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turnipstewdios · 10 months

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Half-Lives

Something is wrong with Jason Todd.

That's not new.

Someone having answers about why... that might be. Someone maybe being able to help... that definitely was.

Danny just hopes its not to late. -----------------------------------------------

First ever fanfic! Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48120073 ----------------------------------------------- Chapter 1/? Danny didn't think he liked Gotham.

Oh, it was easy enough for him to avoid getting mugged, or shot, or involved in whatever chaos was happening on a given night. Invisibility was a great way to stay out of trouble, so long as he was careful. Nothing like walking around a corner and literally disappearing to lose a tail. He tried not to use it too much though. Tried to make sure he didn't blip out of existence on camera or in front of witnesses, or do anything else that might get the wrong sort of attention. So the ever present threat of crime was stressful, in a nagging background noise sort of way, but he could live with it. Or, well. Not Live with it.

Half-way live with it. But the weather in Gotham was horrible. It rained. A lot. Or drizzled. Or it was foggy. He’d thought that maybe the weather wouldn’t be so gloomy in the middle of Summer, but it was. Even worse. It was gloomy and hot. Heat wave or no heat wave, the city was way too warm for a place with this much cloud cover. All the rain and the mist was just making things unbearably humid. Even days when the clouds had cleared out for a bit, the smog was still there. Hanging around like a stuffy blanket, smothering the city. Choking out the sky. It was hard to see the stars in Gotham. Danny wished he could just fly up over the city, out of the fog and the haze. Just to hang in the clear air and stargaze. Lose himself in the star speckled universe and forget things for a while. But he couldn’t. That would be stupid. As much as he wanted to. As much as he felt like he needed to.

He needed to stay low profile. Use his powers sparingly. Carefully. Gotham had quite a lot of natural ectoplasm. Not anywhere near as much as Amity, but… well. Amity. It was enough to hide his ecto-signature, so long as he didn't go overboard. A bit of invisibility or intangibility was fine. Stuff like that didn't use enough power to show up on ghost hunting equipment at anything but point blank range, and if someone got that close he was in trouble anyway. In theory, flying didn't use much power either, but he couldn’t risk it. Not above building height anyway. Who knew what kind of crazy radar or lidar or whatever was scanning Gotham’s airspace. Batman seemed paranoid like that.

So he was stuck at ground level. Which, at the moment, meant lying in bed in his stuffy, dingy apartment, with his shirt sticking to his skin, and trying to figure out how to get a job. Thank God or the ancients or whoever was listening for Sam and Tuck. Without them, he wouldn’t be able to do that either. Wouldn’t be able to lay here on his cheap mattress and think about the awful weather, and the gloom, and how much he wanted to go flying. The apartment, and what little spending money he had at the moment, was from Sam. She’d apparently been setting aside money for years, building up an emergency fund in case something happened. She’d paid for the little apartment for a few months in advance, so he had some time to figure out what he was going to do next. The funds were going to run out eventually though, and he needed a way to make money on his own. Fortunately, he had ID, courtesy of Tucker. Very good, very fake ID, that absolutely did not say he was Danny Fenton from amity park. ID with just enough of a background and personal history attached to it to get him an apartment, and hopefully pass muster for a job interview. He also had a phone! A phone he could use to look for a job, and order food, and navigate through the labyrinth that was Gotham city without getting hopelessly lost. A phone that was subscribed to BATWATCH and the Gotham Emergency Alert System, so he could stay as far out of the way of the local vigilantes and their rogues as possible. A phone he didn't dare contact Sam or Tucker or Jazz with, in case someone was watching to see if he tried. He didn't know what he’d do without them.

Without them, he probably wouldn’t have made it out of Amity Park at all. He didn't want to think about that. The weather wasn’t the only off putting thing about the city either. Something kept almost, but not quite triggering his ghost sense. Whatever it was, it was weak. Very weak. Barely even a buzz above the background noise of the city’s own ectoplasm. But whatever it was felt… wrong. Wrong in a subtle, crawling sort of way.

He didn't want to think about that either.

So. A job. He didn't qualify for a whole lot. Couldn’t go for anything fancy, or anything that would look too far into his background. Which meant he was probably stuck with manual labor, food service, or retail. Or… well. Crime. This was Gotham. But he wanted to avoid that unless he got really, really desperate. Manual labor was probably out. He was more than strong enough in theory, but unfortunately he looked like a twig. Most people would probably take one look at him and laugh him off. And if the skinny twink started lifting things like he had super strength, it would get him labeled as a meta at the very least. Or worse. He’d made a list of stores and restaurants near his apartment to look into. A few of them were hiring, but he wasn’t sure being a cashier or shelf stocker was such a good idea. The idea of spending his entire work day under a camera made him nervous. Cameras tended to glitch out around him. It would be fine for a few minutes at a time as long as he was in human form, but the longer he stayed in the frame the worse the system would bug out. Somebody would notice that they were only glitching around him eventually, especially if they kept having the same problem even when they were replaced. And if someone was looking for the distinctive kind of anomalies that ghosts tended to produce on film, he may as well just paint a target on his back.

And someone was looking.

So. He needed a job that would keep him off camera as much as possible, that wouldn’t require lifting things he shouldn’t be able to, that didn't require any special skills or degrees, and that wouldn’t do too thorough of a background check. And that was legal. Hopefully. He was thinking of trying to do delivery. It had its own problems. For one thing, he didn't have a car. Or a bike. The bike he could get, he had enough money for that. But Gothem wasn’t the most cyclist friendly of places even if he could avoid getting it stolen. He could get around on his own fine, even without using his powers much. If he was willing to run rooftops, he could probably manage just as well if not better than any car could in the city traffic. But he didn't think that would go over well in a job interview. And there were other people running roofs in Gotham. People he’d really prefer to avoid. He hadn’t been able to think of much else he could do though. It was frustrating.

He wanted to fly. He couldn’t risk it.

Danny groaned. It was way too hot to be thinking about this tonight. He wanted to just roll over in bed and sleep, and leave worrying about the future for the morning or whenever he woke up, but it was too hot for that too. He had showered before bed, but he already felt sticky and unpleasant in the humid, slightly musty air of his tiny apartment. So he was left tossing and turning around trying to get comfortable on the crappy mattress, and trying NOT to think about why he had to be here at all. Which wasn’t working. He needed something to do. Lying here trying to sleep wasn’t doing him any good. It was just too warm.

He needed a fan.

He probably should have gotten one already to be honest. Danny just hadn't thought about it when he’d done the bare bones shopping for stuff to put in his apartment a few days ago. He did have money left over, and it’s not like it would be expensive, he could get one. Maybe there was somewhere close by that was open late enough to visit. Getting out of the apartment might clear his head, and it wasn’t like he had something better to do. He pulled out his phone. A quick google search showed a 24h CVS relatively close by. It would take him a while to get there on foot though. The mattress made a testy sound as Danny pulled himself off the floor, and then stood up and walked to the window. The low clouds outside were stained a muddy orange color by the city lights, but it wasn’t raining. The forecast had said it wouldn’t, but he wasn’t sure he trusted the weather report here yet. He looked up at the roof of the building next door. He hadn’t actually tested his theory about being able to move around faster above street level. He should probably give it a try to see if his delivery idea would even work. Checking BATWATCH showed no vigilante sightings so far, and there hadn’t been any emergency alerts tonight. He’d probably be fine going out roof running for a bit. He went to get his shoes.

_______________________________________

Patrol had been quiet. Oddly so. Jason didn’t like quiet. Quiet should be good. Quiet meant things were calm for once. Meant Red Hood didn't have to start breaking kneecaps to remind people that his turf was supposed to stay quiet. Crime alley was never what anyone would call peaceful, and it never stayed calm for long, but tonight had been unusually violence free. It made something in him itch. He wanted to think it was just the heat wave. It had hardly seemed to cool down at all the last few nights. The whole city had slowed down in the muggy heat, including the less upstanding citizens. Nobody wanted to be out dealing with this any more than necessary. But if there was anything that Jason had learned in all the time he’d spent in the city, it was that Gotham didn’t do quiet. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But things were still going easier than usual. Most of the usual suspects were still in Arkham, (for now) the gangs were lying low, (for now) Batman was staying out of Jason's business, (for once) and everyone else was too damn miserable to bother making trouble. Jason hated it. He needed to do something. Needed to fight. Needed to move. Needed something to take his mind off Bruce, and the pit, and how damn quiet everything was being. He felt like that a lot, these days. Like he was trying to crawl out of his own skin. He could probably go on coms. Probably should go on coms. Ask if anyone else had found anything, or if they needed help. He could ask if Tim had made any progress on his case, or if Dick needed any help patrolling Bludhaven. He could just ask if someone wanted to get a burger with him. But somehow, he just... couldn't. Part of him just didn’t want to deal with them tonight. Not when he was already frustrated and cranky, and the pit was a whisper away from rousing. Not when they knew he was frustrated, and would be watching him from the corner of their eye the whole night, waiting for it to happen.

He didn’t think he could deal with that right now. Not with the way things had been going.

They probably didn’t have anything more interesting to do tonight than he did anyway. He did want that burger though. He had barely eaten before going out on his rounds, and that had been a while ago. And his gear was uncomfortably warm. He wanted a shower. Somewhat reluctantly, he started heading back towards his closest safehouse. No point in staying out just to be miserable. He might as well change into civies and go get something to eat. Jason grappled through the alley behind the place, dropped down onto the fire escape, and crawled in the window. He made sure to re-arm the traps and alarms behind him before moving deeper into the room though. He still felt on edge, and he wasn’t about to be careless, no matter how quiet it seemed.

Talking the damn helmet off felt wonderful. Peeling off his gear and climbing into a cold shower felt even better. He stood there for a while, letting the water cool him off, and tried not to think about anything in particular. It didn't work all that well.

Eventually, he managed to shut off the water, and dragged himself out of the shower to grab some fresh clothes. He did feel better now that he was clean and somewhat cool, but he still felt restless. He needed a distraction. And that burger. Jason sat down on the lumpy couch, and started lacing up his boots. It might be nice to go for a ride. Something icy cold ran up his spine. One of his alarms beeped. There was someone on the roof.

That wasn’t necessarily concerning. Lots of people could be found on the roofs in Gotham. Especially in the Bowery and Crime Alley. They were often safer than the streets, and plenty of folks used them to get around, especially the kids. And this building was almost empty, except for him. It was unlikely someone was attempting to break in. There were other reasons someone might be up there though. His building was higher than most in the area.

There had been... problems, before.

He checked his cameras. There was a young, scrawny looking guy with black hair standing near the edge of the roof, overlooking the street. Not encouraging.

Jason shivered again, feeling cold for a moment, in spite of the hot night air

He got up and headed for the stairs. _______________________________________ Running across the roofs felt nice. Nicer than slowly stewing in his room anyway. It felt nice enough that after a while, Danny had kind of stopped keeping track of where he was. He thought he was still going in the general direction of the CVS, but he wasn't sure exactly where he was relative to it. That was fine. He didn’t mind exploring, and the air out here was a bit fresher and cooler than it had been inside. He wanted to wander for a while. He’d never actually done this kind of free-running before. Amity park hadn’t been big or dense enough for it. It was kind of neat. He’d been trying to see how much he could do without using any of his powers to help. So far, it was hard enough that he had worked up a light sweat, and complicated enough to keep his mind off other things. He paused for a bit to catch his breath on a building that stuck up a few stories above the surrounding roofs. It had a view down one of the busier streets in the area, and he took a minute to look out over the city.

There were so many lights here. Way, way more than there had been back home. Streetlights and traffic lights and lights from the buildings. Cars and businesses and apartments, and the looming constellations of the towers downtown. Yet somehow, the city still felt darker than it should have. Gloom and shadows clinging to the space between lights like it was trying to snuff them out. It was pretty. In a slightly ominous, chilling kind of way. He shivered a bit. It almost looked like stars. “You ok up here buddy?”

Danny almost jumped out of his skin. It took a moment of concentration to make sure he actually came back down from said jump, instead of floating off the roof, and a moment longer to realize the embarrassingly high pitched yelping noise that he'd just heard had come from him. “Woah woah sorry!! I didn't mean to scare you!” Said the very concerned sounding man on the roof behind him. The man who had just snuck up on him. On Danny. The half ghost with super hearing. How the hell “Good God warn a guy! You scared the life outta me!” Danny sucked in a deep breath as he turned to look back across the roof, and oh dear lord he’s built like a tank pleasedontthrowmeoffthebuilding No one that big should be that sneaky. It went against several laws of nature. And possibly physics. The dude looked like he might be taller than Da- than Jack Fenton, and almost as buff. And kinda hot. And surprisingly contrite looking. “Sorry.” The guy winced a little, raising his hands slightly. “Bad habit. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.” He shuffled his feet a bit while Danny tried to get his heart rate back down to normal levels, (well, normal for him) and Danny caught him glancing down at something behind him. “What are you doing up here man?” “Ah, sorry! I can leave! I didn't mean to trespass or anything I was just… I needed to get out of my apartment and it was cooler out here and it seemed safer up here than down on the streets” And Danny was rambling. Great. He was probably trespassing on this dude’s roof, he sounded like a lunatic, and he was pretty sure that was a gun hiding under his shirt. “I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble!” Tank-Man waved him off. “Hey no, no it’s ok. Lots of people use the roofs in the alley. It’s more common than you’d think.” (The Alley. Danny had wandered into Crime Alley. he was on a roof with an armed guy in Crime Alley.) He didn't really look like he was gonna shoot him though. In fact he looked very concerned. “So you’re just out for some air? No other reason?” And he kept glancing behind Danny, and… oh. Yeah. He was standing on the edge of the roof, on the tallest building in the area. Shit. “Oh, no. Nothing, nothing’s wrong. Well, I mean there’s plenty wrong but nothing like…” he should just step away from the edge. Yeah. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking about how that looked.” He took a few steps towards the middle of the roof. “I just, needed to get out and stop thinking about stuff for a while.” Tank-guy relaxed a bit, and Danny did too. “Yeah, I hear ya. Couldn’t sleep?” “Too hot. No AC and I don’t have a fan yet.” “Oof, yeah. Rough.” He looked Danny over for a second. “You new in the area? You don’t sound like you’re from Gotham.” Danny answered without thinking about it to hard. He had a tuft of bright white hair. Oddly familiar white hair. “Yeah, just moved in a few days ago.” “Ah, bad timing then. Heat’s been brutal this week.” He looked sympathetic. “It’s not normally this bad” Oh shoot, he'd been starring. “Well, that’s nice to hear.” Danny looked back out over the city, hoping that he wasn’t coming across as awkward as he felt. There was a brief pause. Mission failed. Way to go Danny. “Where’ you from?” Shit. That was not on Danny’s list of safe small talk. “Uh, I moved from out of state. Nowhere important.” Please don’t ask. No luck. The guy looked even more curious now. “Why’d you move to Gotham ?”“I, uh…” Danny faltered. “It… seemed like a change of pace.” He got an incredulous look and a chuckle for that. “Change of pace.” he almost looked impressed. “Yeah that’s a change all right.” Yeah Danny probably deserved that. “I just… I needed to get away from… stuff back home.” A lot of stuff back home. Stuff he’d been trying not to think about. “I was looking for a fresh start.” The roof went quiet for a moment. When Danny glanced back over at the guy, he found him watching him. He had pretty eyes. For a moment, he looked uncomfortably analytical, like he was figuring Danny out. Then he just looked kind of sad. “Yeah. I guess it’s good for that.” Danny’s stomach growled. Loudly. The guy’s eyebrows went up, and Danny felt like he might have died of embarrassment if it hadn't already been too late for that.

“Sorry.” He was apologizing a lot, wasn’t he? “I forgot dinner.” He had technically forgotten lunch too. And breakfast. He didn't actually need to eat as often as most people, and it was easy to ignore hunger for a while when he was busy. It tended to sneak up on him.

There had been other things on his mind for the last few days.

… “You want a burger?” “Uh” Very articulate Danny. “What?” “A burger. I missed dinner too. There’s a place down the street.” Ok wait. Time out. Going somewhere with the hot dude who had snuck up on him on a roof was not in the plan tonight. He was hungry though. Danny hesitated. His stomach growled again. Roof Guy looked amused. Danny let out a breath. Might as well just roll with it. “Sure. Why not.” Took another breath, and held out a hand. “My name’s Danny, by the way” Roof guy smiled, and shook it. “Jason.” _______________________________________ Jason quietly opened the access door to the roof, and stepped out into the muggy night air.

The possible intruder was standing on the edge nearest the street, looking concerningly melancholy. He did a quick threat assessment. Small. He had a surprising amount of muscle for looking so thin, but probably not physically a match for Jason in a fight. No weapons he could see. Looked about Jason’s age, with short, unruly black hair. Dressed in worn jeans and a NASA t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. Looked like he’d seen better days in general. Definitely didn't look like a burglar. “You ok up here buddy?”

And the guy on the roof very nearly fell off the roof, and Jason flinched and tensed to lunge forward and catch him. “Woah woah sorry!! I didn't mean to scare you!” He must be more off his game tonight than he thought! He should know better than to startle somebody like that. Bruce had taught them better He had been trained to make noise around civilians, especially ones who were standing on the edge of roofs, Jason!!! “Good God warn a guy! You scared the life outta me!” The man, who had fortunately not fallen off the roof, pulled in a deep breath and turned to look nervously at Jason. Up close, he looked even scrawnier. Like a light breeze could pick him up and blow him away. He also looked like he hadn't slept in a week. It wasn’t quite Tim levels of bad, but there were still dark circles under his eyes.

He was also eyeing Jason like he was afraid he was gonna tackle him. Not an unreasonable assumption in Crime Alley.“Sorry.” Jason said. He raised his hands a bit and tried to look relatively non-threatening. “Bad habit. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.” He was still standing way, way too close to the edge of the roof for Jason’s comfort. “Ah, sorry! I can leave!” The stranger started stammering. “I didn't mean to trespass or anything I was just… I needed to get out of my apartment and it was cooler out here and it seemed safer up here than down on the streets. I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble!” “Hey no, no it’s ok. Lots of people use the roofs in the alley. It’s more common than you’d think.” It was. Just not on his roof. Climbing up here from the nearby buildings was a bit out of the way for someone just getting around. “So you’re just out for some air? No other reason?” He didn’t seem like he was here to do something drastic, but he still wanted to get him a bit farther from the edge. He still looked nervous, but the question seemed to confuse him a bit. Then he seemed to realize where Jason had been looking, and he suddenly looked alarmed instead. “Oh, no. Nothing, nothing’s wrong. Well, I mean” He paused a bit, and looked worryingly strained. “There's plenty wrong but nothing like… Sorry. Wasn’t thinking about how that looked.” He finally took a few hurried steps away from the edge, looking like he was trying to reassure Jason that he wasn’t gonna fall, or jump, off. “I just, needed to get out and stop thinking about stuff for a while.” And wow, yeah, he looked tired. “Yeah, I hear ya.” Jason could relate. He’d just been looking for a distraction, any distraction, to avoid thinking about his own problems. Looks like he’d found one. “Couldn’t sleep?” Roof man sagged a bit, somehow looking even more miserable. “Too hot. No AC and I don’t have a fan yet.” “Oof, yeah. Rough.” Jason had been slowly melting all day and he had a fan.

He took a moment to look the stranger over. He didn't think he’d ever seen him before, but something about him seemed oddly familiar. Some faint feeling of de'javu. Maybe it was the hair and the eyes, which, yeah. They were blue. Oh boy. He didn’t seem like he was familiar with the area though. There was something about his accent… “You new in the area?” He guessed. “You don’t sound like you’re from Gotham.” “Yeah, just moved in a few days ago.” “Ah, bad timing then. Heat’s been brutal this week. It’s not normally this bad.” And Jason was going on about the weather now, because he was clearly a master of small talk. “Well, that’s nice to hear.” The guy looked away awkwardly. Great. “Where’ you from?” That was a bad question, apparently. He was looking nervous again. “Uh, I moved from out of state.” His feet shuffled on the roof gravel. “Nowhere important.” Sounded like he was a ways from home. Maybe even from a small town. That had to be one hell of a culture shock, moving to any big city, let alone this one. “Why’d you move to Gotham ?”

“I, uh…” He seemed unsure how to answer that. “It… seemed like a change of pace.” “Change of pace.” Gotham? Really? “Yeah that’s a change all right.”

A wry look crossed the guy’s face at that. But then it shifted again, and he was looking back out over the city. “I just…” He stopped. Gathered himself for a moment. “ I needed to get away from… stuff back home. I was looking for a fresh start.” He sounded so, so tired. A fresh start. Yeah, Gotham could be that, if you were tough enough to survive here. Lots of people who came to Gotham were running from something. “Yeah. I guess it’s good for that.”

He wondered what this kid was running from. God. A scrawny, black haired, blue eyed kid down on his luck, with a mysterious past. He could never let Bruce see him, he'd be adopted on the spot. The stranger’s stomach growled. Jason raised his eyebrows, and the guys ears turned red. He smiled sheepishly, and chuckled. “Sorry. I forgot dinner.” That was… concerning. He didn't look like he should be missing meals. Well. Jason had been hungry. “You want a burger?” “Uh” He looked startled for a second. It was kind of cute “What?” “A burger. I missed dinner too. There’s a place down the street.” His stomach growled a second time, and the ears went even redder. Definitely cute.

Jason watched him debate something for a moment, and then his expression turned wry again. “Sure. Why not.” He turned fully towards Jason, and held out a hand. “My name’s Danny, by the way” He grinned, and shook it “Jason.” Danny’s hand was Ice cold.

#current hyper fixation #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfic #jason todd #red hood #batman #dc #crossover #halfa!! jason todd #liminal! jason todd #ao3 #gotham #au #first fic ever be nice but also feel free to roast me #dead on main

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kittyball23 · 4 months

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Birthday Teen (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Not-so-baby-anymore Branch's 13th birthday is not all that it's cut out to be...

A/N: Got inspired to write two more oneshots over the Christmas weekend. Here's the first, a follow-up to Birthday Boy

__________________________________________

Near silence filled the space.

There was no laughter. There were no shrieks. There were no rambunctious squabbles or playful shenanigans. Not even a silly, improvised tune. There was just Branch, his bunker, and his sole cupcake.

It was a stark contrast to the scene that it was for this very occasion twelve years ago. To the fun that existed then, when things were simpler and he would hold no concerns for tomorrow. Back then, he didn’t have to grow up so fast. He could enjoy his time in diapers, clapping his small hands and giggling with delight. He could play with his brothers, enjoy the warm hugs from his grandmother, and sing to his heart's content, all without a worry in the world.

Back then, when there weren't any problems to be solved, and Branch knew nothing of the hardships the future would bring for him.

But this wasn't like that now.

It was never going to be like that again.

At least, not the way he saw it.

With a sigh he prodded at the rich, vanilla icing on the cupcake in front of him and watched the frosting indent.

Branch scrunched his nose, a feeling of disgust welling inside of him. He'd lost his taste for cupcakes long ago. They were far too sugary, and in the end didn't provide the appropriate nutrients that were needed to sustain a healthy diet. Nowadays, such a thing was critical, if it meant ensuring his survival. Because, unlike before, he had nobody else to ensure of it.

But, he had gone through the trouble of baking the treat, and it was not trouble he would've gone through without anything to gain in return. Every minute he took with every task he performed was a spent effort.

With a hint of reluctance, and a hint of longing, he unwrapped the confection from its paper covering, and brought it up to his lips. The taste melted sweetly against his tongue and left behind a myriad of flavors. It was simple but elegant. No extravagance or excess. Just what he needed in such a time.

Inhaling deeply, Branch closed his eyes. He savored the sweetness, marveling at how closely he had hit home with his Grandma's recipe and wondering that, if his brothers had been there, perhaps they wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.

Trouble was, they weren't there, and had not been for quite some time…

They weren't there for when he'd hit his 3 inch milestone in height, or when he'd become fully potty trained, or when he'd had his first day of school, or when his voice had deepened, or whenever ANY little thing that was important to him had happened. Their absence was a constant ache in his chest that only intensified day after day, year after year, paining him to realize that he couldn't see his brothers as the young men that they were sure to be now... and that they couldn't see him for the one that he was becoming.

Dismay pricked Branch like a thorn.

It wasn't fair. It was completely unfair. He loathed the solitude. The bunker that lacked the very trolls for whom he built it for. His sickeningly sweet cupcake, mocking him with its perfection.

He chewed the last few morsels he was willing to eat away, savoring the flavor, before setting down the unfinished treat on the table and pushing it aside.

This is the worst birthday yet.

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #brozone #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #brodacious fanfiction

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tytarax · 3 months

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Dance of the Damned

Shit…

It was the first thing that _____ thought. She was so blinded by the hatred she had for Adam that she forgot one of the most important rules that limited her.

Don't kill souls

And now she was in trouble with one of the most important beings in heaven, Michael.

(A/N: The angel Michael in this fanfic is inspired by the same angel Miguel from sandranetta_13, you can find her on IG, here is a reference image)

Charlie: Uh… _____ are you okay?

_____: What? Ah…yeah…just…I have to go now. Bye!

Noticing the tone of concern in _____'s voice, they tried to call her, but she ignored it, picked up Ghostie, opened a portal to her house, left Ghostie there, changed her clothes putting on her black suit, and proceeded to go to heaven.

Arriving there, Saint Peter received her again, asking her the reason for her unexpected visit.

_____: I have an emergency meeting

Peter let her pass, _____ flew through the city to reach the most exclusive place faster, a place unattainable by any other mortal soul, the 7th heaven, where the greatest of the great were found.

Finally arriving at a golden palace, with gigantic doors, _____ was about to knock on the door and...

“You can come in, my daughter.”

The Almighty already knew that she was there, he knew everything.

____ went to the room, where she found God himself, on his right side was Jesus Christ with his always humble and loving face, and on the opposite side was the archangel Michael, with his serious and perhaps a little angry face.

_____ made a slight bow and sat in her respective chair, prepared for what was to come.

Michael: Well, do you have any explanation?

____: I…-

Michael: I remind you that you and I have a deal, you can handle the souls in purgatory as you wish as long as you don't touch the souls that are in heaven or hell. We know of your obvious hatred towards Adam, the first man, but can't you have a little respect for our Lord?

Jesus: Michael, let her speak.

_____: I have an explanation, but at the same time a question. It is assumed that, with all due respect, the Almighty is the one who gives me the authority to take lives, and only he can give them. I don't know if it is a different rule for souls, but Adam has been going to hell every year with an army of exorcist angels to murder sinners... And if he had had permission, you had informed me and-

Michael: What- what was that last thing? Adam and an army of exterminating angels?

_____: Yes… didn't you know?

Michael gave a confused look at his Lord, who was silent, but still with his smile.

_____: My Lord… you knew that, right?

“That's right, you know I see everything.”

_____: And why did you allow it? That is not fair

“You know perfectly well that I allow things for a reason. You're right, Adam and Sera had no right to carry out those exterminations, but if I allowed it, it's for a reason."

_____: Which reason?

“You will soon discover it, for now, you can withdraw. Michael, you two talk and resolve your conflict.”

Miguel: Yes, my Lord. Would you also allow me to talk to Sera?

"Yes"

_____: It has been a pleasure to see you again, I will be going now. – She said giving a bow.

---

Michael and ____ left the palace and prepared to go where the seraphim were, along the way, they started to chat a bit.

Michael: I found out that you have been in hell for a while...

_____: Yes… I know I shouldn't, since some might think I have a preference, but I was… doing some favors…

Michael: And how is it… you know who…

_____: You mean Lu-

Michael: Don't say it.

_____: Michael... I know it still hurts you, but you can't let the past make the present bitter... he is your brother... and not just any brother, he is your twin... even though you have taken the height of both of you.

Michael: It's not that easy, you should understand it

_____: I should but I don't, I don't have a blood family Michael. I literally existed out of nowhere, and if there is something I have learned from millennia and millennia of humans, it is that no matter how far away they are, brothers always will be brothers...

Michael: He betrayed us

By that time, they had already arrived at the city where Sera was along with her younger sister Emily.

_____: If he had not done it, humanity would not have known the greatest example of love... think about that...

Michael remained silent, he opened the door for _____ to enter, and she froze as soon as she entered.

...

_____: Pentious!?

Sir Pentious was... in heaven, but with a different appearance... pure white with golden details, he still had his red pupils and fangs, but he looked... redeemed.

Sir Pentious: Um... hello.

_____: I can't believe it, it works!

Emily was very happy, jumping all over the place, while Sera had a “Shit, it works” face.

_____: I have to go, Charlie has to know this

Before _____ left, she felt a grab on her wrist, she turned around and it was Michael.

Michael: Wait a moment – he said as something appeared in his hand – here.

Michael extended his hand towards her and handed her a small golden box.

_____: What… what is this? – She said while she opened the box and from it, she took out a beautiful necklace with a luminous pendant.

Michael: You don't think I forgot your “birthday”

_____: I almost forgot about it myself!... but what is it?

Michael: A fragment of the Christmas star…

_____: Wow Michael, thank you!

Emily: It's your birthday, ____!? Let me... - Emily concentrated on her hands, while they began to shine and out of nowhere a flower never before seen by human eyes appeared - ready! I'm learning to create flowers! Happy Birthday!

_____: Wow, thanks Emily! It's beautiful!

After saying goodbye to her, she opened a portal straight to hell, passed through it, and as she approached the now-improved hotel, she put the necklace around her neck and the flower behind her ear.

She knocked on the hotel door and was greeted by an Alastor in very good condition, except for his shirt which was torn from the attack he had received from Adam.

Alastor: It's good to see you, dearest! Everyone had been wondering where you were.

_____: I had to settle some issues, but everything is fine now. Oh, allow me - she said as she snapped her fingers repairing Alastor's shirt.

Alastor: Why thank you, darling! Although you didn't have to.

_____: It's not a problem, now... where is Charlie, I have to tell her something.

Alastor: Come in dear. Charlie is in the living.

_____ ran into the room, drawing the attention of those present.

Lucifer: _____, where were you!?

_____: That doesn't matter, what's really important is that...

Your project works, Charlie!

@lofasofabread

@randomgurl2326

@22carolina08

@luleck

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fem reader #death reader #Alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust

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lucid-ivory · 7 months

Text

COD men & equestrian reader

characters: ghost, soap, gaz, price & alejandro X female reader

genre: fluff, platonic, slight crack?

format: bullet headcanons/ bullet fanfic idk

summary: one of the operators of the task force seems to be *too* good at horse riding and it's the last thing they expected

notes: reader is young, this is for all the equestrians if there are any in this fandom😭 and characters may be a bit ooc + this is very long and VERY specific

ghost

has never ridden horses, wasn't planning on it

saw you as somebody interesting when he first saw you on a big horse

you seemed really confident so he just went along with it

little did he know

he was gangsta until you started cantering

like okay, maybe you just wanted to impress your teammates since everyone was watching

he knows shit about position, leg aids and all that so you could be doing anything wrong and he wouldn't realize

he slightly raises his eyebrows when he sees you approaching a big ass jump

like where u goin?????

it's one of those 1.30m oxers

he thinks you're taking it too far

he was already impressed by your skills, why would you jump that high

he's prepared to see you on the ground

obviously a horse goes faster the higher the jump is

the fact that you keep up with the animal is already making him feel like "huh?"

when he sees the horsey getting on his two legs and ready to jump he feels humbled

you're perfectly fine, you can keep up with the horse's speed and you seem proud of yourself

by this point it's already obvious that it wasn't your first time

now that he sees your confidence and level, he would like to see you jumping higher

he doesn't really know how high a horse can jump anyway

(for general knowledge, the record is 2,47meters)

after a few more small and bigger jumps, you go for one that's 1.50m

(which is usually the height of competitions)

you do it casually, enjoying the moment. the horse jumps well and looks sick as fuck, which equestrians call "scope"

so you yell out

"SCOPEY!"

smiling all wide and happy

he mishears it and thinks you're talking about somebody scoping with a sniper or something

everything is going smooth, the horse listens to you and you are humiliating many olympic riders because you are "y/n" and y/n is perfect

the horse is fast, very fast and you're going for the next jump again

but who is y/n without a bit of trouble

the horse refuses to jump, stopping abruptly right in front of the obstacle

but you stayed on because you're cool like that

it did "shake" you a little, you were preparing yourself for a jump after all

but your seat is great and you managed to control the horse

ghost was scared, not expecting the animal to stop at that speed

you knocked a few poles and he offered to put them back for you

you're a crazy bitch so you decided to ride a young horse

and young horses are sometimes spicy

bucking, rearing or getting scared for everything

he's surprised at how calm you look when the horse is like a bull around the arena

when you finally lose your balance and fall off, you manage to fall smoothly on your feet

he's scared, thought you were going to be hurt

"DID YOU SEE THAT?"

how were you so calm?

you just fell off

the horse is still bucking around the arena and you're laughing

soap

i have 0 idea of scottish dialect

in fact i cannot understand it if a scottish person speaks to me so this will be hard

soap is next to ghost, he sees you jumping

you know the position riders do in order to jump? almost standing up and bending over the horse's neck

he checks you out for a milisecond when you do that

apart from that, he's impressed

why are you flying

how are you keeping yourself on the animal with only two irons on your feet and holding some leather in your hands

get down from there

you're just smiling while casually jumping 1.50m

when the horse stopped in front of the jump, he almost screamed

"shit"

he just murmured

smirked when he saw how you stayed on

gg well played

ghost put the poles up for you again after you knocked them down and smiles slightly as you struggle to convince the horse to jump

great horsemanship, or horsewomanship

you let the horse approach the jump and smell it so they calm down

he has no idea what's going on but he thinks you're very gentle for that

eventually you make it over that jump and he feels very happy for you!

then you fall off and he thinks it's badass how you fell on your feet

STANDING UP

so you get on again

when you're done jumping and you're trotting around, you want to show off

"did you see that, Lt?" he asks Ghost, and he simply nods.

while trotting, you play a little bit with the horse's controls

WASD to move shift to crouch ctrl to run ,,, jk

you start doing little dressage tricks

those ones that look so elegant and the horse is almost dancing

passage, piaffe, etc (look that up, it's BEAUTIFUL).

the horse is so cutely and smoothly bouncing and you're embracing the elegance

this is all probably happening while you're in your spec ops gear but it's okay

soap is surprised, ghost next to him simply admires

"why is the horse doin' that?"

he thinks it's pretty, but why and how would a horse move like that

"oh, you're telling him to do that?"

then he realizes you're the one using your legs and amazing skills to make the horse do all that

would like to see you in the classic equestrian competition look

gaz

okay what the fuck

he now understands where all of your leg & core strength is coming from

mans is flabbergasted but secretly wants to keep looking at you

i headcanon that he did ride horses in one of those school trips maybe or something of sorts

and i don’t think he would want to do it again

when you’re about to fall at that speed in front of the jump he’s a bit scared for you, immediately feeling the relief when you’re still on and not on the ground

when you actually do fall but it’s obvious you didn’t get hurt he simply smiles

he knew it was going to happen

but then you got on the horse again and he was like ???

why?

he appreciates your enthusiasm but visibly relaxes when you stop jumping and you stick to a more slow pace

“are you trying to impress us?”

girl you were in full uniform geared up & everything and you casually made the horse do the most complex and supreme movements that literally any other rider would kill for

you DID NOT do that for your own pleasure

gaz did appreciate a little bit more the horse’s posture

y’know ‘collection’ and all that, when the horse walks all pretty with their head down

he was not as clueless as soap and that’s why he teased you

you simply giggled and he smiled in response

now…

why was the horse drifting how did you do that

the horse was casually trotting but you did a few subtle changes (that he didn’t see) and now the horse trots in diagonal

almost crossing his feet while trotting

HOW

he raises his eyebrows

he thinks that this is a useless trait for a soldier cuz i’m telling you no police horse does cute little steps like wth

but even if it’s a useless trait for a soldier, it’s a great ability for who he considers almost a sister

he’s very happy for you and constantly cheers you up and then may ask a question or two about how did you do that

the moment you start explaining technically with all the “WELL YOU PUT YOUR OUTSIDE LEG AND THEN THE HEAD HAS TO LOOK SLIGHTLY INTO THE INSIDE WITHOUT BENDING THE NECK—“ he gets scared

he thought it was easier

+10 appreciation because it really is hard

price

let me tell you this man is almost shaking

he trusts your skills but he knows you're also young and you may not act responsible in order to just feel adrenaline or to impress somebody

while you jump, he holds his breath and then he releases it when you actually land perfectly

just like gaz, he relaxes a lot when you stick to the slower pace

he loves to see your reflexes in other contexts, such as riding

very proud of how you fell on your feet when the horse was bucking but appreciated it even more when you actually wanted to get on again

since this man is older i think he would have ridden horses in his golden era but not as in equitation, more like simply going for trail rides

he considers everyone in the team his little siblings, and since you appeared he may have this father instinct

he helps you with the stirrups and to tighten the girth

loves seeing you happy while riding, he thinks you deserve it knowing how young you are and how easier it is for you to get stressed with all the work

he tells everybody not to approach the horse's back because they may kick

"the horse has a green ribbon on his tail. he's young" he explains proudly to the rest of the team

(he didn't know shit about this, you told him about the ribbon meanings a while ago)

I HAVE THIS FEELING THAT HE WOULD RECORD YOU AND ACCIDENTALLY GET HIS FINGER ON THE CAMERA

this man would probably ride with you

"i don't need a saddle, i'm used to riding bareback"

he does need a saddle.

i feel like if he rides with you and he trots or something he would slightly hurt his back because his position wouldn't really be great

(there was a time where my back hurt like hell too because i didn't know how to canter properly LMAO)

would count strides with you between each jump

i feel like he would like english thoroughbreds

man worships secretariat probably (he'd be so real for that)

jockey potential

don't talk to him about technique

he genuinely thinks it's stressing

the whole "outside rein inside leg, shoulders back, chin up, heels down" shit is very much complex to him

he actually thinks that he would be able to race a horse

can't lie, i think so too (i almost fall while walking)

would pat the horse when you stand next to him

when you dismount, if you are the kind of person that kinda just throws themselves off the horse (i have no idea how to gently and normally dismount) he'll be behind you to slightly grab your waist or back to keep you in place in case you lose balance

ALL PLATONIC

when you're done riding he offers to keep you company while you go to the horses stall

he thinks the horse is following you because you're not holding the reins or anything and he's surprised at the bond between you and the animal

he doesn't know that YOU are actually following the horse because he just wants to go to his stall and eat

when the horsey starts eating, price would approach him and look at him

would be startled when the horse has his ears laying flat on his skull

horsey doesn't want anybody near his food

would help you carry the saddle

if he's brave enough he will try and give a carrot to the horse

if you start picking the hooves after riding, he would be slightly concerned

"does this hurt the horse"

he is like a man proud of his daughter

100% would go to see you in competitions

alejandro

GRRRRRRRR

"vamos, vaquera!"

he would constantly try to cheer you up and would smile widely while you do your "little" jumps

would probably prefer western riding because y'know... los vaqueros

he would probably crush on you a little

i feel like he saw showjumping many times but he is still surprised to see a horse jumping that high in person

i think he's almost the only one that isn't scared when he sees you jumping. if you approach the big jumps so confidently then you know what you're doing

he would actually want to ride with you too, he's so excited

wants to feel like a true vaquero and the first step is riding a horse

i'm sure he focuses on your legs and sees the aids and cues you give to the horse to make different tricks or play with his speed

he looks at your posture and everything like he knows about it or something

he's the kind of person that would surprise you

horses tend to follow each other so whatever you do with your horse, his horse does it with him.

you look back at him when you are both cantering and you smile AT HOW GOOD HE IS

his hips sway back and forth smoothly following the horse's back

his lower leg moves a little but nothing too serious

you felt like he was really close to jumping the 1.50 and reveal he was a showjumper too or something

and the rest of the team didn't expect alejandro to be so good either

you lower the jumps to like 0.50m and you both try to jump

he doesn't jump it perfectly, but he doesn't fall either

impressive for a beginner

trust me he did try to ride your horse and do the same dressage tricks as you but it didn't really work

quickly dismounted after that, he saw the horse bucking and doesn't wanna fall off

after that, i feel like he would get more interested in barrel racing and other western disciplines

he wants to take off the helmet and ride with those cowboy hats.

(saveahorserideacowboy)

you don't let him do that

dangerous D:

he appreciates it, thinks you care a lot for him

he thinks riding together is a new form of bonding for you two.

that was long, i warned all of you

please remember that my requests are open and i'd love to see and write what anyone says!

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

Text

Adoration

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem. Reader

Summary : You and Aemond have gotten married, and are off for your wedding night. How will it go for you both?

Themes : Soft | Slow burn | Smut

Word count : 5.4k words

Minors DNI | 18+

Translation:

Kēlītsos - Kitten

This is the final one-shot of three separate fanfics, this time featuring Aemond. I’ve changed several things, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

All eyes were on you and your husband, some staring so intently you could feel holes being burnt into your back.

The prince, on the other hand, seemed to pay the gawking no mind. He kept one arm firmly around your waist, holding you as close to him as possible as the two of you made your way around the floor, your right hand snug in his left. And so small, compared to his. The prince was so tall, towering over you, your head not even reaching his chin. He had barely uttered a sentence the entire time, save for the vows he said in front of the High Septon.

And you had been warned about it. Aemond was a private man they said, given to few words. You were warned of other things too, that the prince preferred books and swordplay and solitude to anything else. You even experienced some of it, the silence, the guarded looks, the respectful distance. You sighed, determined to make the best of your circumstances.

“Are you alright?” He asked suddenly. “Is something troubling you?”

You had caught the king leering, his eyes half-filled with anger, his fingers white at the joints, and stiffened. “Nothing, husband,” you swallowed, hoping not to offend by complaining about his brother. For good and for ill, Aegon was kin, after all. “I’m fine.”

“Please do not lie to me,” Aemond whispered as his gaze skimmed over the floor, looking for the source of your sudden discomfort. When he caught Aegon staring, in front of his own wife no less, he ground his teeth. Aegon was never one for subtlety, he thought with disgust. “And do not fear my brother. Aegon is coming nowhere near you.”

How was that even going to be possible tonight? “But the bedding ceremony…” You had heard of this strange Westerosi custom and dreaded it. The thought of that lecherous king coming anywhere near you made you dread it even more.

“I did away with it, made it clear that I won’t subject you to such a humiliation. And as my mother would tell you, I did it in the least polite way imaginable.” Aemond leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Why do you think the king looks like he’d swallowed a live toad?”

His confession made you gasp, then giggle. “You threatened the king?” you tsked and whispered. “Very bad form, husband.”

Aemond’s eye twinkled, a rare thing with him. “You’re wrong, wife. I didn’t threaten the king. I just… educated him on all the things that could go wrong as he went about his day.”

That was the end to further talking as others joined the dancing. The two of you continued to sway to the music, wrapped in a bubble of blissful silence. Aemond’s thoughts circled to what was to happen later when the two of you retired for the night.

He kept thinking of that night over a decade ago when Aegon thought it fit to take, no, drag him over to the pleasure house. The woman in question was skilled and showed him many things, but Aemond never truly cared for it and just wanted the night to end. He never went back, only ever kept one bedmate and no more. He turned to you, doubt plaguing him, worrying him. He prayed to all the gods who would listen that he didn’t ruin tonight. For now, though, he would content himself with running a thumb over your fingers, rubbing his hand over your back as the two of you danced. He swallowed when you leaned into him, his heartbeat roaring in his ears when you tucked your head under his chin.

You took a steadying breath when you felt his thumb rubbing over yours. Aemond was called a monster by many, ruthless and vengeful, yet here he was, being gentle with you, putting an end to something you knew you weren’t going to look forward to. But did that mean he’d be considerate in other ways as well? You heard the stories, of how some husbands took their pleasures without care or consideration, like the king, but would Aemond be like them? Or would he be different?

“What are you thinking about, wife?”

You look up at him, stunned by him talking again. “I,” you licked your lips nervously, heat blooming in your cheeks when his gaze drifted to your mouth. A thousand excuses flashed before your eyes. “I was thinking about…” do not lie to me, he’d insisted. You sighed, deciding to be truthful. “tonight. A-after the feast, I mean.”

Aemond focused on your lips, and how they moved with each word. “I was thinking about it also,” he somehow managed, his gaze moving up quickly. “But there’s no need for you to worry.” His gaze slowly drifted to your lips again, his mind haunted with visions of your mouth opening under his. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

"I will hold you to that," you mumbled tartly, your hands flying to your mouth when you realized what you said. "Forgive me, husband, my tongue got the better of me, and--"

Aemond took your hands back into his as a new dance started. "Please don't fear me," He pleaded softly. "Many people already fear me, my wife shouldn't be one of them."

The prince is bound to have some goodness in him, you were reminded of your mother's words, the ones she told you when your parents first talked to you about the engagement. Try to see it.

Stopping the bedding ceremony, asking you not to fear him, promising to be gentle with you. Were those glimmers of the goodness you were asked to seek?

A hand gliding over your back startled you and made your head reel. A sound blew out on your next breath, soft and dreamy, something between a whimper and a soft sigh. Aemond melted when he heard that dreamy sigh. He wanted the feast to end and for everyone to leave. Between you arriving in Kings Landing and everything turning into a flurry of wedding preparations and heavily chaperoned outings, he didn't have a chance to truly be alone with you, and he was counting the minutes to do so.

✵✵✵

There were speeches.

Followed by the finest Arbor wines.

Followed by more speeches. One such was a particularly long and boring lecture from the High Septon. Several guests came close to nodding off. When your eyes grew heavy, your head started to droop, and you muttered quietly, "Now I know why people call him warm milk." You could have sworn Aemond chuckled under his breath.

“That’s probably the kindest thing people have called him,” he mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear, making you smile.

Finally, it was over, much to everyone’s visible relief.

Then, a large, elaborately decorated cake had to be wheeled into the feasting hall. You take in the sight of the cake as it is brought over slowly, inch by inch, trying to figure out how much such a confection would have cost. Clearly, the royal family had spared no expense for the ceremony and the feast. "To remind everyone who is in charge," you had heard one guest mumbling to another. "Especially those who supported the blacks."

The hint seemed to have been well received, judging by some of the looks in the crowd.

You went forward with Aemond to cut the cake. Again, you had to place your hand in his, as he held out his sword. Dark Sister, the one he won after slaying Daemon Targaryen, in a battle that nearly cost him his life and the life of his dragon, Vhagar. The sword was light, clearly made for a woman. Ripples in the blade seemed to gleam and then grow darker as if they were absorbing the surrounding light. There was magic here, and the blood of countless souls. You shivered. "Don’t be afraid," Aemond whispered. "It’s just a sword."

You wanted to roll your eyes. Just a sword, he says. Right.

The blade came down, and the cake was cut. Aemond’s hand seemed to warm over yours, keeping your grip steady as steel bit into soft cake. You would have relished eating as much cake as you wanted but you couldn't do it. The cake meant the feast was about to end, and the two of you would depart for your wedding night. Still, you made yourself eat a slice as all eyes were on you. Aemond toyed with his, moving pieces about with his fork, his eyes darting around the hall. He seemed to be as nervous as you.

Aemond looked around, waiting for the cake to be served and for the feast to end. He caught you eating, daintily gliding your lips over the pads of your fingers, picking up cake crumbs and bits of icing. Seven help him, but the very sight of you doing it made him dizzy, made him crave your lips on his. When the Master of Ceremonies signaled an end to the festivities, Aemond was the first to stand up.

"Come, wife. It is time," said Aemond, as he helped you out of your chair. You take his hand, your palm going cold and clammy out of nervousness. There was a reassuring squeeze as if telling you everything was going to be well. When you turned to him, you could have sworn Aemond winked.

The king stood up with the rest, abruptly left his table, and made his way toward you both. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Otto Hightower quickly jumping out of his chair and making his way over.

"Brother," Aegon smiled brightly for everyone's benefit, but you weren't fooled. You could still see anger in his eyes. He wasn’t pleased with being denied, that was obvious. "Congratulations again on your nuptials."

Aemond put himself in front of you, trying to block Aegon’s view. His sword arm inched towards the hilt of Dark Sister. "Thank you, brother." He forced himself to respond, his words dripping with ice. "For your wishes."

Aegon, now resorting to a leer that made you shrink back, did not attempt to leave. "I hope you’ll be staying here, in the Red Keep?"

"No." That was one thing that pleased Aemond, saying no to Aegon. "On the morrow, I’ll be taking my bride with me to Driftmark."

The seat of the now-extinct House Velaryon. Aemond had been given lordship over it after the war. Having repelled Myrish and Tyroshi attempts to overtake the island, he’d proven himself worthy of the title.

"You're taking y/n and leaving?" Aegon hissed indignantly. "What the fuck for?"

First the leering, now this. "Why does that concern you, your grace?" Angered by his brother’s lack of respect towards their sister and you, Aemond took a step forward, forcing Aegon back away. The king wilted when the white-hot need to murder burned in his brother's eye. You rushed to Aemond's side, wondering if it was wise to intervene and potentially create a scene.

In the end, Otto saved you from making that choice by quickly coming between the two brothers. "It doesn’t grandson," he smiled grandly, desperate blue eyes resting on his second grandson. "His grace is merely being curious, that is all."

“Curious, mmm. Interesting choice of words though, don’t you agree...” Aemond turned to his grandfather, trailing off when Otto looked at him as if begging him to stand down. Everyone was watching, Aegon especially, and with scheming eyes. Not wanting to leave you exposed or vulnerable, Aemond ground his jaw and composed himself. By tomorrow the two of you would be on Vhagar’s back, flying to your new home. Aegon would never come to Driftmark for he loathed life on the island, and Aemond had little interest in life at court. "Of course, grandfather," he said. "We will bid you both goodnight."

As you walked away you caught snippets of Otto Hightower giving a quiet but sharp dressing down to the king. “So the rumours are true?” Unable to help yourself, you asked when the others were well out of hearing. “Your grandfather is the only person who could truly control your brother?”

Aemond just sighed in defeat. So much for their efforts in concealing the miseries of his immediate family. “I’m afraid so,” he said, as he escorted you from one corridor to another, up stairways, and through different rooms. There was no point in hiding such things from you. You were his wife now and bound to hear more as time went on.

The very notion filled you with dread. “Then what happens, husband, when Lord Hightower dies?”

Aemond had considered the possibility of the realm falling into chaos once his grandfather has passed on and he had no interest of sticking around and cleaning more of Aegon’s messes. Within a week of your arrival in Kings Landing Aemond started making plans, to take you with him to your own country the moment Otto Hightower’s body was put into the ground. “Let’s just hope the king follows him not long after.”

✵✵✵

Aemond’s chambers were airy, with balconies that opened to the sea. The air here smelled subtly of salt.

You walked out and looked out into the night. Under the light of a full moon, you could see a large hump on the adjoining strip of the beach. There was a low, deep, rumble, the hump went up and down as if it were breathing. "Vhagar," Aemond said, almost startling you. "She finds it harder to wake up now."

You could hear it, the faint tinge of sadness in his voice. Vhagar came into life when he was older than the others, a dragon only a few had been able to claim. Vhagar was far too old now, too slow, her fighting days well and truly behind her.

"Fighting Caraxes weakened her, left her with wounds that never truly healed,” Aemond looked on fondly at the beast that had carried him throughout the war. "The Maesters are giving her three more years. Five, if we’re lucky."

"Just three years?" The last living connection to the conqueror and his sisters, the last true war dragon, snuffed out in three years. "And will she be strong enough to take us to Driftmark?"

"We have to use her. Otherwise, the old lady will never let me hear the end of it if I leave her here and she has to follow me to Driftmark." Not wanting to think about Vhagar’s demise, Aemond went back inside and got a fire going to steady his jangled nerves. "But enough of that. Why don’t you come inside, mmm?"

There were butterflies in your belly when Aemond took off his boots and removed his rings. You gulped and went in, walking towards the four-poster bed, your hands working on the clasps of your dress. You felt his eye on you, watching your every move. Aemond could tell you were nervous by your fingers struggling with the clasps, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He came over, his hands gently pulling yours away. "Let me," he said.

You stand still, your cheeks burning, as your dress loosens around your body. "You’re still frightened," Aemond murmured. "Why?"

You had been trembling despite your efforts to calm your nerves. "I—I’ve never been with anyone before and…"

"No handsome stableboy stealing your kisses? No," He cut you off and ground his teeth, as a sharp pang of jealousy stabbed him in the gut. "Dashing sellsword winning your favours?"

How it pleased you so, seeing him worked up like this. You felt tempted to say yes, just to see what his reaction would be like, but you stuck to the truth instead. "No."

"But you’re Myrish," said Aemond, as he undid the last of the clasps. His hands then moved up to slip the dress down your arms. Goosebumps spread over your skin when his hands glided down your exposed flesh. "I thought your people were – freer – so to speak, with their affections."

"Not all of us, no." You stepped out of the dress that had now pooled around your ankles, your body only covered in a thin silk shift. "And I have heard of your," you remained motionless once more, this time as large hands reached back to undo the braids and coils in your hair. "Reputation."

Aemond arched a brow, his violet eye glinting in the moonlight. “My reputation, wife?” His eye gleamed as a braid came loose, and there was a soft ping, of a clip hitting the ground. "And what kind of reputation is that, mmm?"

"That you’re a kinslayer." More braids and coils came undone, allowing your hair to flow freely around you. "That you’ve done terrible things during the war."

Aemond let his fingers curl around your hair. How many nights had he lain awake, dreaming of all the times he could run his fingers run through your hair. "The gossips are right, wife. I am a kinslayer, a murderer.” He turned around, so you could undo the single braid in his hair. Having to stand on the tips of your toes wasn’t easy, but you did it. Aemond closed his eye when your palms glided over his shoulders. He swallowed, counting the minutes till he could feel your hands all over his body. "I've killed more people than I could care to count during the war. Cursed by the gods, that’s what I am. I’m vengeful, always carrying a grudge, always wanting to settle debts against those who wronged me."

You trembled when he turned to you again. "But I could be just your monster," he whispered as he took off his coat, and his tunic, leaving his chest bare. "If you let me."

The large pink scar that covered most of his torso was hard to miss. A burn no doubt, a parting gift from Caraxes and the Rogue Knight. Temptation came over you. You let your hand glide up his chest, your heart thrilling when Aemond whispered don’t stop under his breath. "Just my monster?" You asked, your cheeks flushing again when Aemond removed his belt and threw it to the ground.

"Not just your monster." He shook his head, curling a finger under your chin, tilting it up. Aemond, thinking it best not to remove his eye patch on the first night, dithered on what to do next. Should he lean in and kiss you? Should he scoop you up and carry you to bed? Or perhaps he should loosen his tongue and tell you all the things he had wanted to say since he first saw you. "I wish to be so much more to you."

"Oh?" You grew nervous when he turned you around and moved your hair to one side, so he could undo the lacings on the back of your shift. "L-like what, husband?"

“I wish to be so good to you.” You calling him husband, how Aemond enjoyed hearing it. "I could be your shelter from the storm." Aemond pulled out the last of the laces and slipped a shoulder strap down your arm. His arms hooked around your waist, and hands callused by years of fighting and dragon-riding rested over your tummy. "To be the sworn shield that strikes down all who try to hurt you."

It felt like your bones turned to water when Aemond pressed his face against the nape of your neck, brushing his nose over your skin. He worked on the other shoulder strap, gradually loosening your shift until it slid down to your waist. “I want to be your island of peace,” Aemond mumbled as you stood perfectly still, your nervousness slowly crumbling to dust when soft kisses pressed against your skin, warming it wherever they landed. “Even when the rest of the world is falling apart.”

“W-what else?” you hummed when his fingers curled over your belly. You couldn’t see it, the flash of need in his eye when he held you flush against him. You could only feel him, how his body trembled with every breath he took, how warm his skin felt against yours. How good would it feel to surrender to him, you thought, as you closed your eyes and tilted your head to the side. "Tell me more. Please."

Aemond’s tongue loosened even more and he didn't care. If he couldn't confess to his wife then what was the point of being married? “I want to love you. To worship you.” Your eyes flew wide open at the revelation. Everything he just told you was a revelation, but this both shocked and pleased you. “I want you to come to me,” Aemond whispered, his hot breath against your ear sending tingles up your spine. “With everything. Your dreams. And your fears. And your lusts.”

You collapsed into him when he cupped your breasts, his fingers gently playing with soft buds that puckered under his touch. His name rolled off your tongue in a gasp.

Oh, that was all he ever wanted to hear that night and every night after that. His name, rolling past your lips.

Aemond kept touching you, letting his hands glide all over your stomach, the cleft between your breasts, your arms, before moving to your breasts again in slow, teasing caresses. Heat pooled in your core, warmth spread all over your skin as those large hands caressed and squeezed, as his lips latched onto the crook of your neck, gently sucking at the soft flesh.

Feeling you go lax in his arms, your body open to all that he was doing, proved too sinful and enticing for Aemond and he gave in, his hands pulling down on your shift, yanking it past your waist until it fell to the ground, gathering around your ankles in a puddle of fabric. You were so small next to him, he could picture himself carrying you to bed and easily tossing you around as he had his way with you, but not yet. Not until you were comfortable with him and trusted him completely. “I am yours, kēlītsos,” he crooned against your neck, your trembles intoxicating his senses like a heady drug. “All that I have, and all that I am, is yours.”

With that, he whipped you around and dragged you in for a kiss. Your head reeled, your lips yielding to his, soft purrs rising from the back of your throat when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, eager to savour the warmth of your mouth. “As I’m yours,” you heard yourself murmur between kisses. “Now and always, husband.”

Aemond groaned into his kiss. He could already feel it, the arousal in his loins, his body overcome with the need to take all you were willing to give him. When your arms wrapped around his waist he walked you backward, not stopping until you were right up against the bed. “Get in bed,” He cooed, his hands going to work on lace cords. “And lie back.”

You moved up to the pillows, your eyes never leaving his. Aemond peeled off his breeches, a smile tugging at his lips when you blushed furiously and looked away. “Look at me, kēlītsos,” Aemond said gently, as he made his way to you.

Your lessons in High Valyrian had been so few, your grasp of the language so weak. You knew only the basics, Kēlītsos being one of them. Kitten, it meant. “Why do you call me that?” You croaked when he hovered over you, his thighs pushing yours apart as he settled between your legs. “Kēlītsos?”

“Because I want to,” Aemond let his hand glide up your calf, along the inside of your thigh, his breath shuddering as his palm skimmed over soft, supple skin. He knew your body was soft, he felt it while dancing, but he didn’t think it would be this soft. "Does it displease you?” Fear overtook him. Had he made a mistake by calling you that? “I- I could say something else if you like.”

And there had been your family, warning you not to anger him tonight. Oh, if you could only tell them, how their fears were unfounded. “I- I don’t mind,” you trembled when his fingers, callused and hardened after years of fighting, drifted up your belly. “Really.”

Aemond smiled, really smiled, his entire face lighting up with pleasure. “Good. Then that is what I’ll call you then. But when we’re alone, yes?”

“Yes...” the rest of your answer was cut off when his lips found yours, slow, drugging kisses that robbed you of the very air that you breathed. Your fingers found their way to his hair, to soft locks that seemed to slip through like water. His lips were so soft, his tongue wet and warm as it traced over your lips, his teeth sharp as they gently grazed your lips, leaving them bruised and puffy and you aching when he pulled away. Wet kisses skimmed over your chin and glided over your throat. When you groaned and arched your back he grew bolder, his lips moving lower, leaving a wet trail over your ribcage, your belly, moving along your hips, the insides of your thighs. “A-ae-mond,” you groaned, your fingers scrabbling for purchase against the sheets when his mouth moved to your center, his tongue flicking gently on your wet slit.

The prince moaned when your legs moved over to his shoulders, when your hands got all bunched up in his hair. He massaged your thighs as his tongue pressed deeper into your throbbing pussy, delighting in your babbling, your desperate pleas. An arm moved over to your abdomen and pinned you down even as he pressed his mouth even deeper into your cunt, savouring the very essence that was you. When you bucked your hips he growled and rubbed his thumb over your clit, whimpering, "Let go for me. Please let go for me."

Everything about him shocked you, from his tenderness out there in the hall, to his fire in here, in bed. You felt foolish for being afraid of him, for thinking he'd treat you the way he treated many others. Aemond had been wanting you to trust him, to share pleasure with him, and you could see yourself being genuinely happy with him. All sense of timidness deserted you and the air was thickly peppered with, “more aemond… right there aemond… harder aemond… aemond please.”

"Fuck," Aemond growled when you bucked into him again, when your legs clamped down over his shoulders as if not wanting him to move. He grabbed onto your thighs, discretely looking over at you. Seeing you arching your back, your eyes fluttering with each spasm that rippled over you, shook him. Never had he felt such hunger for a single person, not even with Alys, and Alys was the closest he had come to care for someone. This was different. No, he decided. This wasn't just different, it was so much more, something much stronger, the kind only poets wrote about. He mumbled in High Valyrian, words he'd never dreamt of saying to anyone. When you were safely situated in Driftmark, he'd tell you what they meant.

Aemond then felt it, the slow coiling of your muscles, the growing trembles in your thighs. You were close, so close.

No, he thought. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted you to first cum on his cock.

“Not this way, Kēlītsos.” Aemond pulled away and cleaned his lips with the edge of the sheet. He kissed his way back up to you, groaning when your legs slid open and rested against his thighs. He kissed you, his lips gently pulling at yours, purring when you sucked on his tongue. His hands held your hips steady as he drove into your center, his cock slowly stretched your slick walls.

It hurt. You were prepared for it, but it still hurt. Aemond did his best to distract you, kissing you senseless, not giving a single word of complaint when your nails dug into his shoulders as he sank his full length into your aching cunt. The moan that followed when he claimed your maidenhead was deep and throaty. You felt wave upon wave of pleasure, and not just by your velvety walls clenching around his throbbing cock. You were now his wife in every way.

Kisses drifted over your eyelids as he hovered over you, giving you time to adjust to his presence inside you. “Are you comfortable, Kēlītsos?” Aemond brushed back your hair, his gaze filled with concern. “Do you want me to go on?”

You managed an eager nod, ignoring the pain, the discomfort. “Yes.” You hooked your legs around his waist, savouring how full you felt with his cock inside you. “I’m ready for this.”

There was the barest hint of a smile. You closed your eyes and jolted when he moved, his thrust sending shockwaves and dragging out sharps gasps out of your mouth. As he began to rock back and forth, the pain slowly gave way, discomfort slowly gave way, pleasure slowly replaced all else, and all you could manage was to moan and mewl his name.

Aemond helped you up and had you straddling his lap as he pressed himself flush against you. This was so much better for you. Your hands reached out, touching, caressing, trying to match what Aemond was doing to you. Feeling your naked flesh against his, your nails raking down his back, your palms gliding over his scar, overwhelmed him. “You like this, don’t you, Kēlītsos?” He rasped into your ear. “Riding the dragon?”

Something about the way he said it aroused you greatly, made you crave to hear more. “Y-yes. I d-do.”

He chuckled breathily as he settled into a pace and rhythm you both liked. When Aemond was not telling you of the things he wanted to do to you, he was kissing you. And when he was not kissing you he let a hand glide over your body, grabbing onto your breasts, thighs, and ass, leaving bruises in its wake. You could only cling to him as he brought you closer, your walls pulsing all too intensely around his cock. “D-don’t s-stop,” you plead even as you arched into him. “P-please… p-please d-don’t stop.”

Aemond pushed you back into bed and quickly propped himself on his hands, slamming his hips, grinding them against the insides of your thighs, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air. You managed to hold onto enough focus, your hips driving back to meet his thrusts, your feet scrabbling for purchase against his back. Your hips kept driving back, not stopping, and your muscles coiled tight like they were about to snap. You push back one last time, and those coiled muscles shattered, the world skidding to an immediate halt as your orgasm ripped through you.

Aemond felt it, heard it. Your body trembling violently under his, his name blowing past your lips in a half-moan, half-cry. He was far from done and growled, “Hold on Kēlītsos, hold on.” He thrust harder and faster, as his body plunged hard and plunged deep, barely holding on for a few more seconds. When he came it was with a deep, final thrust and an even deeper, satisfying grunt. He kept still while his seed continued to spill into your womb.

You swallowed as your heartbeat slowed and the world slowly started to come into focus. You hear the curtains rustling with the night breeze and the popping and cracking of firewood in the hearth. You felt Aemond moving, his weight shifting as he slowly collapsed next to you. He was exhausted, his chest heaving, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He reached over, pulling you to him, his hands brushing off the beads of sweat that had started to form over your skin. Exhausted but replete, you make yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm. “This night went better than I dreamed, husband.”

Incredibly relieved that he hadn’t ruined this night for you, that he hadn’t messed up the start of his marriage, Aemond cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your jawbone. His kisses were now soft, and tender. “Anything for you, Kēlītsos.”

#aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #fanfiction #writeblr #aemond #house of the dragon x reader #one shots #aemond imagine

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viktheviking1 · 3 months

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Confession V2

(This is kinda outta context. I tried to make it make sense. If you want to know what really happened that led up to this scene, I've got links to my fanfic at the bottom. I hope you enjoy anyway!)

Blitz hadn't seen Stolas in so long. Between Stolas getting kidnapped, and then getting kidnapped himself, he had realized how precious time in this life was. Not to mention the giant lump in his throat as he watched his old friend and first crush live the life he always wanted, and get to love whomever he pleased. Stolas had told him once that he loved him, and he brushed him off. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

So when he knocked on the door of Stolas's mansion, on a day that was distinctly NOT a full moon, he had one goal in mind.

"Hey there, good looking." Blitz said, leaning in the doorway.

Stolas was clearly taken by surprise, "Oh! Hello, dear. What can I do for you?"

"The better question is what can I do you for?" Blitz grinned.

Stolas couldn’t help but let a goofy, sheepish smile, sprawl across his face, “Heh. He he he! How silly.” He started giggling little hoots.

Blitz seemed to let out a sigh of relief, “It’s been so long since I heard that sound.”

Stolas immediately stopped, “Oh-! I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no!” Blitz closed the space between them, and grabbed his hand, “I meant . . . that I missed it.”

Stolas’s heart flipped, and he looked down at their hands. He tangled their fingers together and he watched as Blitz squeezed his hand.

"You know . . . I've had some time to think. . ." Blitz started, looking away as he blushed, "about you and I. About our arrangement. About how I . . . really feel about you."

“Oh~? And how do you feel about me?~”

He expected a sarcastic return, a witty comback, or at best, a flirtatious remark. He was not expecting for Blitz to grab his cardigan, and tug him down, and kiss him roughly.

Blitz pulled back after a moment but didn’t let go of him, pressing their foreheads together, “I love everything about you, Stolas. I love your creepy bird mouth and the way you laugh. I love listening you talk about your stupid hyperfixations on plants and toads and constellations. I love how much you worry over your daughter and how a simple text from her can make your day. I love how you are somehow so shy and sweet, and somehow the k*nkiest motherf**ker alive and that you know what you and chase after it. I love to listen to you sing in the shower and watch you gaze at the sky. I love you so much, Stolas." He let go of his shirt and cupped his face in his hands, and pulled back to get a better look at him, "and that's why I've been so scared to hurt you. And I know being with me would mean a lot of hard decisions, public ridicule, and general trouble for you. Not to mention my tendency to be the worst of bad luck charms."

"Blitz-"

"But if you really do think for some crazy, insane reason, that I'm worth all that, then . . ." He nuzzled him and smiled, "why the f**k not?"

Stolas stared into his eyes, stunned. He reached up and pinched Blitz's cheek.

"Ow!" He shouted, but didn't let go of his face, "what the f**k was that for?!"

"I had to check if I was dreaming." Stolas blinked.

Blitz laughed, "You're supposed to pinch yourself to prove it."

"Oh, that's right." Stolas grinned.

"Dumb*ss." Blitz chuckled, and the two fell into another kiss. There tongues tied together in a familiar fashion, the sweet taste of renewed love and churros on their lips. It was also so completely different from their kisses of the past. Before everything was hot, passionate and fast, but this was a tender, honest kiss. A purity in it that neither had ever had before.

Stolas felt a sharp pain, and pulled away suddenly. Standing at his full height, he reached his hand down to rub his butt where it hurt, "Ouch!"

He looked down at Blitz who was grinning mischievously, "So? Is it a dream?"

It took him a moment to realize what had happened, but when he did, he burst out laughing.

". . . It wasn't that funny." Blitz smiled, eyebrows drawn together.

"Oh yes, my dear," Stolas leaned down and picked Blitz up, letting him sit on his arm, so he could face him, "Yes, it was."

Blitz snorted, "You have such a weird sense of humor."

Stolas giggled, "You're the one who made the joke!"

"I know what I said and I stand by it." Blitz nodded.

They both laughed together.

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shesalewa · 5 months

Text

Wanna know what type of comedy happens in my fanfic of Dad Gun?

Incorrect quotes

Gun: sometimes I wonder how the hell I ended up here.

Daniel: ACHOO!

Gun: bless you DanDan.

Daniel: thanks dad.

Gun: mind if I get excited for a little bit? Have any of you seen a grown man smile? *Smiles very creepily*

Everyone but goo and Daniel: *visibility shocked and sacred*

Gun: every time I show emotions, it disturbs a lot of you.

Eli: which one of you was gonna tell me that Tea tastes different if you put it into hot water?

Olly: you're putting it in... COLD WATER?!

Jake: ELI. ANSWER THE QUESTION ELI.

Eli: yeah? I thought for like 5 years that people just put it into hot water to speed up the TEA-IFFICATION process, didn't realize there was an actual reason.

Olly: YOU DON'T HAVE THE PATIENCE TO BOIL WATER IN THE MICROWAVE FOR 3 MINUTES!?

Johan: WHY. ARE YOU. BOILING IT. IN THE MICROWAVE.

Olly: DO YOU THINK I HAVE THE PATIENCE TO BOIL A CUP OF WATER ON A STOVE!?

Johan: it. takes. LESS. THAN A MINUTE.

Olly: BESTIE IS YOUR STOVETOP POWERED UP BY THE F-CKING SUN?!

Johan: HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE FOR YOU TO BOIL A CUP OF WATER ON A STOVE!?

Olly: LIKE 7 MINUTES!

Samuel: JUST STICK THE MUG ON TOP OF THE STOVE ON MEDIUM HEAT. AND IT BOILS IN LIKE 2 MINUTES, LESS THAN THAT AND YOU USE A SAUCE PAN!

Daniel: *laughing at the drama, somehow he knows how to make tea* YOU'RE PUTTING THE WHOLE MUG ON THE STOVE?! ON MEDIUM HEAT?! ... Your stove is enchanted!

Goo: every single person in this room is a f-cking lunatic.

Gun: DO NONE OF YOU OWN A F-CKING KETTLE?! (Gun an expert Japanese man who loves tea more thsn himself, legit KNOWS how to make tea)

Gun: ... How the hell did I get here.

*the four major crew legit Reeking chaos in his f-cking household*

Daniel: ... I THINK I'm the cause of all this.

Goo: I'm sometimes asked how I'm associated with Gun so often. To the point I just pull out a Marriage certificate, and shut them the hell up.

Olly: hold that sh-t up, you're married to Gun...?

Goo: see what I mean?

Jake: someone told me not to piss off Daniel. What's he gonna do with his short a— kick me in the knee?

Jake: HEY DANNY!

Daniel: oh hey Seonbae what's up-

Jake: *legit pushes Daniel*

Daniel: ...

...

Eli: I'm back- whoa. What the actual f-ck happened here.

Johan: Daniel is beating up Jake, and is kicking his knee and breaking his ankles.

Samuel: what? Why?

Johan: Jake thought Daniel couldn't do sh-t because of Daniel's height.

Olly: Gun would be proud.

Daniel: GUY'S A BOMB IS ON THE TRAIN!

Goo/Jake: OBAMA'S ON THE TRAIN?!

Daniel: NO A BOMB!

Goo: oh good I f-cking hate Obama but I'm not racist or anything.

Jake: I am(joke)

Zack: I'll fight off bad guys and earn money from it! Then I'll become FILTHY RICH HAHAHAH-

Daniel:(you know... It's kind of sad how I'm living most of his life for him...)

Jace: so what's this game about?

Vasco: is about an assistant detective who works as a Gumshoe to help Zack Lee solve a case.

Eli: why Zack Lee?

Vasco: I do not know.

Jace & Daniel: (so it's a fantasy game)

10.

Gun: IM BRINGING. YOU WITH ME. TO GO OUT. SHOPPING. FOR FOOD. *Olly is in trouble but we don't know what trouble*

Olly: I'm not hungry anymore! I have Cupcakes hidden under my bed!*Olly sleeps on the floor in Gun's house, on the floor with Samuel, so where the hell is he hiding his cupcakes.*

11.

Daniel: ALL WOMEN ARE QUEENS!

Olly: IF SHE BREATHES. SHE THOOOOOOO-

12.

Jay: ...(in every family there's the older brother, who has problems but won't talk about it.)

Kitae: hi...!

Jay: ... (The girl who's desperate for a boyfriend)

Joy: HELLO!!! HI!!!

Jay: ... (And the gay Mysterious awkward socially isolated member of the family)

Jay: ... (Oh wait that's me.)

13.

Eugene: STOP LEACHING OFF MY MONEY!

Beakgyeol: (you were broke until I came...)

14.

Samuel: ALL I KNOW IS THAT YOU CAN BE ANNOYING SOMETIMES!!! sigh... I'll be in the dinning room.

Jake: WAIT!

Daniel: (there they go again...)

Johan: I think they broke up... *Whispering*

15.

Gun: which is fine because you're a thief anyways, first peoples limbs and now a stupid video game.

Dg: ...!?

16.

Random woman working as a hotel register: here you go sir. When you leave please return this back to me.

*room number 96*

Johan: huh. It's almost my favorite number.

17.

Goo: so do you have anything?

Jake: if I had I wouldn't be the one calling you! So sadly I legit have no clue on how to help take down the 1st affiliate.

Goo: no. You must have something.

Jake: haah...??????

Goo: and you're taking it to me. *Has a voice recorder out,*

Jake: what are you saying-

"WHAT THE HELL DO YA THINK YA DOING TO MY SAMUEL!"

Jake: ... YOU PROMISED TO DELETE THAT!

Goo: *professional blackmailing b-tch*

18.

Crystal: DG! Look at this mess! No wonder you haven't gotten any work done! This place is like a pigs Isle!

19.

Gun: that was some good coffee baby! I'd get another but I'm too damn lazy.

20.

Daniel: I'm going to search what Slay means.

Daniel: *saw the meaning of slay* WUHA, I PROMISE YOU ALL I DO NOT SLAY.

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vxredemption · 17 days

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The First Tear (1/3) by vxredmption(Warmund)

A COTL AU fanfic writing for @gorjee-art COTL AU (All properties, AUs, concepts, imagery, etc. go their respective owners.)

Silence. A steady but heavy footstep follows... then silence. The slow sunset over the great lands casted down onto one living hooded figure, standing near their lamb god as they swayed their adorned thurible, casting trails of ancient burning incense to attract those who have lost their way to the afterlife as it moved around around a ancient clearing. The figure had, for a time, considered his god to be living as well... but he knew that contradicts their achieved divinity all those years ago. He had accepted it... but now he feels his heart grow heavy with a longing that he took for granted. The hooded figure, Narinder, would soon try to make talk with his god for a hundredth time... hoping that this time they could at least see a sign that they have listened to them. "Today's harvest was well with your followers, Lamb... berries, cauliflower, pumpkins... the feast for this month will be plentiful and colorful." A pause... then a another heavy step is heard, with bells softly tolling about around the god's neck and ears. The Lamb God was still on their duties to see if there was any lost flock of the afterlife still present in the ancient grounds... finding nothing in one part of the clearing. They soon moved to another side, giving their chained censer a sway as to see if there were any souls yet to be guided by them. "The followers were as happy as they can be at end of the harvest day. Plans of great meals that even my sister, Heket, would be happy to make with great fervor... though Leshy could at least try some patience before interfering her work by going a handful of fish tearing them at their heads with glee as a... 'sample dish'." Narinder mustered a small smile, happy remembering the scene in detail with familial fondness... but that slowly faded as he only sees the Lamb God was still silent... once again being unnoticed for the hundredth and one time of this day. The grip on his shepherd staff tightened a little, once belonging to Lamb when they smaller and seeing it fitting to be "gifted" to them after their ascension, the wood creaking just a bit from what his mortal strength could offer. "I am sure that even such troubles, even after all these years, the familiarity of family is what helps the even the most lonesome beings to be feel loved." Silence... a heavy footstep... a jingle... silence again. Nothing more from the Lamb... that is until Narinder, who has spoken a normal calm toned voice to the Lamb as if they were his height, spoke a bit louder and rougher around the edges... signs of frustration and melancholy seeping through syllables and at the end of each inquiry. "Lamb... the one who I call God to... how much more can I take this? How many more times will my words go unheard to you? How much longer will I even get to see as much as to turn towards me to make even the slightest affirmation or disdain towards my attempts to speak to you? I was the One Who Waits... and the silence I have received from you makes me feel the same imprisonment all those years ago... only this time... I feel my heart beat up to my throat, my limbs no longer weighed by heavy chains.... only to be replaced with a weight a 100 times more painful: no longer seeing you smile."

End of Pt.1 (Hope this is good... otherwise, I follow this notion: Fuck it. We ball!)

#cult of the lamb #ascension of mercy - cotl au #artist mention #my writing #my fanfic #series

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gargusscp · 6 days

Text

When She Was Just-

(More fanfic of @zal-cryptid's Misfits in Toyland comic. Contains size stuff, so reader beware.)

“So you just sit on down, get yourself comfy, and I’ll be right back to start our playdate!”

Easier said than done, Beau thought to herself, squirming on the spot for a decent position on the couch as Dolly flop-skipped out the room, singing a tuneless babble. If Toyland had one notable disadvantage - once you exhausted the obvious grievances with losing your old life and existing as a plaything for probably all eternity - it was the lack of halfway decent furniture. Chairs and beds made to fit a doll weren’t exactly designed with human comforts in mind. Little give to their rigid wood and plastic frames, cushioning a sliver-thin strip of foam at best, too often ever so slightly disproportionate for all except one user. Beau herself could hardly roll half a turn either way in her own bed without risking falling out, let alone find a non-cramped spot on Dolly’s ratty wool sofa.

Granted, Beau took issue with her proportions in nearly all matters. A porcelain-figurine of a shepherdess, she towered over most other folk in Toyland. The Barbie doll down the lane claimed she felt no perspective different at twelve inches from her 5’6” human height; Beau, once 4’11”, felt quite the substantial difference at eighteen. That Barbie girl barely measured to the bottom of Beau’s chest. Her life as a vanishing slip ended the day she kicked her way from her arrival box and felt the dimensions of her new form , a figurine sculpted for detail over function, garbed in a needlessly voluminous lace gown triple her natural width. Actions major and minor all the day came with overbearing reminder she was, all told, huge.

Waking in the morning? Bumps and bonks reaffirming her playset of a home was hastily retro-fitted to just barely accommodate her bulk. Passing other toys in the public square? Snickers about her heavy trod and long shadow. Chatting with friends after a day in the fields? Oh God, how her voice so easily overwhelms the group.

One such chat started her path to this damnably undersized couch, why oh why won’t her dress gather without bunching and bulging in the small of her back? “You seem real tense lately, Beau.” “You spend too much time tending your flock, Beau.” “I didn’t know you could micromanage sheep.” They had a point, she did feel wound up, and without any mechanism to blame. Absolutely nothing to do with her work, they simply didn’t understand how much it meant to her, but a point on the mark is a point on the mark. Even so, she felt reticent about visiting Dolly when the subject inspired some… less than altogether pure remarks. “Oh, a playdate with Dolly is just what you need, big girl!” “Yeah, I hear she’s got the magic touch, pushes all your buttons if you got ‘em.” “I dunnow, seems more adventurous than Beau’s used to.”

She sulked in her home for some hours after, twiddling the too-small business card in her spindly fingers, torn between offense at their implications and genuine curiosity. The language Dolly used in advertising her services left anyone a smidgen past pure childhood innocence little room to ignore the barely-hidden meaning. Chance was right, she generally wouldn’t entertain those sorta transactions. On the other hand (flicking the card from one to the other), despite the crude jokes around “playing with Dolly,” the ragdoll seemed plenty friendly whenever Beau had occasion for brief exchanges to and from work, and those who did partake never so much as hinted at anything untoward. Just the surface-level meaning any halfway literate could take from the text.

Which posed some trouble when Beau hoped the rumors were true. Knew her frustrations ran deeper than simply too much time in the Arctic sun standing over sheep who, strictly speaking, needed no herding. Wanted to come right out and ask for the weirdest sort of help resolving her deepest set issue with life in Toyland. Yet if she guessed wrong, if Dolly’s play sessions were half so wholesome as suspected, there’d be zero chance of looking her straight in the button eye for a long time coming. Beau felt flushed, but her skin remained its neutral painted shade as she fiddled and twiddled, thinking long into the night.

After a week’s protracted thought, Beau had worked a free afternoon into her schedule, left a note on Dolly’s doorstep announcing her visit and available hours, spent a sleepless night cursing the inventor of packing foam, and squeezed into Dolly’s residence at the appointed time. The way she figured, best to play it cool, wend her way to the point roundabout as she can manage, and hope against hope Dolly gets the idea, and moreover, approves. If not… well, running away isn’t exactly difficult at her size. Though she may crack a doorframe or two in the rush.

So she sat, or rather shifted and bounced in vain with sitting a fleeting incidental matter, trying to distract herself from a welling panic in her breast by focusing on the details of Dolly’s foyer. No need to run if she busied her eyes studying the cardboard cutout of a flame in the fireplace, crayon scribblings of yellows and oranges subtly shifting in a dance implying warmth she could not feel. Why question her purpose in coming here when she could examine the conversation pieces on the coffee table, seemingly alphabet blocks with notably peeling paint and assorted accessories from mismatched doll lines chipped in odd places? Oh God, this was a bad idea, but don’t think about that, think about the imitation-wood wallpaper, or the paper-printout throw rug in the corner, or the approaching sound of rags on smoothed balsa wood!

Beau templed her hands over her face, pinching her nose so hard she risked shattering it and index fingers alike. You can do this, she thought, screwing her eyes shut. Just ask like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Alrighty! I’m… ready! How ‘bout… you?”

She blinked, turned, and looked down. Dolly shuffled backwards through the entryway, dragging a gallon-size ziplock full to bursting with cotton balls in her wake. “Sorry I took my time! Had to think’ve… something we could use for… sheep!” she beamed. “Didn’t… phew… didn’t want to ask yours to come in! Gotta keep things private, y’know!”

Funny the things you notice when forcing your thoughts away from undesired conclusions. As Beau sat ramrod stiff, hands still hovering before her mouth, her gaze darted all over Dolly, taking in aspects of her person as substitute for the chant oh, Oh no, oh no no no, she really does just want to play at counting sheep, this is bad, get out, abort, abort! The polished button eyes which twisted about and pressed on her face ever so slightly to distort the surrounding area into expressions. The rosy patch circles on her cheeks Beau swore sometimes grew and shrank in size with Dolly’s mood. The faded candystripe pattern of her burlap dress - shorter than her usual outfit, or just Beau’s imagination? The… well, the slightness. Dolly stood somewhat taller than most humanoid toyfolk (if still a few inches shy of Beau’s height), but being a cotton-stuffed ragdoll made her seem so insubstantial. Hardly any klumphing from her step, a wavering quality to her gestures, so light that the occasional jostle when passing her could knock her several body lengths away. Not a rigid or heavy thing about her.

“Sooooo…?”

Beau flinched. She should probably say something.

“I’m… sure they wouldn’t mind, if you asked…”

“Naaaah, don’t be silly!” Dolly waved off the notion, wrist bouncing every which way. “I see you in the fields, acting all Miss Bossy Lady with ‘em, hardly having any fun! All they’d do is get you doing that again! Sure, if you wanna invite, I won’t say no, but as Toyland’s first ‘n’ best professional playmate, I gotta say you’re better off with THESE sheep today!”

She hefted an armful of cotton balls, cradling them back and forth while bleating, “Baaa! Baaa!”

Beau coughed. “Well, you know, I… it’s the right way of doing things. A shepherd, well… she tends her flock and… makes sure they go where they need to…”

“Plus!” Dolly scampered over and tugged at Beau’s voluminous dress folds, encouraging her to come over to the “flock.” “Plus, I’ve heard you talkin’ all the time! Who could miss it? You’re usually SUPER confident and forward. Don’t give anyone a turn until you’re done! Being all ‘uh’ and ‘err’ and ‘well..’ ain’t like you! Trust me, if you’re here and being Miss Hem Haw instead of Miss Bossy Lady, you NEED this!”

For her stature and composition, Dolly pulled surprisingly hard, prompting Beau to rise and at least begin hesitantly stepping towards the cotton pile, lest her dress tear under enthusiastic hands. “Right, but the thing is… I don’t exactly w-”

“So!” Dolly plopped herself down on the floor, busied beyond hearing with her ideas for the next few hours. “We got your sheep here, right? And you’ve got your you, and since you’re the shepherdess, you’re gonna do shepherdess things for them! EXCEPT! We aren’t gonna do your boring herding stuff, we’re gonna have fun! Name the sheep, get to know them, let ‘em scamper around, jump some fences, do some counting, maybe a nap in the middle if it makes us sleepy!”

“Dolly…”

“That’s all for later, though! What’d you think THIS little sheepie’s name should be?”

“Dolly, may I please say something before we start?”

She wished she still had a tongue to bite. The request wasn’t meant to come out quite so impatient, barking. If Dolly minded the sudden shot of aggression, it only evidenced through her face going neutral for a moment or two before breaking back into a wide smile. “Sure thing! Whatcha got?” And then her head lolled to the side, resting angled cross her shoulder in a way Beau always found offputting. No matter how much she knew this as Dolly’s I’m Listening I’m Hearing Honest pose, the limp stillness in her manner creeped a body out.

With a heavy sigh, Beau gathered her skirts and lowered herself cross-legged to the floor, intent on getting this right. Steady and honest, she reminded herself, tucking and checking the fabric for comfort. Wend your way in, give the full picture, keep your head, hope for the best. Right. Here goes.

“I am sure you have heard me tell how I came to the island, or at least heard from another who has,” she began, voice low and level as manageable. “Short, skinny little Beau used to flying under everyone’s notice, suddenly so big a toy she’s practically eight feet tall compared to all the rest. I am not stupid, I took one look at myself and figured a good rough version of why I came here - and a bit of talking to my neighbors cemented it. All those years dodging attention, dodging responsibility, shirking duties for increasingly ephemeral reasons until I wasn’t taking proper care of my own health, let alone the people I might have helped if I took a tiny bit of interest in my life? And now I’m a shepherd in Toyland with a flock waiting? The message was pretty clear: shape up, adopt this duty, learn some discipline and make some proper commitments for once.”

A pause, to glance at Dolly for response. Absolutely none, as expected, blank-eyed and still. When she listens, she does literally nothing else.

“So I did what was expected. And it helped, it really has, I like being shepherd for the sheep. I do not know if they’re toyfolk themselves or just extensions for my punishment, but I get up, I tend them however long they need tending, and then I go home. That is my life, and I think it a good life. I live on a clock where I let hours slip, I’m assertive where I let others step on me, I’m a responsible person with a point to her life instead of a slacker doormat of no worth or use. All to say… I just do not think playing cotton ball sheep is what I need here. My job is playing the person I’m supposed to be, so there is no need to replicate it. Right?

Expecting Dolly’s continued silence and mentally readying a third leg to her spiel, Beau jolted hard when the ragdoll’s head shot up and said, “Okay! We don’t gotta play sheep! What do you wanna play, then?”

With a shudder, Beau steered towards her main point. “Right. The reason I came here today… the REASON I came here today is because I have felt one.. one major problem the entire time I have lived here.” Good Lord, could her speech be more stilted? “Not something you would expect most to complain about, probably too silly for consideration, I should just g…” She promised herself. No running until outright rejection. Say it. “I do not like… I want… well…”

“Your clothes? Do you wanna play dress-up? I’ve got some-”

There go the floodgates.

“I hate being so much taller than everyone! It’s not just bumping my head and knocking people over and never finding anything in my size, that all sucks but I’m sick of being so BIG overall! I woke up in my box and I looked around and I thought oh my God, it finally happened! Because I was always short, right, and I had a THING for it and wanted to be even smaller, smaller than possible, and here I was under two feet and telling myself well, you’re not a person anymore, but you’ve got your dream, that’s something at least. And then I wander into town and what do you know, they’re all shrimps compared to me, I’m practically a living colossus compared to everyone, and I have to learn how to be responsible and punctual and outward while living in THIS body? THIS gigantic freak of a thing? I’m the runt I always fantasized about and I can’t even feel it and it’s just too much and I want.. I want… I…”

Beau could not remotely account how, lacking lungs and all, she winded herself spilling her secret in one prolonged babble. Regardless mechanics, she sat there on the floor, huffing for breath, fully aware she looked an enormous fool in figurative and literal terms. Somewhere in her rant, Dolly’s head had lolled to the side again, which gave Beau the impression she could, perhaps, sneak out without further embarrassment. The other toys sometimes said Dolly’s true self fugued away years ago; maybe if she made the door before Dolly straightened out, she wouldn’t be mis-

“Oh! Ohhhhhhh! I get it now! You wanna play Big Girl/Little Girl!”

-ssssssssssssssssssssssss-

“You be the little girl and I be the big girl, right?”

-sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss-

“I can do that easy! You shoulda said when we came in, we coulda been at it ages by now! C’mon, up, up, just gotta use your imagination for this one!”

-sed. Through mentally sibilating, Beau let Dolly’s mitten-like hands grasp her overlarge yet slender digits and guide the towering shepherdess to her feet, passively swaying on the spot. From where she stood, she could not possibly imagine how Dolly meant to fulfill the roles as proposed. Half due to still whirling through panic at her shame being so readily accepted, half due to standing some six inches higher than the doll’s crown. Gazing through doubled vision at the knots and kinks of black yarn hair, Beau tried to picture Dolly as the taller of the two, and failed as her mind blanked.

“It’s alright!” Dolly piped up, rags still grasping porcelain. “This is to help you relax, but you gotta do that at least a little to get going!” She stood there, neck considerably craned and mouth brightly curved until Beau adjusted her stance, an honest effort at playing willing participant rather than shellshocked statue. “Great! Now, I’m just gonna…” Dolly shuffled herself back and forth, producing a light scuffing whenever she bumped Beau’s dress. “...and a bit of…” Her head bounced about, hair bobs threatening to shake from their bows. “...aaaaaaand!”

A rag foot went lightly fwuph upon the floor. “Hi there, little girl!” she giggled, looking down. “I’m big girl!”

The air in the room hung still as seconds tip-toed by. Beau measured her options. Responding as Dolly clearly expected didn’t feel right. Walking out ran the risk of Dolly telling someone later. Screaming felt undignified. She settled, somewhat reticently, on polite suggestion.

“Uh, Dolly? I am not entirely sure if you have noticed but… I am… I’m up here? Would it help if I laid down? You might look pretty tall then…”

“Huh!” Dolly kept her eyes fixed firm on the floor between them. “That’s weird! I definitely see little girl Beau down there! She’s sooo tiny! Hi there, lil’ Beau!” Her hand waved carelessly about for a few pendulations, until her forehead wrinkled, her arm slowed, and she asked, “Wait… you’ve never played like this before, have you?”

“Well, I might have roleplayed online some in college, but… look, are you sure I should be standing for this? I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything, but if we’re being open and honest about this, you could try uh… stepping on me to get the point across?”

“Nahhhh, that’s Dommy Mommy, we don’t need to make pretend for that! I mean like… really played! Like when you’re a kid. Tried and tried and tried until you actually believed for a little bit! Here, look, close your eyes and think, ‘I’m real real real real little right now, and Dolly’s suuuuper big,’ and then when I stomp, look up! Give it a try!”

Features blank and uncomprehending, Beau did as she was told anyhow. It felt stupid: if she looked up, she might see the poorly painted roof to Dolly’s foyer a few inches from her face, lit by a weak heat lamp behind a fake cardboard fire, standing on cheap balsa wood, but not Dolly. She was down there, Beau was up here. At the least, she could humor her host. So she leaned her head back and set a mental intonation. I’m small. I have been small since I got here. I am like… like a minifig. Everyone look like mountains. I need friends to carry me everywhere. I can’t tend the sheep because they’re practically mattress warehouses compared to me. That’s me, a pipsqueak, a speck, the smallest girl in Toyland. And I like it this way.

“Okay!” One more, Dolly’s foot went fwuph, signaling Beau to open her eyes. Only this time, several factors shifted radically.

The ceiling, seconds ago so close she might reach to scrape away the peeling paint, now seemed a mile off, details lost in the distance. A steady crackle sung from the fireplace, which flooded the room with a warmth before sorely lacking. Those flimsy strips of balsa felt firm and sturdy as proper oaken hardwood.

And Dolly’s stomp made the whole house shake.

Beau stumbled off her feet and hit the ground hard, yet kept staring upward, mouth agape, verbal expression utterly useless to capture the sight before her eyes. Impossible though it ought’ve been, she now splayed before a great black mound, dust particles still settling round its base. Another, twin to the first, lay some distance to her right, and from both jutted pillars of pure brown fabric, stitchings the length of Beau’s entire body at quick estimate running along the sides of each into… void. No, not a void, merely deep shadow; scootching herself back some, Beau noted a ring of alternating off-whites and dulled-reds, which in turn coalesced into candy cane striping drawing her higher, higher, higher. Past trunklike arms, past a flowered ruff that could drown her home, up to a familiar mouth quirked into a smile, cheek patches glowing more intensely than she’d ever known, button eyes wide, magnified beyond all reason, and trained directly on her.

“There you are, little girl! Told ya you were down there! Hee hee!”

Shrank me. She actually shrank me, Beau thought. Inching back further for a better view, however, she found her understanding of the situation very quickly challenged via her back striking something. What, she couldn’t tell, for when she twisted herself about to check she found only the open expanse of the floor, her frame so small as to readily slide under the couch. Yet, from the scratchy coarseness against her back, tangible even through her considerable layers, Beau knew for a fact she was now pressed firm into Dolly’s sofa.

A deafening coo from above forced her eyes Dollyward again. “Hey, hey, don’t worry! Gonna seem a bit weird, but it’s all part of playing pretend! Long as you and me both think you’re tiny, you actually are, sorta! Big Beau’s still here, she didn’t go anywhere. It’s just you’re ALSO Little Beau now, which means I can do-”

Scrabbling for comprehension, Beau experienced two wholly contradictory sensations at once. In the back of her mind, she dimly perceived Dolly crouching down, scooping both arms underneath Beau, and hefting her up with considerably less difficulty than she handled the far-lighter bag of cotton balls. In active sight, though, clear as day and solid as anything, she watched helpless as Dolly crouched, gently slid a single mitt towards her, brushed her aboard with the other, and tenderly rose back to her full stature. The rush of air nearly knocked Beau flat once more, but she held her ground best she could, no matter how much said ground felt like ever-shifting cotton stuffing just beneath a layer of old cloth. Maybe the existence of proper flooring in top-side reality helped her stay balanced?

Only, no, Dolly didn’t have proper flooring, she lived in a bargain bin dollhouse! That stuff practically bounced under every step on the way in!

But, if Beau was still standing on flimsy balsa wood, how did she keep her footing s-

No, wrong, she wasn’t even standing, she was in Dolly’s arms. On Dolly’s palm. In Dolly’s house, which Dolly now vastly outsized. Only it wasn’t Dolly who was big; Beau was just very, very small. Except…

“-THIS!” Dolly triumphed, shaking Beau from her reverie.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” she murmured to herself, irrespective her lack of stomach.

“Well if you WANT to while playing pretend, you can! Though I wouldn’t like it very much, so please don’t unless you REALLY need to!”

“Okay… okay, okay, alright, so…” Beau did her best to gather her thoughts. Dolly made this somewhat difficult as her enormous hand hovered nearby, gently prodding the miniature shepherdess to and fro (or at least tapping her regular-sized face for similar effect), though Beau found no will to ask Dolly stop. With every bump and subsequent stumble, it became marginally easier to tune out what was really happening, stop thinking of it in such terms. While she could still see and feel the awkward weight lifting job necessary to simulate her palm-bound station, the sink of her feet into the hidden fluff seemed softer, the slight must inherent to ragdolls of Dolly’s vintage permeated deeper, the boom of Dolly’s giggles and the warmth in the room and the sense of having dwindled next to nothing inching towards total believability as her only reality.

“Tiny. Tiny like I always wanted.”

“Yep!”

“On your hand. Like some kind of bug.”

“Uh-huh!”

“Except n-” No, actually. Beau bit back the words, acceptance and embrace seeming easier than interrogating denial. If she pushed too hard, the perceptive spell might break, and she might not find the will to go back. Instead, she shuffled on the spot until Dolly asked a question of her own.

“How do you like it?”

The answer came far easier than expected. “I- I think it’s wonderful. Can all the toyfolk do this?”

“Oh yeah, all the time! For sleeping and eating and washing and all sorts of stuff! But fun stuff like this, you do need two making believe together at least! It can’t do stuff like make you hhhhmmmmmmmmnnngngn, but you can see and feel and do all sorts of things! It’s really really neato!”

Beau opted against asking about the sudden mushmouthing, and instead asked, “And… do you like it? Me like this and you like that?”

Dolly tossed her head in a prideful swish, enough yarn to smother the town square flouncing in reply. “As Toyland’s first and best professional playmate, I like anything my guests wanna do!” Then she leaned in close, so close Beau almost scented something like candy-sweet breath, and added in whisper, “But also you’re SUPER cute like this! Hee!”

With those words, whatever reticence Beau felt melted entirely. She pulled herself to her feet, rushed forward, slammed herself into Dolly’s cheek, and spread her arms to squeeze them against the ragdoll’s cushy face wide and tight as she could manage. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you so much I love it I should have come here months ago!” Mid-nuzzle with a stitch broader than her torso, she caught herself, realizing what must have happened topside with her sudden movement, and coughed, “Oh, uh… sorry if I, you know… bulldozed you there.”

“Don’t worry! I put you down while we were talking! You’re just standing there, still ‘n’ sturdy! Didn’t move an inch! Not that you can unless I want you to~.”

Beau blinked. She achieved total immersion and hadn’t realized. A broad smile lit her face. “Oh, this is going to be so much-”

“FUN!!!”

Dolly’s exclamation sent Beau tumbling backward head over heels. And so - with the quick establishment of safe words and signals - they were off.

As show of gratitude, Beau let Dolly take first point with whatever sorts of games she’d normally prefer. To no surprise, her instincts trended towards childish games, though the sheer size disparity made these more engaging and enjoyable for Beau than had they tried beforehand. Marveling at the seemingly overlarge ragdoll’s deftness as they played patty-cake, bulk slab hands gently bumping against her own and clapping just softly enough to only produce a minor sonic boom. Now and then, Dolly timed her claps to close around Beau, enveloping her playmate in muffling dark and snickering as Beau squirmed within, doing her level best to keep the rhythm while ensnared.

Jumping rope wouldn’t work quite so well under normal circumstances - Beau had no chance of clearing Dolly’s skips, and the idea of Dolly registering Beau’s twirls was laughable. Instead, she placed her mite of a partner in her hair, and told Beau to hang on while she tried at besting her record. At first, Beau found the rapid swish of corded rope overhead and the wild tangle of Dolly’s hair a little frightening, but after the first fifty skips she came to appreciate the experience as a kind of thrill ride. With the right wriggling, she could tuck herself between a few yarn strands, ensure a secure position, and appreciate the doll’s talent for speed step and criss-cross.

All the same, she asked for a game more accommodating her size next, inspiring Dolly to a round of hide ‘n’ seek. This suited Beau quite nicely, though not because she proved a particularly adept hider. She found her options severely limited by where Dolly placed her and how far she could scurry within even a deliberately molasses countdown, which made her discovery inside a minute practically inevitable. Rather, it made a delightful opportunity for exploring the room from her miniaturized vantage point, breath taken away by the cavernous space under the couch, the monolithic quality of knick-knacks on the mantle, the all-swallowing dark of an otherwise light shadow in the connecting hallway, all of it so incredibly convincing through new eyes. If she woke up here with no further context, there wouldn’t pass a second she thought it anything other than a full-scale home.

(One round did go in her favor. She tip-toed her way under the slight heel rise in Dolly’s shoe, and spent several minutes shuffling along with its tread while snickering to herself, grateful Dolly found the act of pretending so natural she never once thought to nudge Beau’s actual body for a hint.)

I Spy proved mainly an excuse for Dolly to walk about the room humming and erring to herself in mock consternation over what to choose, her path always hewing within relative inches of catching Beau underfoot, then spinning about in “sudden” inspiration with, “I spy a cutie pie!” Obviously Beau could not replicate the same effect, especially not while blushing from the compliment (actually, properly blushing, she realized, real heat from her cheeks gone flush); she instead alternated between playing legit and spying “the biggest doll ever.” Either way, Dolly knew her home and herself too well to fail a guess.

They did find time for a brief round of play sheep tending at Dolly’s suggestion, a transitory game to ease Beau into control of their activities. True to her word, Dolly made sure Beau kept from her usual controlling, overly-mannered habits, prodding verbally and physically if she showed signs of slipping. Really, it only took a few of these before Beau conceded entirely and the game turned into one of plonking into cotton balls thrice her height for warmth while Dolly shuffled the others about, generating heat and bleating to herself.

Maybe I should just relax with the sheep from time to time, Beau pondered, her face sinking another half-step into the fluff. If their wool feels half so cozy as I’m imagining, it might do us all some good…

The task of calling time suddenly fell to Beau, alongside Dolly’s head when she slumped face-first into the cotton pile, having put herself to sleep counting cotton ball sheep. A gentle smile on her face despite the sudden jar, Beau pattered on over to shove at Dolly’s cheeks in hopes of rousing the giant. No good, alas. Rule of play made counting sheep dangerous business if one believed in its narcoleptic sway, and nobody on the island adhered to its tenets firmer. Girl was plain out like a light.

Beau contemplated her options. She COULD will her perspective back to normal and wake Dolly in her full-sized body. Or…

She had a much, much better idea. Scuttling at top speed, Beau made a beeline for Dolly’s thigh, half-exposed beneath the folds of her dress. Fortunately the doll’s awkward pose compressed her dimensions somewhat, else Beau would have quite the long run before her. As it were, a mere minute’s running brought her before her destination, a great unmoving wall. The sight could take her breath away, were she not already winded from the sprint over - voluminous dresses did not make good exercise gear. After affording herself a moment’s awe at the sheer expanse of something she thought remarkably slender and floppy just this morning (and to catch her breath), Beau cracked her fingers best she could without breakage, and set to dancing them across Dolly’s rags in a tickle.

At first, no result. Not shocking, for even imagining Dolly’s leg as smooth warm flesh rather than sewn cloths, Beau could only stimulate so much surface area. Movement was necessary, which meant sidling her way inwards, towards hopefully more sensitive patches. Gliding her arms up, down, and in circles on her approach, the hem of Dolly’s dress passing by overhead and necessitating a small adjust in step underfoot, Beau half-hoped Dolly would wake before she pressed too much further… then mentally slapped herself for such idiocy.

“Just snooze long as you like…” she grinned, sliding one step further in, and then another, and another, and another, closer and closer and closer to…

Exactly how deep she went, Beau could not say. When Dolly finally registered the caressing strokes, the lack of unfiltered light and those enormous pillars kicking all about conspired into complete disorientation as Beau was mercilessly thrown about, eventually tumbling out the dress between Dolly’s feet. In spite of the indignity of her situation, Beau found herself laughing alongside the giantess, pounding the floor some at the thought of what she just did until Dolly scooped her back up, and kept on for some time after at that.

“Guess.. hahaha… I guess there goes any formality about my taking point!” she chirped, spreading out on her back and gazing up at Dolly’s staring face.

“Hee, yeah! Being spontaneous can be just as fun as planning things out!”

“...Dolly, did you put yourself to sleep on purpose to see what I’d do on my own?”

“Won’t tell! But it felt good anyways!”

Beau stuck out her tongue, marveled at the fact she could, then stretched and heaved a long sigh. “Do you know, since we went there, I have wondered something about this whole imagination distorting reality thing since we started.”

“Oh?”

“We can make me smaller after a fashion by making believe, but… can we also make you bigger? If both of us pretend really, really hard, like you said?”

Hardly a moment after she posed the question, Beau got her answer, as Dolly simply expanded outward. Attention still fixed on the mini-toy in her hand, smile unwavering as ever, the ragdoll became, unceasingly, more and more. All in their imagination, of course, but Beau’s shrinking happened instantly and involved no changes beyond herself; this was Dolly’s legs crowding her furniture against the wall, Dolly’s back blocking the entryway and sliding along the ceiling as she hunched over, Dolly’s free hand covering and smothering the fireplace in a groping quest for free space. The fact of a process Beau could stand and witness in real time made the already impressive growth near-overwhelming.

As she kept on, the room groaned and the foundations creaked. Beau distantly recalled her observation about Dolly’s weight as insubstantial, realized her contribution to this particular bit of make-believe rendered the ragdoll just so heavy as her size implied, and felt her higher functions black out. From feeling like a mite to a veritable dust speck, she rode out the change, reveling a little every time Dolly shifted on the spot to gain more room or produced a worrying crack at her feet. Whatever this looked like in proper reality, Beau couldn’t give two spits. This was glorious, and that was enough.

If Dolly wasn’t quite human-sized within a minute, she certainly challenged the room’s maximum mass capacity as she tapered off, grunting some in mild discomfort from awkward positioning. Surprising for her composition, yet Beau supposed someone so bendy and soft must too have their limits. Or rather, she would suppose, were her eyes not lit with the delighted sparkling of an entire night’s sky.

“Oh my God, you can, you can actually get bigger, cripes, no, wait, this changes everything, I was expecting you to say no, oh my fffff… Dolly, Dolly how much bigger can you get? Let’s do it, let’s keep going, I want to see it, I wanna climb in your collar and watch you burst this stupid house and go stomping around the island, give everyone the shock of their lives, bigger shock than coming here ever was. Oh, oh, hey, if we get more toys to see you like this does that make it realer? Can we make it more real than your actual body, can we make this permanent? Get you like, fifty feet tall, or whatever that would be proportionate to us? First and best and BIGGEST playmate, can you imagine it? Oh my God oh my God oH MY GOD!!!”

Hyperventilating, Beau let her thoughts run wild in a way she hadn’t entertained since college. She woke up this morning expecting humiliation and disappointment, and now THIS door opened wide just for her? Heaven from straight out hell!

Tragedy, alas, came crashing about her head when Dolly spoke, alongside serious earache from the raw volume of her voice.

“I can, actually! Although, even if it is all pretend, there’s still enough really happening to be uh… a little bit worried? I’m trying super hard to not crush my couch right now. And if I keep growing, I might just sorta appear outside without any damage, or I might break my roof. So… can, but prooooobably shouldn’t?”

Beau sat there, contemplating. She came dangerously close to suggesting all caution go stuff itself in the wind, consumed by overwhelming desire to glut on her deepest fantasies and see this place smashed to splinters as revenge for their inhuman state. Thankfully, a new life of self-discipline paid dividends beyond dragging herself out from bed in the morning, and cooler-headed reasoning prevailed. To face the entity responsible for repairing any beyond-the-pale damage and explain WHY Dolly’s house had a great big Dolly-sized hole in would prove too too much.

“Mmnnnnngh, alright, fine! No ragdoll rampage unless we start another one of these playdates outside. Just… can I have a uh… a kiss before you shrink back d-”

“SURE!”

Escape velocity g-force didn’t compare with the pressure pinning Beau to the spot as Dolly pressed hand to face. Any chance to account why she asked for a kiss when she knew perfectly well Dolly’s mouth was a pasted-on detail with no depth or lips vanished the instant she smashed directly against the red semi-circle. Mwah!’s of thunderous amplitude boomed from every direction, Dolly indulging the request many times over, giving Beau the space necessary to conjure something other than fabric around her person. Same basic principles as all other forms of play, of course, just a matter of picuting what you want to see and feel…

With some effort, the rags morphed. Warmth crept into their fibers, their flat surface splitting and expanding into new volume, a texture like the finest gloss spread over naturally smooth flesh. Beau imagined the twitch of tiny facial muscles pursing and puckering, stretching across micrometers that may so well be miles at her scale, to catch her in the cleft and pull her vacuum tight with the slightest suction. A pop louder than any sound in history as she’s released, only for the phantom process to repeat again, and again, and again.

She leaned into it, thrilling at the tangible contrast between present and imaginary, the hints of plain stitching on those lips and the taste of proper breath intermingling with cotton. Some small (VERY small, all told) part of her wondered again how far she could push this, whether imagining Dolly sucking an infinitesimal bit harder to trap the shepherdess in her mouth would actually transport Beau inside the doll’s head, to mingle with nonexistent teeth and tongue and saliva, the threat of swallowing looming ever closer. And then to properly go through with it - impossible when this wasn’t her real body, but if it WERE, lost in Dolly’s stuffing, forgotten and insignificant as any other piece of debris.

Eaten by a ragdoll. Wouldn’t that plain beat all?

Fortunately, Dolly had her fill of mock-smooching a practically empty palm before Beau could make serious headway on imagining an unaware vore scenario. Or seemingly unaware, as it were. With their minds modestly intermingled for the game’s sake, Dolly sensed Beau’s intentions, and figured it best they move on before she took any rash actions requiring surgical intervention.

“While you recover down there,” she said, voice returning to mere deafening rumbles as she imagined herself back to a sensible size, “we can do something a little like me being big big big BIG girl! Only gotta go the other way round!”

For her part, Beau was less recovering than indulging a passing sulk. Can’t watch Dolly wreck the town, can’t feed herself to Dolly, and now the colossal palm upon which she laid shrank back to mere enormity. S’not fair, this was supposed to be the part where she got to do whatever she liked. If they had to obey rationality and precaution, where was the f- f- ffffffff-

Beau’s mind once again stumbled on drawn-out consonants as she noticed the spatial distortion of her immediate environment reversing polarity. Dolly resumed her usual size, yet her hand, which had seemingly collapsed in on itself, now stretched away from Beau’s central location, at rapid speed and seemingly more gigantic than before. She was shrinking again, in moments as tall to her first shrunken height as it stood against Dolly, and then the same for her second tier, down down down…

“WE CAN GO A LOT MORE EXTREME LIKE THIS, I THINK!”

Porcelain chipped from Beau’s face, the statement slammed her so hard. Yeah. Yeah, that’d do as compensation.

To her mind, she lost days wandering the now-continent of Dolly. Because none of this was strictly happening, her waves and foot-taps for attention were always met with an obliging pinch ride, her requests for another location heard and fulfilled without trouble; but even so, on deposit at her new destination, Beau let time slough clean away. Those candycane stripes represented plains a dozen miles wide and countless miles along, ideal for thoughtless wandering as Dolly lay upon her back. The simple curve of black leather on her shoes became ascent up a slope worthy any seasoned mountaineer, magnificently challenging for a size-obsessive like Beau. She walked the shadow of a single stitch, her hand run along its rim to enjoy the microscopic imperfections bumping through her fingers; she had Dolly bend the flowery ruff round her neck to transform it into the ultimate downhill zip-ride a few too many times over; she closed her eyes, let Dolly select a random patch of rags within the dress, challenged herself to figure where she stood, and blushed quite ferociously when the answer coalesced.

(She figured it only proper to not ask after the meaning behind the massive “S” on a field of red. Breast tats are a private matter, after all.)

The head alone offered endless possibilities. Eyes like a frozen sea on a moonless night, so dark they swallowed all ambient light, so slick Beau practically glid over their surface, the thread holes chasms into an underworld. The forest of yarn-hair at her old size now an endless Amazonian expanse, the weave’s logic lost to miniscule chaos of discarded fuzz and imperceptible shifts, like the environment malforming itself into a maze just to challenge Beau. Bows of a silky softness approaching angelic, tempting sleep everlasting in their flamingo tuck and fold. Cheek patches, radiating mid-summer desert heat, near-intolerable at this size past a single minute, yet how delightful and special a thing to roast in the glow of another’s affection. As to the mouth… well, Dolly wouldn’t let Beau near the mouth again.

A thousand locales upon a doll scarcely over a foot high, so many seemingly identical, yet all stirring in their own unique ways. Between major hot spots, Beau simply stood, immersed, let herself be. By the loose reckoning of time in her head, she must have spent so long upon Dolly that her host got up to attend other matters, looked after her own feeding, sleep, other clients, whole daily cycles interrupted every so often by her adorable germ asking for a new location. Sense dictated Beau should detect Dolly moving about while curled in the crook of her knee, feel gravity shift as the doll changed positions. To think elsewise would render Dolly more than a mere continent - an entire world unto herself, population Beau and no other. Clung to a thin cloth skin, needing and knowing nothing save her new home. Such thoughts flitted through her hollow head, then vanished into wordless euphoria.

As with all things, it soon came to an end. Happily, this ending announced itself via a pleasing rumble.

“HEY, CUTIE! HATE TO SAY WHEN YOU’RE SO COZY, BUT WE ARE ALMOST AT YOUR THREE HOUR LIMIT. YOUR NOTE SAID YOU NEED TO CHECK ON YOUR SHEEP AFTER THAT, SO WE’VE GOTTA GROW YOU BACK. SORRY!”

Though too at peace for the words to seriously disturb her, Beau felt minor confusion at the reminder. “Drat, you’re right, I did set a limit. Except, wow, has it really only been three hours?”

“CLOCK SAYS TEN MINUTES TO GO. I JUST THOUGHT YOU’D NEED SOME TIME TO ADJUST BACK INTO BIG BEAU.”

“Feels as though I spent a lifetime down here…”

“Aw, that’s just how playing pretend gets!” Already Dolly’s voice softened to near-intolerable levels, in tandem with Beau regaining her starting shrunken size. “So, if you close your eyes and picture it real hard, we’ll bring you back up to full size, and then-”

“W-wait!” Beau cried, flailing her arms in a desperate bid for reprieve. “Ten minutes can be practically forever in playtime, right? We have enough left for one last thing!”

Dolly tapped her chin in consideration. “Oh yeah! When you thought we were playing Dommy Mommy, you asked me to step on you! I can do that, hang on!”

“ACTUALLY!” She coughed, shuffling on the spot, eyes cast downward, goading herself into asking plain ‘n’ direct. “It is… it’s a little more than that. Would you mind… if it’s not too much… I mean…” Beau gestured uselessly towards the couch, then groaned. “Dolly, can you sit on me?”

The smile that followed could turn deepest midnight to a midday blaze. “I thought you’d never ask~!”

Imagination served Beau’s reactions well. Breath caught in her chest as Dolly carried her to the couch. Skin ran with prickling goosebumps as Dolly set her down perfect center. Nerves screamed in anticipation as Dolly turned about. Sweat pricked her forehead at the sight of Dolly gathering her dress to draw it tight about her backside. An entire nonexistent system of biological impulses and reactions took in the sight of a perfectly flat, rectangular spread of cotton-stuffed fabric leaning back over her position, compared it against the expected list of sexually exciting imagery, ruminated for the briefest of instants, and ran back a report: “Yeah, no, this is still stupid fucking hot to us too.”

Beau squeaked.

WUMPH.

All shape and sense fell away. No chance she’d ever think Dolly slight after this. The only sensation Beau processed was unrelenting weight - Dolly’s complete nothing of a frame crushing her into a flat surface whose wool texture vanished beneath the fact of a single pound turned poundage uncountable by a simple difference in scale. Some part of her wanted to believe Dolly shifted herself back and forth some, rubbing in her position of dominance, but in the moment, the difference between supposition and reality was practically nil. Dolly might do anything up there, and all Beau would know is compression, and paralysis, and weight.

A particularly eager voice in the back of her head had demanded she repeat something like her trick during the earlier kiss, summon up the sensation of a proper person’s rear to enhance the sensation. Run it through a dozen dozen body types to smother herself beneath every manner of human Dolly she could imagine. Completely impossible, now, stupid to have assumed any choice. She was undoubtedly underneath a doll, at the mercy of as sexless a humanoid thing as you please, impressions of curved flesh totally denied by hand-sewn, unendowed textiles. And God help her if the alienation from anything like the human form didn’t make this ten times better, just by mere association with Dolly.

She tried to squirm. She tried to struggle. No use. If Dolly fell inanimate right now, they’d blow clean past her stopping time, perhaps leave her trapped by this wonderfully unbearable pressure all day, all night, however long until someone thought to check on the ragdoll. And if they did check, rouse her or pull her from the couch, would they care to notice the speck she ground into its seating? Could they notice? Beau wanted to shudder at the thought, but could not. She did not kick, nor flail, nor much of anything else. She took the weight, for there was nothing else to do.

(Except, briefly, ponder whether that Barbie doll and her bendy girlfriend might like to try this. Hard plastic held an appeal all its own…)

And then it was over. Light and sound flooded from above as Dolly hoped from her spot, leaving Beau to reel back into normal consciousness. “Alright, we’re inching pretty close here, so we really gotta finish off! Your sheepies are gonna get lonely if you don’t head out soon!”

Denied the ability so thoroughly for so long, Beau fidgeted on the spot. “I mean… you did say I work myself and them alike too hard. Who’s to say staying longer won’t help?”

“Naaaaaah. Besides, I got me-things to do still! Can’t give Little Beau my attention all day!”

“Little Beau can just sit in your collar while you work! Or get put on your shelf and abandoned until…”

“Hey.” Dolly knelt down by the couch, positioning her face on even level with the shrunken shepherdess. “I get it. You wanna play all the time, never stop being Little Beau. And I do too! It’s lots and lots and lots of fun being the first and best professional playmate in Toyland! But you gotta stop sometime, right? Do what you gotta do outside playtime.”

Beau stood, turned her back, crossed her arms, huffed. “But we agreed being Big Beau is bad for me. I haven’t felt this happy and relaxed since I came to Toyland! Why should I go back to acting stuck-up and high-strung all the time?” To her surprise, the last part came out with a slight whine round the edge.

Her ears heard the rough scrape of fabric on fabric as Dolly rubbed her chin in contemplation. “Maybe you’re only like that as Big Beau because you never take the time to be Little Beau. Maybe you spent so much time doing what you think you need to do, you don’t turn off and be what you want. So Big Beau is bossy and stiff, and Little Beau overdoes it and doesn’t wanna stop. Maybe you just gotta find the right balance!”

Beau sniffled, reluctant to turn about.

Arms scooped around her, both miniaturized self and true self, the latter invisible to her eye yet right next to her on the couch. The vertigo of existing across two perspectives clouded her head again as Dolly hefted her high for one last hug. “You can always come by again whenever you got time in your schedule, yeah?” She gave a gentle squeeze, warming Beau to her core. “Little Beau ain’t going away; she’s sleeping so Big Beau can have her turn. They’re not different people! Just, y’know… sides!”

Beau did her best to hug back, simultaneously too small and too big to do so properly. Although she suspected Dolly did not quite take her own advice… “You are right, Dolly. I will keep an eye open for when I have time. And cherish what we have done already. Thank you, so very, very much.”

“No problem!”

The spell broke.

Dolly’s legs wobbled. Without the power of play rendering Beau’s body lighter than a feather, her cotton-stuffed limbs were not equipped to hold a doll half her height over and thrice her weight so high aloft. The pair teetered for a moment, then went crashing to the floor.

“...is there any chance you are into being sat on yourself?” Beau joked.

“Not really! Can you pretty please get up?”

“Fair.” Uncrumpling her dress and unsnagging strands of hair from the floor, she rose back up, steadying against the suddenly unfamiliar yet already normalizing vantage point of her normal toy self. “Do I owe you anything for the service? I know most toyfolk avoid financial exchange unless they have a fondness for Monopoly money, but I figure it best to ask in case…”

“Lemme hang out with your flock sometime and we’re evens Stevens!”

***

Later in the evening, Beau lay awake in bed, echoes of the day’s experiences ringing in her head.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she'd done as she’d planned: stand over her flock, moving them from one end of the pasture to another and back again. Absent the ordinary pressures and obligations of tending livestock, she spent years engaged in this on the daily out of obligation, obligation and belief fastidious attendance might purify her wrongdoings. With Dolly’s session at her back, however, today she took a different set of words to heart and tried to have fun with the job. It was not easy, divorced from such immense gratification (and immense presence…), and she was not sure she did it right, but her sheep seemed appreciative when she let them run free from her command for a time. Bleated approval and followed when she broke into a spontaneous run. Stood willingly as she hugged them at day’s end, imagining each a cotton ball.

Her friends took immediate notice at dinner. Genuine notice, no snark or innuendo, which characterized their original suggestions. “Good one, Beau!” “Can’t believe what a difference I’m seeing, you MUST tell me what she did in there.” “I have never seen you this laid back, it’s a miracle.” When they partook in a night-closing chaser, Beau actually deigned to stay and take a drink herself - for the first time, she felt the slightest buzz from sipping the empty cup, prompting cheers and claps on the back.

Tipsiness wasn’t the only novel sensation in the hours since. Her own home seemed friendlier. The lights provided proper illumination where once they offered dim, faltering glow; the personal effects on her dresser seemed almost serviceable makeup options rather than cheap plastic imitations; the floor no longer groaned under her step, the doorframes accommodated her figure a little more willingly.

Her pillow felt of soft down, her blankets a comfortable fleece. The rickety, long-hated foam strip masquerading as a mattress: just like the one she remembered back home.

How had she gone this long without a spark of vibrancy in her life? Convinced Toyland was this dead, unchanging place, cut off from the joys small and large which made a life worth living? In honesty, likely the same way she went her human life convinced of the same. Self-isolation, presumption of living as an inherent misery, refusal to look up and see what’s actually there without turning about and running. She wanted to feel shame at the thought it took effectively a private kink roleplay session to realize one only need want the full scope of offerings to find them all around… but in the name of balance, swatted the thought aside. Take the good where you can, she thought, that is the real important thing.

And besides. If she learnt of this aspect to the rule of play any other way, she’d never think to do this.

Eyes laid gently closed, Beau rearranged her perspective. While the sensation could not match the strength possible with Dolly’s cooperation, she did not need full intensity in her sleep. Even the faintest impression of her body dwindling until the bed felt sensibly proportioned would help. Somewhere between the extremes, just enough to fit, and settle in, and snooze. If Big Beau and Little Beau needs must cooperate to improve both their lots, they can start by making sure Beau Beau gets some good rest.

Beau rolled on her side, and, for the first time since her arrival, felt at peace in Toyland.

#Misfits in Toyland #Fanfic #Drabble #Dolly MiT #Beau #macro/micro

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gumnut-logic · 3 months

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Óen (Part 1)

Okay, I've been egged on repeatedly by the wonderful @idontknowreallywhy to have a go at this, but I'm a little nervous cos I've never written any HTTYD fanfic ever and am a bit short on the canon in my head, so be kind as I make up a pile of stuff as I go along.

This is a Thunderbirds Are Go and How to Train Your Dragon crossover and I'm chewing fingernails..

Many thanks to both @onereyofstarlight and @idontknowreallywhy for their support in this insanity.

This little bit is just set up so don't expect much, but I hope you enjoy it. My apologies to Toothless.

-o-o-o-

Hiccup Haddock III was an idiot.

Toothless, the midnight black night fury he was currently clinging to, no doubt agreed.

“I’m sorry, bud, you were right. We should have gone back earlier.” The words were whipped from his mouth by the raging winds, but as always, Toothless heard him regardless.

A deep rumble in the dragon’s throat, vibrating against Hiccup’s thighs, indicated agreement on all fronts.

Hiccup should have known better. He’d seen the signs of changing weather but had ignored them, convincing himself they had a few moments longer. Unfortunately, said weather had disagreed and whipped up one of those sudden storms that had Berk locked down and huddled away.

Except Hiccup and Toothless were in the middle of the ocean with no protection.

He grit his teeth against the wind, desperately attempting to help Toothless manage their flight. At first, he had tried for home, his dragon friend whacking him with an ear flap in annoyance…always listen to your dragon…but the conditions had changed so abruptly for the worse, that now it was a case of desperately trying to keep aloft and not slammed into the ocean.

They had tried for height, Toothless as always knowing exactly how high they were, in an attempt to get above the storm. But the thunderheads went on forever and they reached as high as Hiccup could go - Toothless could always go higher, but he didn’t seem inclined to do it carrying a frozen friend on his back.

Toothless snarled and then attempted speed, trying to get out of the squall. But Thor had other ideas and along with several lightning strikes that had Hiccup’s hair standing on end, despite the wind and now the sleet, it soon became a struggle to stay in the sky at all, much less attain any directional speed.

And now they were in trouble.

Astrid was going to kill him if he managed to ever see her again.

Dad…

Dad, as always was the reason he was out here in the first place. Just another day where father and son just couldn’t see eye to eye. Another day that found Hiccup fleeing on Toothless and no doubt Stoick the Vast ranting in the smithy with Gobber.

Ice bit into his skin.

Beneath him, Toothless growled in alarm as they were suddenly swept sideways and down.

“Toothless!”

His friend’s wings struggled against the gale, but were snapped back, his growl turning into a wail of pain.

The wind took them and Hiccup could do little but cling to Toothless as they were swept into a dark and violent maelstrom.

-o-o-o-

It was all sensation after that. Toothless fighting beneath him. Pain. Freezing everything.

Screaming darkness.

This was it. His own stupidity, not listening to his dragon, and forever being fearful of his father and the future. It all had finally done him in.

Hiccup the Idiot.

Saved Berk, but was too stupid to save himself.

A sudden yank upwards against the wind startled him. But before he could react something grabbed him.

What?!

He was lifted from Toothless. A tug as his safety line pulled then fell slack as if snapped. No!

NO!

He struggled but it was too dark and whatever had him, had a solid grip. “Toothless!”

The wind raged but he wasn’t falling. He attempted to fight himself free, but his arms were pinned to his sides and he couldn’t…

“Toothless!”

The wind whipped the name from his mouth.

Toothless was gone. He had to be. His dragon couldn’t fly without him. His thoughts swirled like the wind battering his senses and he clenched his eyes shut in grief. Toothless!

“You’re going to be okay.”

The words were heavily accented and heard mostly through whatever he was held against, and he only heard them because the winds were dying.

The winds were dying.

Hiccup flung his eyes open. He was flying. But not on Toothless. His heart lurched.

He was on another dragon, black and silver danced beneath a dark grey sky. In the distance the sun managed to peek through over a bunch of islands fading into the grey sea.

“Toothless!”

“Óen has your dragon. Don’t be worried.” There was such surety in that voice, Hiccup had to believe.

“Who?”

“Scott o’ Clan O’Treasaigh and Óen. We’re here to rescue you.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #how to train your dragon #httyd #crossover #thunderbirds fanfiction #httyd fanfiction #nuttyfic #I haven't written outside of Thunderbirds fandom in over a decade #a little terrified?#of many things #but there has been some research #and a pile of thought to get this to work

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rreskk · 7 months

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Here he comes again

AAAA, okay, okay. So I haven't been posting as much as I want to. I know I've got so many requests (THANK YOU ALL) and I'll try my best to get through them all. College has been busy, work has been busy, I'm driving, got some people to see. It's all busy busy busy, but I'd never abandon writing :) So here is a fanfic I've been writing for the past few days. I'm saaaaddddd about losing activity, but I swear, I'll keep uploading more. THANK YOU!

Summary: He's an awkward fling with weird feelings aside. There's lots of unresolved tension that had finally been sorted through a more physical solution.

TW: -Smut

Word count: 2771

Pairings: Fem!reader/North Yankton!Trevor Philips

You met this guy back in North Yankton. Well… He was unusual, to say the least. The locals you were familiar with were all Catholic-Christians, elderly, retired, drifters. It was an unusual place within the snowy abyss. However, when you were within a mile radius of bars or hotspot strip-joints, you’d end up seeing “them” sort of people. And when you mean “them”, you really mean “him”.

Moustache, eyebrow scars, blood-stained shirt collars, 15 year old work boots, a decade’s worth of eye-bags, this grainy toothy grin, thinning hair; mullet (to be precise). Not to mention the height and state of his physique. He was tall enough to bend down through doorways but thin enough to cut through wired fences and sprint from authorities. That’s what you mean when saying “him”. He looked like he walked fresh out of a 70s porno with playgirls and tacky sluts. You didn’t like him at first. He was brash and uninviting. You’d meet through the local bar scene, and since then, he’s been repeatedly knocking offence and welcoming himself into your personal life.

He was called Trevor Philips.

You’d know because, well, you had slept with him. Many times. Most were drunk. However, though he was annoying and inconsiderate of your privacy, he was addicting. You’ve never seen a guy like him before. That manic pirate look and clothes riddled of low-quality weed and horrid body odour – it was oddly charming! Besides… His eyes were too hypnotising. You ended up growing closer, and closer, and closer, until most nights you were crying bloody murder in his rented out motel room.

Trevor was frightfully good at making sex transactable. He had a talent of pulling on your strings, angering you, then rolling around in the bedsheets to relieve the tension he playfully causes (for fun). He was also animalistic with his desires. You tried to hold many grudges against him, due to his life-style and criminality, yet he’d walk through like he owned you.

This current time was different. Trevor had mentioned going out with the guys; Michael and Bradley. You’ve never met them, nor would you want to. You both kept your social lives separate from each other to avoid merging circles and creating a land of Hell equivalent to Dante Inferno’s Divine comedy. Nonetheless, you paid no attention to his whereabouts before there was a heavy stomp at your front door. You’d answer, and no one was there. Assuming it was the youthful trouble-makers who tried to poke some fun in this town, you retreated back to bed and hugged the coffee mug close to your chest until your bedroom window clasped open.

“Fuck!” You yelped and coward in your covers.

The crispy winters air would flow and destroy the heat you had generated that day. The curtains flustered open to reveal a lanky figure crawling through the tight crack. You initially accused this of a home-invader and raised your mug to strike before their hand stopped your panicked outburst.

“Chill the fuck out!”

And you’d recognise the voice, frowning.

“Trevor.” You spitefully spat.

He grunted when landing on your bedroom floor, ignorantly leaving the window open, freezing your cosy bedroom. He wore a green parkers coat and some worn-out joggers, which he usually wore. Every day.

“Hey, sugar.” Trevor erratically smiled and lifted his head for a kiss. But you refused.

“What the fuck are you doing – climbing through my bedroom like that?”

He defensively stood to his feet, “Woah. I came to visit and this is what I get?”

“I thought you were out with “the guys”, not creeping on me. Why didn’t you use the fucking door? Like a normal person?” You exclaimed, feeling the temperature torment your lack of clothes.

Trevor rolled his eyes sassily. He was delusional to think he had done nothing to break a boundary. He simply threw off his coat and jumped onto the bed sheets beside you. The whiff of his bodily scent sent your nostrils into a fierce flashback of world war 2 trenches.

“The window was easier to your bedroom. What’s the big fuckin’ deal? I ain’t no peeping Tom. And if I was, it would be okay since we fu– “

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You sighed.

“Oh, c’mon…” He began, “Don’t be like that. I didn’t just break my fuckin’ back to be whined and bossed around.”

“I’m not bossing you around.”

“I’m not bossing you around.” Trevor mocked in a childish voice. Your face tensed up with frustration before he giggled and crawled on top of you, his hands holding your shoulders down. You were pressed against the mattress unwillingly. You glared up at him, but it was dismissed.

“Clear your schedule, I’m horny.” He’d usher, his moustache tickling your jaw.

“Stop, don’t – “

“Mmm, fuck, you taste good.” That slimy tongue began tormenting your neck and jaw. It was such a sudden sensation that you had pushed him off, protesting something inaudible, then correcting yourself more clearly for his ears.

“Stop, enough. Please?”

“Fine, I’ll just slash my wrists then.” His tone dropped into a disturbingly low grumble. He shuffled away from your body and went to grab his coat again. You reached out, grasping his sleeve, stopping him from walking off in his usual pout. Trevor huffed and tried to resist your touch.

“Hey, hey,” You muttered, “Come here, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Stop being fuckin’… Bipolar or whatever!” Returned his manic state, “I just want you! Fuck! Is that so much to ask?”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired. It’s been a busy day.”

“Damn right it has. Been so busy you didn’t fuckin’ call me back?”

“Trevor.” You groaned.

“What? I’m sorry I’m a human with thoughts, feelings, and emotions.” He held a hand to his chest, ranting on about his subjective perspective of how you should treat him; a man-baby.

“I know you are. Now come back. You didn’t come here for nothing, right?” You’d try to urge him closer so he could refrain from having an impulsive temper meltdown, or literally slash his wrists.

“This place is so lonely. I liked it when Mikey wasn’t so cold and all. The guy turned into a real wet-wipe. And fuckin’ Brad? He’s alright. The guys a blast to party with, but I just want… I wanna cuddle, it’s been ages.” Trevor melted into your arms and stuffed his red nose (caused by either cocaine or the freezing weather) between your clothed breasts.

“We can cuddle, that’s fine – “

“Why didn’t you answer my calls anyway?” He eruptively asked.

Thinking about it now, your home telephone never rang. You’d assume he had maybe called the wrong number, but yet again, this was Trevor; he never forgets your number, or any… Weird details about your life. You’ve learn this from the 3rd hookup you both shared and he scared you with remembering your exact birthdate, timings, etc… The creepy thing was, you never told him.

“Huh? The lines might’ve been cut off.”

“There ain’t been a storm since last week.”

You nodded at him, “Yeah, but they are working near the power station – maybe they messed with the telephone lines.”

Trevor didn’t seem pleased about this and grumbled a small “fuck them” in your chest again.

“But you were too busy to call, right?” You’d wonder out loud considering a day out with “ the boys” meant 24 hours doing god knows what, with god knows who.

He went silent before breathing out a heavy weight from his shoulders and glaring down at your shirt. It took some moments to recollect his thoughts, struggling to answer when he clearly told you in the past that he hated being questioned. It wasn’t his strongest point, understanding why you even care.

“We went to the joint, took a few lines and shit then “Mr. Perfect family man” decides to blow the fuckin’ fun! I tried to give him a few more drinks but the prick refuses and sits there like a pile of turd. I called you then my crappy credit ran out, so I left – no drama, why’d you care?” And he spat out the last part aggressively.

“I was curious.”

“Oh, so you don’t care?”

You’d frown, “I do care. Why else would I be curious?”

Trevor went silent again. He gazed into your eyes, calculating your honesty, then snuffled back into your shirt before the restriction irritated him. He tugged and tugged with a petty scowl. You were too slow to react, his tongue running his mouth again.

“Your shirt is pissing me off!”

“Trevor, you need to slow it down…” Allowing him to free your chest, you’d give him a word of advice as his mood have been up and down within the past 10 minutes.

Your breasts bounced before his eyes and he pounced. Trevor’s nasty lips pecked small hickeys around your chest area when you tried to speak again. He silenced you, nipping at your nipple with his yellow teeth, smirking when you gasped sensually.

“Easy, sugar.” His warm breath bullying the crook of your neck.

Not wanting to neglect the previous conversation, you’d shakingly speak despite his horridly beautiful touch and kisses. Trevor’s head would cower even lower until he reached your tummy, licking strips and ignoring every attempt of your dismay. At this point, there was no going back. Your body relaxed against him and he seemed to appreciate your final decision – resting his chin on your stomach with a sly smirk. No words were spoken, he simply stared up at you with eyes of lust.

“What?” You hazily questioned.

“Nothin’…” Trevor continued to kiss throughout mumbling, “Just fuckin’ enjoying my girl.”

“Ah…” Your cheeks blushed, avoiding his eye-contact.

“You like that? When I call you my girl?” He grinned.

“I didn’t say anything! – “

“But your eyes did.”

You raised an eyebrow and watched him giggle.

“I saw the way you turned shy.” He continued.

“Fuck you…”

Two hands tugged at your waist, flipping you both over as you crashed down onto his groin. You’d look down at him. Trevor had positioned you on top with a cheeky smile that already told you what he wanted. Them needy hands kept patting at your hips and ass, encouraging you to play along with his giddiness.

“I like the sound of that,” His voice husky due to your weight on his lower stomach, “I like that a lot.”

Suddenly, the room had gotten extremely heated, even through the baring window that squirted cold, crispy air. Maybe it was his body heat that had made you begin to sweat through your bra and loose trousers. Your forehead glistened with this sweat, and it caught his eye. He too was fairly humid as the white shirt closely hugged his body, not enough to print his sweat though.

“Stay still.”

His instruction had made you sit steady on his lap before you felt the slimy surface of his tongue wiping away the extract of your sweat. Trevor had sat up just to taste your forehead, and he smirked once you pushed him back against the bed. Them hands around your ass only grew heavier, groping you hard.

“Slow down!” You protested with a soft laugh.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh, but I did.”

Trevor’s nose twitched at your playfulness. He sceptically analysed you like a game.

“Maybe you did.” There was a hint of uncertainty behind his voice.

“And are you gonna comply?”

The question was left hanging as he handled you manically, trying to avoid this confrontation that had made him… Excited. Very excited.

“Trevor.” Your stern voice sent shivers down his spine.

“Yeah, what? – “

“And you gonna do what I tell you?”

He nibbled his bottom lip, “Maybe.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said maybe.”

“What does maybe mean?”

“Fuck…” He was visibly impatient, “It means… Fuckin’… Whatever! It means yes! Fucks sake.”

You had finally overcame the barrier of his stubbornness. Trevor pouted until you had leaned down, hungrily kissing his lips to exile the unwanted tension spurting from the overall situation. He immediately kissed back and puffed out breathes with arousal. Your ass was slapped, back was clawed, lips swollen red. Although you have the upper hand by being on top, it didn’t stop him from holding you against his raging boner, guiding your hips to smoothen the twitchy mess.

“Yeahhh.” Sweet moans left his throat at this friction created between your trousers. It vibrated through the kiss as you inhaled every savour of his fragile state.

“C’mon, I want you.” You whispered when dry riding his crotch. Repeating these dirty pleads had made him melt rotten. Trevor’s mouth was wide open and he was reached for your waist. It was like the arousal had restrained his mobility.

In momentary time, his cock was freed and you were massaging the last of his pre-cum to ooze away so the time was ready for a full physical. His fingers intertwined with your free hand, a comforting gesture he rarely ever did. It was a weird feeling – but you liked it. This random hookup felt more personal and intimate. Trevor basically guided you by the hips, praising as you slowly sat on his penis and making him gasp out a heavy, abnormal parody of painful moans. You used his shoulders for stability when you began riding him.

He was loud, obnoxious. Every time you moaned yourself, his one happened to echo throughout your bedroom, and it wasn’t even a big, nor empty room. It was exciting to hear. Trevor moaned your name consistently and begged for more of your touch whenever your pussy suffocated his desperate cock. His shirt that was once hogging his body was actually reeked with sweat. His face was blushed and neck drooling with the sweat produced overtime. You’d occasional wipe it with your thumb but he stopped you, wanting all your focus on him, nothing else.

“That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it! Christ, fuck! Oh YES!” He’d cry out.

“Trevor, oh… God.”

He kept guiding you onto his cock, bounce after bounce. With quick momentum, Trevor’s body jerked as a result of the troubling orgasm arriving. He watched your tits flap, hips crash against his, eyes roll back. When you were gasping for air as you rode his erection, his lips eagerly kissed up and down your neck, pestering you with unlimited love.

“Trevor… Trevor!” Your pitch increasing due to the intensity.

“I love you, fuckin’… Ah! – “ His palms sweating, “I love you, I love you!”

The grip around your hips loosened and he fell backwards onto the mattress. His eyes closed and chest inhaling sharply. Your whole pussy shuddered when his cock trembled, semen spurting out deep inside you. It was a sharp shot, the heat growing more inside. Trevor was immensely weak from the orgasm. Throughout the distorted moans of your name, he forced you to continue riding through the climax. He ignored his own cum running down your thighs and his penis. He ignored it all, instead, he kept his full sets of eyes on you.

“C’mon…”

You dug your fingernails into his shoulders and cried –

“Trevor! I’m gonna! – “

“That’s it, cum for me.”

“Trevor!”

He huskily growled, “C’mon, [y/n]… Atta girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ah!” You mounted his cock with your wettened sex. Your pussy cuddled the tip nicely, coating the remaining skin sticky with your fluids.

“Ohhh… That’s right, perfect…”

“Fuck,” You were out of breath, “God, it felt so good.”

“Didn’t it, sugar?” Trevor pulled you into his embrace. Your forehead brushed against his moustache, your breathing growing slow together after the climax had passed by. He placed his chin upon your head and murmured once again;

“Mm, I wanna stay the night.”

“You wanna stay the night here?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah… Alright.”

“Good, ‘cause you ain’t got a double bed for nothin’.” He muttered.

“What’s the muttering for?”

“What’s the muttering for?” You were mocked once again.

You’d roll your eyes and offer him more place on the bed. Trevor smirked, hogging as much of the duvets when giving you a wink.

“Maybe I can stay the night after – as well?”

“Don’t get your hopes too high.”

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gentle-sparda · 3 months

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Dante & Vergil HC

Very first tumblr post, decided it would be my HC of both dante and vergil. This carries over to all of my fanfics involving these two. <3 Including my au, a modern day au i’ll explain later on as i get comfortable posting on here ( =ノωヽ=)

(forgive me for any misspellings )

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾ ≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

These apply to both brothers

Height: 6’5

Both have tails, Dante's being noticeably longer

Ages from each game; DMC3: 19, DMC1: 28, DMC2: 34 DMC4: 38, DMC5: 42

Mix of Italian and American genes (They speak both languages although dante struggles with a few words here and there)

Dark skinned, dante being darker

Have cat instincts includes: Hissing, yowling, tail raising when aggravated, kneading instincts, claws that grow from their nail positions

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Dante:

Eyebags are 100% darker than anyone, He has trouble sleeping at times

Always wants to have the last word, even if it isn’t an argument

He can cook, he just needs more practice

He has the tendency to tail wag more than his brother ( ( =ω= ) i guess you can say he acts more like a dog rather than a cat at times.)

LOVES sunbathing, A good nap sitting where the sun shines always heals him mentally

He has the smell of smoked wood, with the smallest hint of vanilla.

I fully believe he collects hoodies that are sizes bigger than his (the struggles of being tall prevent him from hoarding hoodies.)

His tail scales seem to shed more often than vergil’s

His beer belly gets more prominent as years pass by

Stretch marks cover his stomach and arms from his strong build he developed

Cow boy boots, he owns lots of them, absolutely loves the design

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Vergil:

He has the stare of death itself

When he gets angry he pulls out his mental dictionary and uses big words (it always manages to confuse dante)

Cooks course meals, knows every drink a bartender would know, despite hating alcohol (hes a very light weight person, despite his demon power he can only handle one cup)

Way more of a cat instinct of a guy,

Want to know how he’s feeling? Just look at his eyes and tail, It’s size of the pupils change depending on how he feels, the sway of his tail also connects to his mood

Unlike his brother, vergil has horns developed from the power he gains

He has a smell of cold mint, a sharp but charmfull scent

Hes more prone to knead the air as he sleeps, he neglects his cat like instincts and it emerges stronger than ever at night ( Sometimes he ends up ripping any fabric his claws dig in to)

When he reads he spaces out entirely, he gets lost in the books, if he could spend all day reading he would

He trained his demon instinct to slow down his hunger, therefore his body became scrawny than dante’s thick body. It has it’s positive and negative aspects

#devil may cry #dmc #dmc dante #dmc vergil #headcanon #alternate universe #first post

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duckymcdoorknob · 4 months

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𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝔂 16: 𝓤𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓽

Welcome to tkcember guys.

I wonder how long it’ll take me to do these.

Idk but it sure will be fun to try and finish them before the year is out

Can you tell I’ve relapsed into my Tokyo revengers phase? Jesus CHRIST this is longer than most fics I’ve written

Not much tickles, I just wanted an excuse to write “everyone loves Chifuyu bc he’s like their little brother”

—This do have tickles in it ngl— tw below the cut: mentions of injury and violence

Tags: @fanfic-chan @ticklish-n-stuff @giggly-squiggily @chrimsss @fanfic-chan @nataliewritez happy tokrev y’all

Baji knew that being in a gang—and being so high up in command in said gang— would mean a loooot of trouble. He knew that it meant coming back home with a shit ton of bumps and bruises very frequently. What he didn’t expect was how bad it would affect him when he saw his friends coming back banged up.

First, it was Mitsuya. He had gotten into a tousle with some grunts from Valhalla over something minuscule. He won, no doubt, but Baji remembers him being unable to turn his head to the left for DAYS.

Then, it was Draken. Him and Mikey had run into some third years on their way back from lunch. They beat them with minor injuries, but Draken took a huge blow to his head to protect Mikey. Baji remembers him being unable to leave the couch for a good few weeks.

And now?

His heart shattered as Chifuyu dragged himself through the door of Takemichi’s home, where they all were hanging out that day. Baji’s loud gasp turned everyone’s eyes toward the beaten blonde. “Chifuyu…”

The boy was riddled with scrapes and bruises, some cuts still bleeding, others coated with caked-on dry blood. He was gripping his shoulder and limping a bit, his whole body shaking.

Big-Bro Mitsuya was at his side in an instant, kneeling down to his height to help him shrug off his jacket and remove his shoes. No words were exchanged between the two, only a terrified look from the white-haired boy as he examined every inch he could take in with his eyes.

“Chifuyu…” Mikey’s terrifyingly calm voice sounded as he appeared next to the duo, “What the hell happened? Tell me… now.”

Sighing, the younger boy hung his head low slightly. He seemed to be ashamed of himself and his actions. Chifuyu didn’t speak as everyone stared at him, merely trembling instead. Baji stood from the couch he was on and tapped the newly opened seat. “Let him sit.”

The stares never faltered as he dragged himself to the couch—with help from Mitsuya and Mikey of course—and smacked himself face down on the fluffy piece of furniture, sighing loudly in relief.

“Chi’ you look awful… will you please just tell us? Or even if you wanna whisper and just tell me?” The long-haired boy knelt down beside him, carding his fingers through the unkempt puff of blonde hair.

He buried his face into the cushion and uttered two words: “high schoolers.”

Takemichi gasped quietly. He had fought high schoolers? And lived to tell the tale?!

“Chifuyu, what in the fresh hell were you thinking?” Draken’s stern tone did not help to hide the evident concern lacing his words.

Chifuyu picked his head up, resting it on his forearms, his speech still a bit distorted. “I couldn’t help it, promise! I was going to the convenience store on the corner to get us meat buns; but before I went inside, I noticed this girl. An aisle over were these three high-schoolers, watching her every move through their peripheral. She looked uncomfortable, so I went to ask if she needed to be walked home, and she said she would like that.”

The group waited with baited breath for the story to continue.

“As soon as we walked out, they began to follow. She lives near here, so I made sure to take the confusing route. Y’know, the one by the bank?” The boy grimaced as he readjusted his position, shaking Baji’s hand off his head (to which the brunette took no offense.) “Even then… every single damn turn, they were ten paces behind us. Finally, I called out to them and told them to ‘leave my girlfriend and I alone.’ Stupid, I know.”

“Doesn’t seem stupid to me. I’d’ve done the same,” Mitsuya hummed from the kitchen, engrossed in the cabinet, pill bottles rattling as he rummaged around.

“They obviously didn’t believe me. They noticed my jacket and jumped me before I could even get another word out…”

“And the girl?” Mikey asked, anxiety hidden on his tongue. Everyone knew that Mikey was quite serious about the belief in his gang members respecting any female that entered their lives.

“I panicked and pulled a Takemichi,” the blonde confessed.

“…Meaning?”

“I turtled.”

A snort from Draken helped to lighten the mood a bit, but all were still listening nervously to Chifuyu’s tale. “I kept apologizing for being on top of her, and I felt terrible for putting her in such an uncomfortable position, but I just threw myself over her as a shield. I was so worried about her that I just let myself get the shit kicked out of me.”

Takemichi leaned forward attentively. “How did-“

“By the grace of the gods, your friends were passing by to go to your house at the time. Akkun managed to knock one of them square in the jaw, and that let Yamagishi sneak in and get the girl out from under me. Him and your other two friends rushed away to get her to her house. Akkun and I fought like hell, and thankfully we managed to take them down… not without me taking a couple more blows first.”

At that moment, Mitsuya returned from Takemichi’s kitchen. He placed the contents of his hands on the glass table in front of the couch, mirroring Baji’s knelt position. “Draken, you’re closest. Please, help sit him up.”

The tattooed male nodded and carefully placed his hands on each side of Chifuyu’s torso, the boy whining as his body was moved. “I know… I know… Mits’ is gonna fix you up.”

Pain medicine was administered, water was consumed, as was a very small amount of a chocolate chip granola bar. Soon enough, the injured boy was laying flat on his stomach again, with Mitsuya holding a small tube in front of his face. “Now, Chifuyu. Someone’s gonna help to put this on your back. Who do you-”

“Baji.” Zero hesitation was heard in the blonde’s voice..

Mitsuya handed the tube of icyhot to Baji, and hooked his fingers on the corners of the boy’s shirt. “Are you ready?”

“…”

“Chifuyu?”

“Its gonna scare you… I’m sorry. It looks worse than it is. I swear.”

The back of Chifuyu’s shirt was pulled up. His once soft, unblemished skin was riddled with scrapes and bruises, along with four large, red boot marks.

“Oh Chifuyu…” Mikey whispered, “how long were they hitting you?”

The blonde whined as he hid his head. He turned it, however, when he felt a small puff of air on his cheek. Baji had blown on his face to get his attention, not wanting to touch his dearest friend without his permission.

“Are you ready? I’ll tell you what I’m doing every step of the way,” Baji waited patiently for the response.

“Please just… be gentle?”

“I always am.”

Truth be told, this was not the first time that Baji had had to help Chifuyu take care of his injuries while the boy was completely out of commission. He always knew to warn Chifuyu before he did anything, because the blonde had always been jumpy and scared of touch after a fight.

“Okay, I’m going to go on your shoulders first,” the brunette explained as he rubbed some of the medicine between his hands. “Here we go. One, two, three.” He lowered his hands into his friend’s shoulders and began to slowly and delicately rub against his skin.

Chifuyu sighed a bit and relaxed after his body realized it was just Baji. He closed his eyes and relished in the warm touch, some of the pain in his shoulders starting to dissipate.

“Okay, I’m gonna go in a bit harder to get some of your muscle and joint pains away. Ready?” A silent nod allowed Baji to apply a bit more pressure.

The deathly, intensely quiet room was suddenly filled with gentle giggling from the boy on the couch, causing most of the others to smile.

“Ah. So you’re ticklish here too,” the long-haired male quipped as he continued to massage.

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhuhup.”

“Tell me when you’re ready for me to move down to your back.”

Chifuyu shook his head. Despite the unbearable ticklishness, the massage truly was helping his shoulders. “Nohohohot yehehehet.”

Baji couldn’t help but smile at his dear friend, thankful that he was at least still able to smile. Chifuyu’s sweet giggles continued to cut through the tension-filled air.

“Ohohohokahahahay. Yohohohou cahahan mohohohove.”

The brunette hummed in response, putting a bit more medicine on his hands. “Down to your upper back in three, two, one…” As his hands traveled downwards toward Chifuyu’s ribs and mid back, the boy writhed a bit as hit laughter increased in volume.

“Am I the only one who thinks that this is kinda adorable?” Takemichi dared to whisper to his friends, receiving shaking heads of agreement in return.

“Bahahahajihihi.”

“Mmm?”

“Dohohohont stohohohop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Ohohok-hyehehehahaha- Ohohokahahay.”

The medicine was long since properly rubbed in, and both boys knew it, but Baji would not stop until Chifuyu asked him. His hands massaged around his upper and middle back, the boy’s laughter growing every time they snaked near his ribs.

“Okahahahay. Ihihi feheheel behehetter thehehere.”

Baji put more medicine on and paused, suddenly remembering a moment that they had shared in the past. “So… I have to put this on your lower back… do you want to go somewhere more private for this?”

“I’ve lost my dignity anyways…” he sighed, pondering,” who cares if they see?”

Baji snorted. “Okay, going to your lower back in three, two… one…”

As soon as Baji’s hands began to gently rub, Chifuyu squeezed his eyes shut and his face returned to hiding in the couch.

“I know, I know. I’ll make this quick.”

“Juhuhust dohohoho ihihit.”

The brunette sighed as he put a bit more pressure. The injured boy’s head shot up so he could slap his hands over his mouth. “PFFAHAHA. BahAHAHAjihihi!”

“I know, I know, I know.”

“Ihihihit tihihihicklehehehes. SohOHOHO bahaAHAHAD.”

“You said you didn’t mind, and now look at you now.” Baji’s hands did not move from their massage, working a bit slower than usual to rub in the medicine. “It’ll only get worse from here, giggles.”

“stahAHAHAP teheheasihihing mehEHEHE!”

Baji chuckled a bit as he tactfully rubbed in the medicine, fighting the urge to let his fingers sneak around to tickle more. If Chifuyu didn’t give him the okay, he wouldn’t dare to touch him anywhere. So, he worked with what he could and how he could.

“Bahahahjihihi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thahahahank Yohohou.”

“Any time, Chi’.”

“IhihiIHIHIS ihihit ahaHAHAHAlmohohost doHOHohone?”

Ah, Chifuyu had had enough. Baji smiled a bit, retracting his hands. “Yep, all finished. How do you feel?”

The blonde braced himself on his hands, trying to lift himself up. His arms shook with effort, face planting back onto the couch not long after.

“Careful, Chifuyu,” the long-haired male ordered, “do you need help?”

He sighed, “yeah.”

With the greatest of care, Baji lifted a grimacing Chifuyu into an upward position once more. He quickly moved to sit behind him, letting the boy rest against his chest and between his legs.

“Anything you need, and you ask us, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing is inconvenient for us. We don’t care if we have to get up every five seconds; you. come. first.”

“Anything for our white knight,” Draken quipped.

“Anything…?”

“Anything…” Mikey replied, reaching forward to take his hand and run his thumb along the base of the boy’s own.

“Does that mean we can watch Ponyo?” The blonde asked with hopeful eyes.

The rest of the boys chuckled.

“We can watch Ponyo until we’re blue in the face. Do you want some more of your granola bar?” Mitsuya cooed as he stood to his feet.

“Mmm mmmnn. Ponyo first and then-“ a yawn ripped from his throat as he leaned back against Baji. “‘Nola bar… later…”

So, there they all sat, Chifuyu “watching” Ponyo with a content smile. (In reality, he would last about fifteen minutes into the film before falling asleep) Baji watching “Ponyo.” (In reality, he was so worried about Chifuyu that he could last about a minute before checking on the boy again.) The others copying Baji’s actions.

As soon as the blonde had fallen asleep, the collective sigh of relief from the group was audible. They continued to actually watch the film, sneaking reassuring glances on the sleeping first-division vice captain.

Hours passed, and Takemichi decided to just have the boys spend the night at his place. The sleeping blonde re-adjusted his position to rest atop of Baji’s chest, the long-haired male’s arms caging down to hold him as if he was guarding him from all of the world’s evils.

Chifuyu thankfully slept through the night.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

#t content #augtickletober2023 #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers chifuyu #Tokyo revengers baji #baji keisuke #Keisuke baji #chifuyu matsuno #matsuno chifuyu #lee!chifuyu #ler!baji #ticklish!chifuyu

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