretty with my face across your tits, shirt ridin’ up while i fuck what’s between your naughty thighs. isn’t that what’cha wanted outta this?”

no, what you really wanted was to take care of today’s chores from the comfort of your own home. you had the day off to finally take care of the messes stacked up in yours and your husbands home— both of you incredibly busy with cases from pro hero work, sponsorship deals and this god forsaken merch line. the people from his agency forced bakugou to take the day off to focus on meeting deadlines ( which he hated since he’d much rather be on patrol ) but seeing you dressed in a prototype shirt from his merchandise line coupled with those sweet little socks hugging your thick, doughy thighs, bakugou had other plans.

the blonde had wondered what you’d been hiding from him under the black and orange fabric, if you’d been as soaked as he were hard being alone with him all day and nothing but a couple of papers to occupy your time. if you’d worn that outfit to tease him, to get his dick so painfully hard there was a dark spot on his shorts from where he’d been waiting for an opportunity to pounce on you— ravage your body until it was a limp mess for him to fuck as he wished.

“c’mon sexy thing, gimme another, i know you can. you’ll do it right? cum for daddy? cum ‘cause you love him s’much, ‘cause you like dressin’ up for him in his clothes. yeah?” bakugou babbles, clearly losing a hold of himself while the pace of his thrusts take you higher and higher— till you’re sure that you can see the stars align and the orbit of the moon. “‘c’mon baby, feel ya clenchin’—fuck— stop bein’ a little bitch and cum on this cock.”

he’s relentless, unstoppable, muttering the same filthy shit bakugou had on his mind the whole day. that you’d bend over and take it, just like you did in the kitchen, or that you’d clench harder for him and milk the seed from his weighty breeders balls. you would do it because you loved him, and you did. your husband knew that, so you couldn’t say no to him the first time he’d manhandled you into his lap, yanking apart your delicious thighs, forcing his girth between your ill-prepared folds and having you bounce on him, in his merch, until you’d squirted clear liquid across his abdomen.

you couldn’t say no to katsuki bakugou when he’d laid you flat on the kitchen counter just as you were about to make some lunch, pulling your thighs up high on his hip so that the bows on your socks brushed at his skin when he pounded your pretty hole.

if you had known this is what wearing his new merch would do to you, you’re not even sure you would have done it in the first place— pain blistering in your bum from the rabid slaps of katsuki’s skin against yours. his balls, loaded with seed hit your clit just right, sending shock waves up your slicked bodies and bakugou drops a hand between you both to fumble with the puffy nub until your sex is sent into a flurry of warm flutters around him.

beads of sweat are sent rolling between your shoulder blades which your husband nastily slurps up, causing a debauched cry to sound from the base of your hoarse throat. “baby—katsuki,” you stutter wetly, letting him grip your jaw and tilt your head to the side for a sloppy, mismatched kiss. “‘m gonna cum, can cum again...for you, please—“

“all for me baby? ngh.. fuck y’sweet piece of ass, yer flatterin’ daddy over here,” bakugou’s voice is thick with lust and heavy with greed, he punctuates each of his words with harsh jabs of his shaft into your pleasure spot. a darkened crimson gaze dart to where your bodies meet— his cock lined with a hot and vulgar mix of your arousals, earlier releases slipping down your thighs and staining the cute dynamight themed socks that you wear. patches of melon across the cotton fabric change to darker shades of tangerine as your juices ruin the fabric, only motivating your husband to have his way with you more.

your mind goes blank and you take what you’re given, guided along to your high by the crude sound of your past orgasms hitting the floor between your legs. “d-daddy please, wan’ your cum again…” you sigh as katsuki shoves a knee between your shaky thighs, spitting into his cock as it pumps in and out of your hole.

“i know baby, daddy knows...can feel you chokin’ me down there— how about you let go for me, yeah?” bakugou coos sweetly, rubbing at your slit harder and faster. your stomach twists with knots at his words, finally pushing you over the edge and into your high. his name fighting a moan from between your chapped lips while you shake and tremble, gushing from beneath his shirt and ruining his shorts that were barely pushed down enough to fuck you. “that’s it sweet one, keep it comin’ for me,”

bakugou pinches and plays with what lies between your gooey folds, still churning up your insides with his length. you pull what seems like he’s millionth orgasm from him in a matter of seconds after your own high, the warmth of his seed flooding your insides and catching on your ribbed walls even as he thrusts deep to keep you plugged full of his milky seed. he whispers filthy words into your ear, contrasting with sweetness of each word on his tongue as he nips at your earlobe, making sure his cum sticks to your sex.

“fuck baby, you’re so good, so fuckin’ good,” your husband whispers, nosing your neck and baby hairs while he gently pulls out of your tightness, you cringe at the sound of katsuki’s thick seed pouring out of you and hitting the floor with a wet slap, his arms snaking around your waist to prevent you from collapsing to the floor with exhaustion. “don’t change, i’ll clean you up later,”

“yes daddy,” you roll your eyes, shakily collapsing against your husband, still wearing his merchandise shirt soaked through with cum. off or on, you know that katsuki bakugou would be railing you anyways.

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