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blueraineshadows · 10 months

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Weasley Wednesday 🦁

This week's Discord theme: Drunk 🥴

Garreth Weasley x F!MC 🔥🔞 NSFW

After a long week of work, MC felt the need for some fun, but most of her mates seemed to be busy, and she had been broken up from her last boyfriend for a few weeks now.

The only friend who was free this evening was Garreth Weasley, and she felt a blush colour her cheeks at the thought of making plans for just him and her. Would that be like a date?

Deciding to be brave and go for it, she agreed to meet with him, and was now sitting across a table from him in the local pub near her house. She was twirling her drink on the table top, her gaze drawn to his lovely green eyes, his charming smile. As the drinks were going down, her awareness of him was creeping up, and soon the friendly banter was slipping into more flirtatious territory.

She had even reached out to touch his hand a few times as they had laughed about something. He had so many amusing tales to tell.

"How does someone manage to leave the house in an odd pair of shoes, exactly?" MC giggled.

Garreth shrugged and gave her a lop sided grin. "When you're me, it's easy," he said.

He picked up his beer and went to take a drink and then frowned, gazing into the bottom of his glass. "Well, damn, it's all gone," he said with a sigh. "Fancy another?"

MC chewed her lower lip. "Hmm, well, I'm running out of beer money, and it's not fair to make you pay for more," she said. "I've got some wine at home. Fancy coming back to share a bottle? We can continue our discussion on how spectacularly good we are at failing things."

He stared at her a moment before smiling. "I would love to," he said. He swung out an arm, a silly grin on his face. "Lead the way, m'lady."

MC giggled as she stood, pushing her chair out, and then staggering a little as she took a step. Garreth had stood too and grabbed her arm. "Woah, easy there," he chuckled. "Just how many have you had?"

She smiled and leaned in to him as he held her arm. "Not nearly enough," she said. "Come on, the wine awaits us!"

They stumbled and giggled all the way back to her house. She dropped her keys twice, which was no where near as funny as they made it out to be. But MC was enjoying herself, finding herself thinking that she should spend more time with Garreth. He was lovely.

In her kitchen, she found two glasses and poured out some wine. She handed Garreth a glass. "There you go, handsome," she said. "Get that down you."

He blushed a little as he took the glass, and she studied his face a little more closely, the alcohol in her bloodstream making her forget that she was shy. It wasn't a lie, what she had said. He was very handsome, and she frowned a little.

"Garreth, why the fuck are you still single? You're beautiful!"

He flushed crimson and rubbed his jaw. "Oh, well, you know, its just the way things work out sometimes," he said. "The last girl I was seeing just wasn't right for me."

MC nodded and sighed. "I know the feeling," she said. She took a long sip of wine. "My last boyfriend was an arsehole. I think I am better off without him. And the sex was terrible, another thing I seem to fail at."

"I'm sure you are not a failure," he insisted.

She eyed Garreth. This was usually the sort of conversation she would have with her girlfriends, not with another man. But, he had been so sweet and funny. She felt like she could trust him, and maybe a man's point of view would help.

"I think there might be something wrong with me," she confided. Her cheeks coloured a little and she took a large gulp of wine.

Concern marred his brow. "Why? What's up?"

She leant in to whisper, even though they were completely alone, but this was sensitive. This was utterly private. "I've never...you know...climaxed," MC admitted. "I think I am broken."

Garreth gulped and stared at her, eyes wide. "You...erm...wow. You haven't?" He pushed his hand through his hair, his eyes daring to roam over her body. He blushed again. "Really? Never? Do you mean at all? Or just with a guy?"

She giggled, covering her face with one hand. "Oh, Merlin, I can't believe we're having this conversation. Maybe I have drunk too much," she gasped. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "I er...can do it to myself, but no, a man has never made me do it."

"Wow, I'd say you've been picking the wrong men, MC," he said. "That's a poor show, leaving you unsatisfied."

He met her gaze, and they both quickly looked away from each other, laughing awkwardly. "Oh, fuck, this is so embarrassing!" She squeaked. She waved her hand about. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"No, no, it's alright," he said, awkwardly. He drank some of his wine, his eyes on her over the top of his glass. She cursed the alcohol for making her lips loose, he must be thinking she was all sorts of crazy.

"Would you like to?"

She stared at him. "What?"

He bit his lower lip. "Would you like a man to make you come?"

She opened her mouth, and paused, her breath freezing. Was it the alcohol or the question that was making her body tingle so hotly?

"I...well, yes," she said. She hesitated, her eyes going from her glass of wine to him and back again, heart thudding. "Do you mean..."

He nodded. "I could...if you want..." He blushed. "It's okay to say no. I just thought I would offer, you know, be a good mate and all that."

She looked at him, and he gave her an impish smile. She pressed her lips together, her smile fighting its way forward. A giggle burst from her lips, and then he was chuckling, too.

"Sorry," he said. He rubbed his jaw with his hand again. "Ignore me, it must be the beer talking, of course you wouldn't want me to do that."

Would she? Her body thrummed at the thought. Her eyes took him in again, his handsome face, his long fingers, his kissable lips. They were both adults, both unattached. She put her glass down.

"Okay," she said. She was a little breathless. "I'm game, if you are."

They stared at each other a moment and he nodded, blowing air out through his lips. "Okay, erm...how would you like to...you know..."

"Oh!" MC felt herself grow hot. She put a hand to her chest where her heart was pounding. "Let's erm...well, shall we...shall we kiss first?"

"Absolutely!" He moved closer towards her, and she stared at his mouth, her breaths coming a little faster. Wow, this was actually happening! He bent his head and pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm, lingering a little before lifting his mouth away.

MC licked her lips, her eyes shyly meeting his. Wow, his eyes were so pretty up close. "Mmm, that was nice."

He smiled and kissed her again, firmer this time, his hands brushing against her waist. The soft, wet sounds of their kissing filled her kitchen, and she found herself pressed up against the cupboards.

His hair was silky soft as it threaded through her fingers, and then he parted her lips with his tongue, sliding it gently into her mouth. He was gentle but determined, kissing her deeply, and she moaned softly. Desire was pooling in her belly and she arched against him, realising that kissing Garreth Weasley was actually rather lovely.

He moved his mouth along her jaw, his lips soft and teasing as he trailed kisses to her neck. MC tilted her head back to allow him more access, his kisses sending tingles of fire across her flesh. She gasped at the gentle scrape of teeth, her grip tightening in his hair. His breath was hot against her ear and she shivered. "That feels so good," she whispered.

"And that is exactly what we want, isn't it?" He whispered. The tickle of it against her ear made her thighs clench, heat gathering rather quickly, and she mumbled in agreement.

"I'm going to touch you," he murmured. His tongue flicked her earlobe, and he kissed back down her neck. His hand gently tugged her blouse free of her waistband, and gentle fingertips slid across her stomach.

MC was no virgin, but his touch felt like nothing else she had ever experienced before. He was considerate, teasing, gentle. He eased a hand over her hip, trailing fingers up her thigh over her trousers and then gently swiped his hand between her thighs.

The spreading tingles swept outwards from her core, and she bit her lower lip in anticipation as he popped the button on her trousers. She gripped him, her mouth seeking his for a desperate kiss. His hand slid inside her trousers, and she gasped into his mouth, parting her thighs a little as the tips of his fingers slid through her folds.

His touch was gentle, teasing, sliding slowly against her, the tip of a finger dipping and swirling to spread out the slick of her arousal. She quivered under the touch, small sounds leaving her mouth.

"Good?" He asked.

"Mmmhmm," she affirmed, nodding. She glanced down, watching his hand, breathing fast. "Don't stop."

A finger probed deeper, pumping in and out, and her hips flexed. As he swirled the finger upwards to circle over her clit, MC groaned, delicious flicks of pleasure throbbing outwards. Garreth had his mouth on her ear again, his teeth dragging gently around the shell. "I'm thinking you like it," he whispered. He rubbed a little faster. "You're so wet, so soft."

MC moaned, her fingers gripping hold of him. "More," she pleaded. "Garreth..."

He withdrew his hand and she whimpered, but he was pushing her trousers down her legs, she helped him tug them free and they were abandoned on her kitchen floor. She gave a surprised cry as he lifted her up onto the kitchen side, claiming her mouth in another deep kiss as parted her thighs, moving to stand between her legs.

This was new! She had never done anything like this in a kitchen before, and she surrendered herself to him, one hand around the back of his neck, the other planted on the worktop behind her.

Garreth's fingers slid over her heat again, and her legs instinctively widened a bit more. He hit the spot immediately, and she moaned even louder as he used more fingers to pleasure her, sliding two inside and using his thumb to stimulate.

Her mouth was open, her eyes met his and her cheeks flushed as the pressure began to build. His gaze was intense as he stared at her. It was erotic, it was intimate, and she felt shyness begin to creep in. She dipped her gaze, tensing up a little.

"Look at me," he said. She shyly lifted her eyes to his as his fingers made erotic sounds between her legs. The muscles in her thighs were beginning to tremble. He kissed her slowly, his tongue sliding playfully along her lips, his teeth making a teasing tug. "Relax," he whispered. "Trust me."

His fingers slowed a little, swirling and rubbing, teasing her slowly towards an edge. "Do you trust me?"

As she stared into those gorgeous green eyes, his fingers sending fire through her core, she nodded. "Yes," she breathed. "I trust you."

His hands gripped her hips, dragging them to the edge of the counter, and she stared, wide eyed as he bent to bury his face between her legs. The devastating swirl of his tongue swept upwards before circling smoothly over her clit, and her eyes rolled back, a low moan escaping her.

Both of her hands scrambled for purchase as he licked, she knocked over containers, her glass of wine toppled over, rolling off the edge of the counter to smash on the floor, but they both ignored it.

She shuddered as her abdomen gave a teasing clench, her legs were shaking, one of them slung over his shoulder as he fucked her with his mouth. He groaned against her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, the intensity of every tongue stroke increasing. Incoherent sounds spilled from her mouth as the heat gathered and twisted.

"Garreth," she moaned. "Oh...fuck... "

"Come for me," he murmured. His breath fanning out against her heat. "Come on, MC. You're so close, I can tell."

He slid two fingers inside, curling them slightly, his tongue and lips continuing to tease. The pressure increased tenfold, her back arched and her hips ground against him. A shocked cry left her mouth as her body clenched, a deep pulse reverberating through her core.

Garreth didn't stop, but he slowed, coaxing her through each tremble and clench, until she sagged, panting. She was dazed, happy. This was so much better than doing it for herself.

"Fuck," she whispered. "You did it..."

Garreth straightened, wiping his mouth, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. "See? You are definitely not broken. You are, in fact, perfect."

"You were amazing," she sighed, her smile wide and dazed. "Thank you!"

"Happy to be of service, m'lady," he said. He even gave her a little bow.

She giggled, her breathing still catching up, her body flushed with pleasure. She sat up and reached for him, grabbing his shirt to pull him close. "I owe you one," she said. She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. She held him there, and looked up into those eyes that were fast becoming her favourite thing. "Shall we move this into the bedroom?"

His eyebrows lifted with interest. "Are you suggesting it's my turn? Or are you wanting me to rock your world again?"

She smiled. "How about both?"

"I'm game, if you are," he smiled.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #mc x garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #blueraineshadows #garreth weasley's groupies

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nicodemuslily · 1 year

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Family

Journalist: Can you introduce us to your family?

Hotch: Yes. Here is Derek, the elder. Our conversations don’t run under less than 100 db and he opens doors kicking them with his foot.

Hotch: Here is the second one, Penelope, who collects glittery pens. As you see her right now, she has just woke up.

Hotch: Emily, the third one. She has a subscription to the local precinct. It’s her fifth arrest in three days this week.

Hotch: Spencer, the little one. He talks a lot, but we don’t always understand what he is trying to say. I think there was an exchange at the maternity ward.

Hotch: And here is Jennifer, my lovely sweet child. She obeys, tidies up her bedroom and does the dishes when asked. She’s perfect. And then, she has a black belt in MMA, so beware of what you say.

Journalist: And him?

Hotch: Well, him, he’s only there to steel our coffee.

Hotch: Get out, sir! That’s enough now!

___

Something a little bit different this time, but I didn’t want to publish it during the week (it’s not really a silly comics, but not a sketchdump neither). Well, whatever, I’ve got this idea into my mind for quite some times now and needed to do something about it.

I don’t really know the ages of the character into the show to be honest (Rossi and Hotch are clearly the eldest, and Reid the younger, but no idea about the in-between). Weirdly, I always thought that Emily was younger than Derek, but it’s the opposite actually. So, yes, this timeline above is completely messy, but who cares? They’re no real family after all. :D

Well, I’ll hide the next part because it will have nothing to do with the drawing above. I need to talk about my feelings about the S12E06 (aka the last Hotch episode, but not really because he disappeared 4 episodes before). No one cares but my brain is chewing me alive with the strong emotions I felt watching it. If you think that this character was just an unsufferable and emotionless dork, you’ve got the right to go away to do something more interesting. :)

Well, I could have talk about that on the CM discord server I’m currently in, but they are all MGG fanpeople, so they don’t give a damn about the disappearance of the character (they even think that is a great episode because Emily became the BAU director).

Actually, I totally can get why the writers gave this job to her. She was already a team leader in Interpol, she surely have the shoulders to lead another team with the FBI (especially a team she already knew). I’m perfectly okay with that.

What I’m not okay with is the way it was treated.

I’m mean, all this episode is just nonsense (I’m not talking about the case, just what happened in the team). When Rossi told them that Hotch gave his resignation because Mr. Scratch tried to kill Jack, their reaction was: “Okay, who’s going to be the boss next?”.

Dudes! Someone is telling you that the guy who was your boss for 11 years is freaking out because a serial killer is after his only family left, and you don’t give a damn sh*t. When Foyet was after Haley and Jack, you jumped on the bandwagon to find him at any cost. The same happened now, but with another sociopath turning after a kid... and you just shrug your shoulders???

I mean, even if you’re fed up with the old man, isn’t supposed to be your job to search for serial killers? I know that there was another case around, with kids involved, but they really reacted like it was nothing. And they spent all the episode only talking about Emily and her future role as a leader. They didn’t speak at all about was happening to Hotch and Jack (like they were on holidays or something). It’s just: Emily, Emily and Emily.

The only character who talked “about him” was Garcia (because Rossi asked her). And, actually, she mostly speaked about her feelings and what she could say as last words to all the others, than anything else.

The worst part must be the last scene. Rossi speech is so awkward and the reaction of the others are the same: they litteraly celebrated the fact that a guy they knew for a decade (what I supposed to be their friend) was going to live the shittiest life ever, turning his back all of sudden to his relatives, his friends, his job (maybe his country) for an indetermined amount of time, because a sociopath (they were supposed to catch, you know) was hunting him and his son. Their “friend” has lost everything in a blink, and they drunk Champagne.

That’s nonsense.

I mean, I know why the character left (and I won’t talk about this here, even if I think that he was treated like garbage too), but what I don’t get is why did they wrote something like that. Why they just didn’t kill him?

We all knew that the character wasn’t meant to come back anyway (not like Emily with Doyle, you see), so why they just didn’t put him down definitely, like they did with Gideon. There was no need to kill Jack, just Hotch. The kid would have lived with his aunt Jessica (not a big change for him, if I may), we would have had a terrible burial ceremony (where there’s no need to see the actor) and that’s it. It would have killed me as hell, but it would have make more sense that... this.

Well, I’m sad and angry at the same time, because I love this character so much, but at least, it’s said now. I don’t know if it will help me to watch the next seasons, but I had to do it. Sorry for the rant. It’s just my non-objective opinion about this old frowning guy; feel free to think otherwise. :)

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prodigal-howlter · 6 months

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Title: Candy Boy Ship: Dani/Gil/Malcolm Rating: M Contains: long-term Pavlovian training, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/Sub undertones, Fluff, No Smut, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright has a candy addiction Initial prompt: Twizzler chat in Pson Discord chat Words: 3380 Summary: It had been a secret. Gil insisted it was in their best interests. Only he, Malcolm, Dani, JT, and HR knew. Anyone else had been an accident. Their relationship was custom-designed just for them. (But when you're dating someone as chaotic as Malcolm Bright, you had to roll with the punches.) About four months in, they discovered how to hack Malcolm Bright's brain.

Read it below or on ao3

Well... hello Prodigal Son fandom!

This fic was encouraged from the prompt of Gil and Dani giving him Twizzler Nibs as rewards for being smart. Shout out to the Prodigal Son Trash Discord for encouraging this and for welcoming me with open arms and so much kindness and for hyping up all my silly little headcannons! I think I'm really going to enjoy my stay here.

Also, this is Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own!

It had been an accident, really.

Malcolm had gone to see his father and the two were left pottering around the loft waiting for his return. And when he finally arrived, they were met with a shattered version of their partner. Sunshine tweets distressedly, hopping in her cage.

It looked as if he had been crying, and they rushed to greet him in the doorway. "Woah, woah woah!" Gil shouts, rushing over to allow Malcolm to collapse into his arms. The man's hand grips his cable-knit sweater and his breaths come out raggedy as the duo looks at him with fear in their eyes.

what had happened at Claremont?

"Bright? Bright, honey, what happened? Can you tell us what happened?" Dani tries, gently touching his trembling hand. "Did everything go okay?" She knew it was a ridiculous question, but even having him admonish her would be more than what he was giving them.

"Dani, will you grab some licorice and sparkling water from the kitchen? I'm going to try grounding him out." Gil holds the boy tightly, murmuring in his ear. "You're okay, we've got you... You're safe here. We won't let anything happen to you. You're safe." He presses gentle kisses against Malcolm's jaw, waiting for Dani to return.

When she does, Gil releases Malcolm to sit back. "Alright, this is how we are going to do this. I need you to look at me." his head lolls to the side, gaze far off and dissociated. "Bright!" he barks, snapping his fingers. The tone slips into the same one he uses during their darker scenes and by some unknown miracle, that's what grabs Malcolm's attention.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly, "Wh--?"

"Good!" Gil praises, "Welcome back." He offers the younger man a licorice rope, and opens the water for him, "You were gone completely."

"What were you seeing?" Dani asks, hand resting on his ankle as he devours the candy, "It's okay if you can't say right now, just please let us know what we're workin' with."

He chews the last of the rope and sips the water before speaking, "Uh... It's just... My-- Um... Doctor Whitly told me some distressing new facts about my past nothing major."

Dani nods, handing him another rope, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Promise not to scream?"

"Of course not, Malcolm. We've got you. What's wrong?" Gil prods.

"He... he gave me more information about that night with Walker and Dr. Whitly at the cabin... And I... I just..." He drops his head back, eyes falling shut. "I can't go back there, guys."

"And you don't have to. You did a good job, Bright." Dani praises, giving him a third piece of licorice.

As the third piece enters his mouth, Gil notices the change. Malcolm's pupils are dilating and his gaze flickers between the two of them, waiting for their prompts. His body goes boneless and every part of him wonders how he's gone this long without being told what to do.

"It's late." Dani suggests, "Why don't we get you tucked into bed?" Malcolm nods, rising on shaky legs as she leads him towards the bed. He sits on the bed, watching as Dani removes his shoes.

"Arms, kid." Gil reaches over, cuffing him in, and laying next to him. "You're safe. Would you like us to lie down here with you for a bit?" He nods, raising his arms to make room for his partners on either side of the bed.

And that's where it all started.

-----

The next time they try the candy method, it's a few weeks later.

The team is working on a case that has them all stumped. It's one of those brain twisters where the killer covered all her tracks.

"Brittany Hyde is a con artist." Malcolm begins, pointing at the victim's body on the board, "Has her tiny little world on a controlled string and knows what each person thought of her. Experienced. She knows that she isn't good enough to get away with murder, but she is good enough to hide how she works. The binder JT found at the scene was like a bible of her lies. She used it to take notes of what each person had been told so no one got crossed, and as we saw from the sharp cut lines in the paper, something had crossed. She cut it out, like our first vic. But that can't be all it's for..." Malcolm stares at the team, a crazed look in his eye. Gil knows he's on to something.

"What do you see?" Gil asks, causing Dani and JT to lean in.

"She isn't a perfectionist, she is obsessive! Every single part of the murder was planned. Fixed. She only took what she needed to and used it against the victim. Every part of this was calculated based on how she lied. That's why she took the parts she did! We know her knifework was precise, calculated... Wait, What did you guys say was on the counter at her apartment?"

"Grooves? I thought we deemed them irrelevant." JT shrugs, "What do they have to do with the suspect?"

"If you look closer," he places a photo of the counter on the table, "the digs were always in threes. She seems to cut into the butcherblock once, inches over and then cuts deeper, and repeats the process a third time creating this texture that looks like fish gills. The same marks were on the victim and those digs were also evenly spaced, and she used the same knife. This knife was also the only one with a different handle. Dani! If you noticed at our meeting with her the other day, she also only cut her fruits and foods with the same knife. She favors the same utensil... she--"

"She showed you the weapon." Gil finishes for him, hand falling onto the table with a thud, "Well I'll be damned. Dani, you and Bright stay there, and JT and I will go check Hyde's house for the knife." He rattles his keys, nodding at his partners. "We'll be back shortly. Good find, Bright." He runs his hand over Malcolm's after JT has left. He nods at Dani and walks out.

"What was that?" Malcolm asks, finger raised in her direction.

"What was what?" She replies, arms crossed over her chest.

"That exchange. You two are planning something."

"If you give me a second, I'll give it to you." She smiles, digging a sweet out of her pocket. He tilts his head and furrows his brow. She opens her palm, the tiny piece of candy sitting in the center.

"What's that?" He points apprehensively.

"Just take it. It's a Twizzler."

He follows her direction and takes it, popping it in his mouth. He bounces on his heels, glancing into the bullpen. When he confirms no one is looking, he pecks her lips quickly.

"Thank you. Not that I understand why you have candy in your pocket." He shrugs, "Doesn't matter, I needed it. Can I... have more?"

"No. I have to get back to work." She walks past him and returns to her desk to work on a different case. He sighs and slumps back in his chair, waiting for Gil and JT to return with the next piece of the puzzle.

-----

The next time he receives one of the pieces is a few days later. At a new crime scene.

"Yknow... I think we should look at the tiles in the bathroom. I'm sure one of them will be loose. There might be a drive behind it. He seems to have hidden his stuff in plain sight. I think the rest of the evidence will be in a lockbox in the bathroom."

"Lockbox?"

"Sure." He grins. "The killer has a key. Look at the bracelet on the vic, she has a lock. The previous one did too." Malcolm bounces on his heels, hands behind his back, a grin fighting at his lips "I think the killer was an owner."

"Calm down, pet" Gil murmurs behind him, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. Malcolm immediately freezes, and instead elects to fidget with his bracelet behind his back. "Good." He drops a Twizzler Nib in his hand, continuing his investigation like nothing happened.

Malcolm's eyes widen when he feels it land, popping the treat in his mouth as Edrisa greets him.

"Bright!" She hops up, boots clacking on the wood floor, "Hi! Did you see--"

"The key in her torso? Yeah! I can't believe how clean the linework is!" He smiles at the ME, chewing the Twizzler in his mouth.

"Wait, what do you mean key?!" Dani interjects, "You said there is a key?"

"Yes! Right..." He reaches his hand down, but stops himself, reaching into his pocket for a glove. "Here." He moves the woman's blouse, revealing a key etched into the side of her breast. "Unfortunately, the murderer didn't leave the actual object but it's clear he traced it. Look at the linework around the cut, it's got a marker stain. They planned their cuts." Malcolm rises, removing his gloves. As soon as he drops them in the bin, Dani drops another piece of candy in his hand.

"Good job."

"Thanks" He blushes, eating the sweet. She smiles subtly and follows him out of the room.

-----

The team is standing over a cadaver the next time he receives a candy.

He'd just revealed to the team how the victim was held, and how there would be another key carving on the body. He'd pointed out the bruising on her thighs and insisted to Gil it would be on her rib. Edrisa grins, and moves the sheet, revealing a perfect keyhole on her left hip.

"You see, it being on her left side is symbolic. It represents closeness, importance. It's clear these women are important to the killer. It matches the other woman from before for the most part, but instead, the grooves on the key are different. Like it's a different-- OH!" He staggers back and then forward again, "It's their ownership keys! Edrisa! Did the third victim have a key?"

"Yes, but hers was smooth with one divot instead of... she wasn't kept." Edrisa's eyes widen alongside Malcolms.

"What are you two talking about?" JT cuts in.

"This woman was kept. See the details on the blade of the key. The cuts and bitting are custom, made specifically for the lock they match. The third vic had a handcuff key. She was just cuffed, not locked. That one was impersonal. This one was personal. The murderer loved the first two women." He nodded, "Yeah, that covers it." Malcolm turns, heading towards the door, followed closely by the rest of the team.

"Good job in there." Gil smiles, passing him two Twizzler nibs.

"Thank you." He blushes, tossing them up and catching them in his mouth.

"You are an absolute dork." Dani laughs and shakes her head at his wink.

JT's brow furrows, "You guys are weird as hell."

-----

Dani and Gil notice their hard work paying off a few months later.

Malcolm was standing before Edrisa, Dani, JT and Gil, rattling on about how performative mermaids have cloth tails vs silicone.

Their current vic was part of New York's largest team of mermaid performers. She'd been drowned, but they couldn't figure out how. That is until Malcolm revealed the weighted beads in the fins of her tail.

When he cuts the seam, the plastic beads spill out onto the table.

"Good Job, Bright." A grin breaks out on his face as his gaze switches between his partners. "Oh, you're right! Sorry..." Gil chuckles, "I almost forgot." Gil digs in his pocket, rattling through the plastic, but frowns when he realizes the bag is empty. "Um... I'm out."

Malcolm's gaze flicks to Dani like an eager puppy. She smirks, sliding her hand into her jacket pocket.

"What is happening?" JT asks, watching the exchange play out in front of him.

"Ah! Here you go!" She smiles and pulls one of the licorice bites out of the bag.

Malcolm hops on the balls of his feet, reaching over the table to take the treat before heading out to the bullpen to his desk. The extra spring in his step doesn't go unnoticed by the three police personnel in the room.

JT raises his eyebrow, "You guys Pavloved your boyfriend?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Gil smirks, walking out of the room.

The man at the table glances at Dani, hoping for an answer. She just shrugs and smiles, following Gil out.

"They're so fucking weird I swear to God." JT murmurs, walking out and shutting off the light.

-----

Edrisa is the next one to catch them.

She sees Dani drop the candy into Malcolm's hand as she walks behind him, talking to Gil about the suspect their officers had just taken into custody.

"What was that?" Edrisa asks, staring at Gil confusedly.

"What was what?"

"Nothing, never mind." She laughs to herself, going back to the cadaver on the table.

"What was Edrisa asking?" Dani questions, watching Malcolm head back into the bullpen.

Gil shrugs, "Oh, she just wanted to know what we gave Bright."

"Did you tell her?"

"No."

Dani breathes a sigh of relief, pushing her hand into her pocket, "Good, I don't want his profiling brain to catch on."

"He won't! We've boiled the frog slow enough that he expects it now."

-----

Edrisa catches what it is the next time they do it at a crime scene. She didn't hear what he said to deserve it, but she saw Gil hand a licorice bite to the profiler.

"Oh! You activated Malcolm's hippocampus and amygdala! And then giving him a candy makes him release Dopamine and Serotonin! That's smart. Honestly, I think it's probably one of the more genius responses the brain can do, but if it were me I would probably have elected to use Pavlov's technique. Which, I know is what you think you have done, but instead you've used Skinner's technique. Instead of it being a reply of a bell to make him salivate, he's like Skinner's rat who uses a pedal to release food!" Dani crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, "Oh, right... the body..."

Dani stares at Edrisa, "Did you just call Bright a rat?"

Malcolm turns to Gil, "Should I--"

"Please. Go ahead." He touches a hand to Malcolm's back gently, subtly. "Tell us what you see"

"Gladly." Malcolm begins, "As you can see, the vic was strangled, but the murderer staged it to look as though he was strangled in the sheets." He crouches down next to the body, brow furrowing as he inspects the injuries. No..." He tilts his head, inspecting the discolored splotching on his body, "He wasn't strangled at all. The marks on his neck were made post-mortem... or by the vic himself?" He places his hands on his own throat, eyes widening. "That's exactly what happened. This was a suicide made to look like a murder."

JT looks up from his notepad, "Well this just got interesting."

"Bright, what do you mean it's a suicide?" Dani asks, leaning down to see if she can spot the reasoning herself.

"Look here, at his neck. The choking marks are upside-down. If someone else strangled him, the index finger would be on the top, but instead, the pinky is. The only way he could have sustained these marks is by doing them to himself. But why? Who was our victim trying to frame and why couldn't he get out of it?"

"Bright! Check this out!" Dani calls from the other room.

The profiler rushes into the home office to find a ceiling covered in CDs with black streaks seemingly randomly placed on them.

"Well, what's this now?" Gil sighs, tilting his head this way and that.

"It looks like our killer left us a message, but where?"

"There," Malcolm replies, stepping back into the hallway.

"Wha-- holy shit." Gil gasps, catching sight of the message written in the negative space.

"Hell of a find, Bright." JT smiles. Malcolm bounces lightly on his heels, fighting a smile. Gil smirks and passes him a candy, exiting the room.

"Let's head back to the precinct and see where we're at with evidence."

In the Le Mans, Gil squeezes the back of Malcolm's neck. "You did good in there." From the backseat, Dani smiles and kisses the older man's wrist where it rests on Malcolm's shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Mal." She murmurs, "Just a little longer and then we can go home okay?"

It's not often that they talk to him gently, but his reaction is always the same. As soon as the soft tone of Dani's voice fills the space between the throuple, Malcolm's eyes widen. His partners watch as a soft shiver creeps along his neck and a blush tints his cheeks.

"You guys ready to go?" Dani asks.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, we can go." Gil nods and speeds down the road to the precinct, following JT's car and the rest of the team down the busy New York streets.

-----

By the time Malcolm realized what Gil and Dani had done, it was too late.

He'd had his head in Dani's lap, legs hanging off the edge of the couch. Gil had elected to curl in the lounge chair next to the couch, nose tucked in a book. A comfortable silence fills the empty air. Dani's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling ever so slightly.

"So... did you guys actually Pavlov me like Edrisa said?"

At this, Gil closes his book. He glances up at Dani, panic splitting his gaze. Malcolm's eyes flicker open as he glances up at Dani.

"Well..." Gil starts, "I wouldn't say that..."

"You wouldn't?" Dani asks.

"You're both lying," Malcolm interjects, "Don't do that, please. Just... tell me the truth. I'm not mad. I just... I want the truth. Please." At this, he sits up, setting his shoulders. His gaze flickers between the two sitting on opposite sides of him.

He breathes a deep sigh, "Listen, Malcolm, we... we did actually use your licorice bites as a way to help you."

"Why? When did this start?" Malcolm asks, brow furrowing.

"About five months ago." She confesses, "I'm--"

"No need. Don't apologize. You two must have had a motive?"

"We just wanted to help you," Gil confesses, trailing off.

"And the answer to that was using my favorite food against me?"

"Not against you..." the older man sighs, fingers scratching at his beard, "It was my idea, Mal. I thought it might be better for you to get something like a gold star."

"Well, it worked. I mean, it's definitely better than any of the prizes my father got me as a kid..." Malcolm smirks, "I mean, Twizzlers is definitely better than years of irreversible trauma and night terrors."

Dani chuckles behind him, placing her hand on his knee, "Good lord, Bright."

"So you aren't mad?" Gil asks, scooting closer to sit on the arm of the couch.

"No, you guys meant well. I know you weren't intending to harm me. I know you guys just wanted to do it out of love." He kisses Dani softly, leaning back against Gil's leg.

"We love you, Mal. We just want you to be healthy, happy, and loved." He smiles and presses a kiss to the younger man's forehead, fingers brushing his hair.

As Malcolm leans up to kiss the older man, their phones ring on the coffee table.

"Well damn..." Dani murmurs, "I guess duty calls."

"It would seem so." Malcolm breathes, sitting upright, handing Gil his phone.

"Arroyo." Gil starts, listening to JT explain the scene. He smiles at his partners, heart full of love. Dani hands Malcolm a full-length Twizzler, taking a bite off another one before handing it to Gil.

They'll be okay.

Thank you so much for reading!! Likes and reblogs are super appreciated!!

If you would like to send me a prompt, come find me at @prodigal-howlter!

#prodigal son #dani powell #malcolm bright #gil arroyogilgi #gil arroyo/dani powell/malcolm bright

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threadsun · 11 months

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Dude, I freaking SQUEAKED when I read that breeding line lol! Slowly becoming a dog toy for this ghost clown apparently, but hopefully he’ll chew on me for a while 😂 But yeah, I can see him acting more cocky when he was a teen to put out a persona that he’s a lot stronger than he actually felt (People who are insecure about their own strength or wish that they had someone who would’ve protected them from harm or want to protect others going through similar situations wind up trying to become buff and man is he BUFF), but most of it was fake to survive. When he separates himself from his old life to start fresh, he probably doesn’t want to hide who he actually is anymore, but still stays at least guarded because he fears rejection and getting hurt in multiple areas. I think his time playing the role of Sunny Day Jack was the only time he was the closest to being himself (kind, caring, sweet, charismatic, funny, maybe even a little flirty and calm) but look where that got him. Shot twice in the head by who knows, but it’s enough to solidify that being himself is the worst thing he could possibly do. Honestly, I think the positive traits of Jack ARE Joesph, he just doesn’t see it himself (of course it more amped up and slapped with a child friendly filter, but it’s still there). I can’t wait to see how you deep dive into this more in that Jack and Rory fic! GOD I love psychology lol. Speaking of, it’s understandable why Jack hasn’t been using what he’s learned from that psychologist because it wasn’t targeted towards helping Joesph and his trauma, it was based off the psychology of CHILDREN. Sure, he uses some of what he learned on his sunshine because we all are just giant kids on the inside, but with how vast the field of psychology is, you can’t just mix trauma therapy with child care. It’s like telling a doctor you have a scrap on your knee which they treat, but they don’t realize the main issue is that your leg is broken. It’s not the psychologist’s focus and therefore Joesph didn’t receive the tools or information used to specifically help himself, if that makes sense? I know I probably said it weird, but as someone who went through counseling for years for one thing, but the main issue wasn’t addressed to them so I didn’t receive the tools that would’ve actually HELPED me. That’s only because I wasn’t aware of it and he could’ve been in a similar situation too. Don’t know anything’s wrong if it’s seen as something normal. Do you think Joesph was sub-leaning because it’s what he’s used to or do you think he does enjoy it? I can see a lot of his experiences with sex not entirely being healthy or based off fear (will this blowjob be enough to pay off his rent? Can he order that burger from McDonald’s if he tries harder to please them with his dick? Will they give me love and attention if submit to them completely?) so I’m not entirely what a healthy Joesph would look like sexually. But I didn’t think about how Jack is so heavily a dom because of his experiences as Joesph. It’s such a crazy parallel honestly! Oh! I do want to mention that on the discord, the people who talked about bdsm test before mentioned that those test results are based on both Jack and Jacktor, so there’s some food for thought. Then again, I could be mistaken so don’t take it to heart! Desperate sunshine with desperate Jack leads to some very DESPERATE sexy times with heated kisses and lots of heavy petting I imagine. I think that’s definitely where the primal side truly shines, but that guy must have some earth signs in his birth chart that man’s patience is THROUGH THE ROOF. Me? I’d probably try to rip clothes the moment I’d get the chance or become a babbling mess. But him? Freaking man can STILL form coherent sentences even before he busts a load. He can still lose himself in the moment (his ahegao face and body language is a clear giveaway of what he TRULY wants. Such an expressive guy), but holding himself off long enough to let his sunshine finish first makes me believe that he’s a monk more than a clown!

-🎃

lmao I said that exact line to one of my friends once and she was like "how many clients and partners have you said that to?" Turns out online domming can make for some good lines~

Yes, exactly!! You get it!! He's just been doing whatever he can to survive and get any scrap of love and attention he possibly can, he's not a bad person! In terms of the subbing stuff, I definitely think that when he was doing survival sex work, he was often forced into a dominant role. People see a tall, strong, handsome man like him and just assume he's dominant. So people would pay him to dominate them. Which I feel like is why he'd prefer to sub with someone he loves. He wants to be the one who feels small and not in control. He wants to hand over power to someone else and let himself be used. He likes to submit because it makes him feel good to be useful to someone else! He'll dom, sure, but usually it's because his partner wants it and he wants to please. Submitting feels more deeply, authentically him. And it's a side of himself that he's not given the chance to really explore very often. Getting praised or degraded or manhandled or ordered around, they're all things that help him feel less Big And Scary, that let him be vulnerable.

And like... that vulnerability, both by being submissive and by opening up while he plays the role of Jack. Well, that might very well have been what got him killed. So when he becomes Jack, of course he's gonna fall back on domination. It's something he knows he's good at, it's a place where he feels he has control. He wants the power he lacked as Joseph. Even when he was dominant as Joseph, he never had true power, and that's what Jack craves.

Oh Jack has insane patience and self control. Which, given that his whole thing is moderation, kind makes sense. He knows that the payoff is better if you wait and make sure everything is set up perfectly before you act. So he can wait as long as he needs to get his Sunshine completely wrapped around his finger. He can hold himself together while they fall apart for him, and then use that as leverage to make them want him more. And then once he finally has his Sunshine for certain, that's when he can let go and lose his composure.

#sunshine #asks #🎃 anon

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hornime · 3 years

Text

voyeurant | kenma kozume x f!reader

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

warnings: 18+, timeskip!kenma, kinda dubcon, kenma’s unintentionally pervy, male masturbation, poorly written video game content (i tried my best), mutual pining but u both are oblivious

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: yes, the title is a shitty pun of valorant. no, i will not be changing it. also this tiktok about timeskip kenma made me giggle so pls enjoy.

voyeurant: part one ↓ | part two | part three:

“fuck, i hate this map,” kenma grumbled into his headset.

your voiced chimed in his ears. “is it ascent?” you turned to see his face on your screen, pinched in annoyance. “ha, it is ascent. sucks for you.”

“which one are you on? haven?”

“you know it,” you chuckled. “your favorite.”

“i hate you.” he weighed his options, did he really want to play this game? the layout of the world made it irritatingly hard to strategize, and today’s losing streak was making him more agitated than usual. with a sign, he closed the application. “fuck this. i’m gonna go piss.”

“yeah, yeah, you’re such a big baby. and...” you released your mouse, throwing your hands up in triumph, “we just won. at this point, i’m gonna outrank you.” you were joking, of course. kenma wasn’t just a gamer, he was kodzuken, one of japan’s best pro-gamers, and you were just someone that played as a hobby. but it was always fun to tease.

“hmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure you will.” he turned his head to look directly at his webcam, smirking, “in your dreams.”

“ooh, catboy’s getting feisty!” he flinched at the nickname. “go pee so i can beat you at your best.”

he obliged, pulling his headphones off and looping them on the top of his chair. he casually raised his middle finger at you while smoothing out strands of his hair, prompting a series of profanities to escape your mouth, none of which he could hear. he chuckled playfully as you responded with two middle fingers of your own, before moving out of the camera to get to the bathroom.

you and kenma had met in an... interesting way, to say the least. after going moderately viral from lashing out at him for refusing to heal you in a game of overwatch—while he was streaming—the two of you reconciled over a twitter thread and exchanged gamer tags. since then, you’d struck up an easygoing friendship, characterized by almost nightly discord calls and occasional flirting. but we’re just friends, you often reminded yourself. and you were fine, well, mostly fine, with that.

tonight was like any other night: both you and him spending hours in a video chat with nothing better to do than mindlessly play games and bash each other. it was more than enough to strengthen your relationship but fell short of giving you the romantic tension you craved.

with kenma off in the bathroom, you, already bored, spun wildly in your chair. forgetting that your earbuds were still plugged in, the white wire caught on an opened can of coke sitting on your desk, spilling the sugary drink all over your keyboard and the front of your shirt.

“shit!” you quickly scrambled for paper towels, but the still-connected wire yanked you backwards. in your haste for something to wipe the soda with, the fact that your camera remained on in the video call completely slipped your mind. making the split-second decision that the trip for a towel wasn’t worth it at this point, you quickly whipped off your shirt, dabbing the keys with the part that was still dry. since you were home, you’d gone braless, and your current predicament had you flashing your webcam.

now, kenma had seen a lot of things from your side of the call: he’d seen you get chewed out by your residential advisor for being too loud, you with two sticks of pocky poking out of your mouth like walrus tusks, and you doing random cosplay moves you’d seen on tiktok. what he wasn’t expecting to see, not even in his wildest dreams, was a screenful of your tits, slightly damp from the cola that had seeped through the fabric of your long-gone shirt.

he stopped in his tracks, still out of the frame of his camera, eyes wide and heart racing, desperately trying to calm down and prevent the gradual hardening of his cock in his pants. unable to deny his desires, he continued staring at your plump breasts on his computer, you completely unaware that he could see you.

you quickly threw your soaked top in the laundry basket before throwing on a random sweatshirt and trying to calm your frazzled nerves. you tentatively touched your keyboard, groaning internally when you fingers lightly stuck to the buttons. it’s gonna take forever to clean this, you mourned.

“hey,” kenma mumbled, reappearing on screen and shaking you out of your thoughts.

“hey.” you noticed his flushed expression. “are you okay? you look really red.”

“uh, yeah. i actually uh, i feel kinda sick. so i’m gonna, gonna go.”

“oh, okay.” why’s he acting so weird? “feel better!” you disconnected from the call with a huff, disappointment morphing your face into a pout. well, you thought, better get to cleaning.

kenma, on the other hand, was still, swallowing as the bulge in his boxers became agonizingly hard. though the only thing left on his screen was his reflection staring back at him, the luscious view of your bust was etched in his mind. his hands moved to free his cock, the tip an angry red and smearing pre-cum over the waistband of his underwear.

“fuck,” he whined, slowly stroking up and down. his thighs trembled as he fell back into his chair, mind wandering. he couldn’t stop himself, his thoughts become more and more lewd, fantasizing about how your breasts would bounce as he thrusted into you, how your thighs would wrap warmly around your head as he ate you out, how you’d cry out his name so prettily when he made you squirt around his fingers.

it was all too much, and as the circle he made with his fingers tightened as he reached his tip, he lurched forward, alarmed at how good everything felt just by thinking about you. i can’t cum, i can’t, the small part of his brain that wasn’t completely overtaken with pleasure tried to reason with him. there’s no going back if i—shit—if i cum. she’ll know, somehow, if i—if i cum, i—

the ecstasy kept clouding his judgement and his body worked against his mind as his hand pumped faster and faster while his conscience screamed to stop. his wrist wetly slapped the base of his cock, the sounds of both his hands and his moans getting too loud for comfort, but all he could think about was you. your eyes, your mouth, your chest, your legs, your ass, your pussy. god, he wanted to be in you so badly.

he couldn’t hold back, his insatiable need to cum overriding his senses, and the translucent liquid twitched out of his throbbing cock in spurts, drenching his fist and his balls. “fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m—fuck.”

he collapsed against the back of his chair, chest heaving with the sheer intensity of his orgasm. he combed a hand through his hair, the consequences of his actions now weighing heavily on his shoulders. i’m never gonna be able to look at her in the eyes again, he lamented. how am i ever gonna—damn it.

the sudden ping of a notification had his eyes raising from the mess on his pants towards his computer screen.

meanwhile, you were messaging kenma, a little off-put by his sudden radio silence but chalking it all up to his mysterious sickness.

[11:05 PM] you: hey ken! hope u feel better

[11:05 PM] you: if u get the chance u should check out what i added to our minecraft house. its perfect for sick victorian orphans like u

[12:14 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: why arent u responding

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: ok u got me ill tell u

[12:05 PM] you: its a hot tub

[12:05 PM] you: but with soup

[12:05 PM] you: but the soup is lava

[12:05 PM] you: genius right

[12:06 PM] you: anyway get some sleep and feel better <3

[12:06 PM] you: lmk if u wanna play animal crossing

[12:06 PM] you: actually no u should sleep. rest ur eyes and shit

[12:06 PM] you: no animal crossing for u!

[12:06 PM] you: sleep well so i can destroy ur ass in val tmrw

[12:06 PM] you: >:)

he sighed as he read your one-sided ramblings. he really liked you.

and he really wanted to fuck you. lucky for you, you wanted the exact same thing.

if only kenma knew what you did on the other side of the screen, hands in your undies and his name on your lips...

>> part two

#i have never played a game of valorant in my life #for someone thats only watched their friends play i think this is pretty decent #like wtf is ascent idfk #kinky.inky #haikyuu smut #haikyuu! smut #kenma smut #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x you #kenma x reader #tw.dubcon #kenma

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cvtqr · 3 years

Text

hm, boring

parings; jean kirstein x reader x marco

content warning; relationship with sharing, hair pulling, face fucking, degradation, spanking, squirting, horse cock marco, + someone additional listening in

“jeannn~ ‘m tired. come cuddle with me pleaseee~”

“EREN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WE’RE ON THE SAME SQUAD!?”

there he goes, ignoring you. nothing new though. every single night jean would be on his god damn game with his friends. night time was the only time you two could spend together because of your jobs getting in the way. he doesn't even like eren yet he choose playing with him over paying attention to you? tch, what a joke.

that's when the idea popped in your head. you reached over to the nightstand, grabbed your phone, and opened your messages.

hey bodt! come over and hang with me n jean, haven't seen you in awhile :)

y/nnn!!! i was actually just doin some work at the cafe by your apartment! guess i’ve been overworking myself that i haven't had the time to come hangout with my best friends :(( but since it’s friday i guess ill drop by ≧◡≦

yeah it’s not good to overwork yourself! we’ve missed you, see you soon !

yup ;)

:)***** sorry y/n clicked the wrong button (・_・ヾ

its fine haha, see ya bodt!

you giggled to yourself. yeah, he was your and your boyfriends best friend, but he really was adorable. such a gentleman.

well that's when he isn't drilling into your tight little cunt while jean jacks off to the sight...

“who were you texting now that you’re all giggly?”

“just inviting someone over!”

“who.”

that came out not so much like a question

“marco! we haven't seen him in awhile.” you said while walking up behind jean in his chair.

he spun around in his chair and looked up at you, patting his lap. of course you weren't going to refusing sitting in his arms, so you snuggled into his lap.

“simp. hi y/n” you faintly heard from jean’s headset

“SHUT UP YEAGER YOU CANT EVEN GET A GIRLFRIEND”

you took his headset, since they were just in the lobby of a game, and put it over your head.

“hiiii eren.”

“give me that you little shit.”

you lightly slapped him on his cheek and got up to sit back on your bed, hearing him chuckle.

little did you know you were going to regret thet later

it wasn't long before you heard marco knock on the front door.

you ran out of the bedroom and unlocked the door for him, greeting him with a warm hug.

“ok so i kind of lied. i just wanted you to come over. but that's only because jeans ignoring me!”

before giving him a chance to respond you took his arm and dragged him to the bedroom.

“hey hey jean!”

“hey bodt - EREN STOP IT YOU FUCKING BASTARD.”

you rolled your eyes and plopped down onto your bed, marco following behind you. you knew that jean has an agreement to share you from time to time, so you cuddled up into his strong arms, resting your head on his broad chest.

he smiled and squeezed you tight. but when jean saw you two from the reflection, he was mad. he knew that he shouldn't have a reason to be mad though, he was the one rejecting giving you the much needed attention. he didn't know if it was because marco was the reason you were smiling right now, or the fact that his hand was roaming a little too far up your thigh.

but what jean didn't know was that marcos been... well, sexually frustrated. like he said before, he been burying himself way too deep into work. being a CEO was a lot of work, even for someone as bright as marco. he used to go at it a little too frequently, but now he never even has the chance to jack off.

so what was his real reason for coming here.

“eren are you there? eren? erennn”

not bothering to shut anything off he put his head set down on his desk and walked over to you and marco.

“you guys hungry?”

you slowly opened your eyes, looking over to jean.

you and marco both nodded your heads.

15 minutes later the three of you were gathered in the living room, you and jean sitting on either side of marco.

everyone was laughing while jean teased you as always. but when you went to go playfully smack his head? the cup of ice cold water in your hand tipped over and spilt all over marco’s jeans.

“ ‘m so sorry hold on!!”

you ran up and into the kitchen grabbing a hand towel. you came back to the couch, sitting back in your spot, taking the towel, dabbing it all over the stain on marco’s pants. you didn't know why he was blushing to an extent though.

“its, its fine y/n! its just water it’ll dry”

you removed the towel to reveal a huge bulge in his pants. so that's why he was so embarrassed.

“im sorry, im sorry! ive just been really frustrated lately and-”

“just help him, y/n.”

marco let out a relived sigh when you got onto your knees in front of him. you slowly brought your hand up to his zipper and pulled it down. he then helped you pull of his pants and boxers just for his erection to spring up and hit into his stomach.

he never failed to impress you, he was defiantly bigger than jean. long and girthy with a few veins running down the shaft, pre-cum dribbling out of the tip.

without saying a word, you took his cock into your hands slowly stroking him, using his pre-cum as lube.

“p-please y/n. i want it in your mouth.”

knowing how mean and dominate he can get while riled up, you obeyed, enjoying the shy side of him.

you swirled your tongue around his tip before bobbling your head down, taking as much as you can. marco’s hands found his way into your hair while throwing his head back. it was taking everything to not just buck his hips up and shove his cock down your pretty little throat.

“so you’re just gonna let her run that slutty mouth up and down n not just fuck her throat? hm, boring.”

at the moment you wish jean would've just bit his tongue while marco let out a deep, long chuckle.

he then tightened his grip around your hair and forced you down further onto him before thrusting up into your throat. he was way too big for you, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat earning a gag from you.

“what's wrong can't take it? i really thought you were a slut... getting onto your knees for your boyfriends best friend and letting him fuck that tiny throat of yours.”

his degrading words were enough for you to slip your hands down your shorts, slowing adding friction to your clit.

jean, now fully erect got up from his spot on the couch and squatted down next to you, pulling your hand away and out of your pants, a tight grip around your wrist.

“i don't think anyone told you to touch yourself, now did they?”

without warning, marco came in your mouth, his warm cum spilling down your throat. he then pulled you off his cock, a string of saliva mixed with cum still connecting you to him. marco looked down to jean and nodded.

jean stood up, bringing you up with him and walked over to the bedroom, marco following close behind and closing the door once you all got inside.

jean pushed you down onto the bed. the two men were now hovering over you, looking down onto you. you definitely lost any sort of control over this situation.

“hmm, i think you deserve a punishment baby. i mean for slapping me before.”

“that wasn't my fault tho-”

“shut up. no one said you could talk.” he spat out

jean then sat on the bed next to you. you knew exactly what he wanted. you crawled over and laid face first across his lap, ass perking up, while marco took a seat on jean’s gaming chair facing the both of you.

“you’ll only get ten today. i hear anything fall from that mouth besides you counting, i’m leaving to go spend the night at marcos”

you shook your head yes while a harsh slap landed right across your ass.

“o-one” you said while sniffling

marco on the other hand was started to palm himself through his boxers at the sight in front of him.

“te- ten!” you basically cried out at this point. you usually get more, but jean was harsh tonight.

meanwhile, no one in the room realized the discord chat going off on jean’s computer

surprised your still on... mikasa ratted me out about something so my mom called and chewed my ear out longer than expected.

helloooo?

jean?

“my sweet girl, you were so good for me. as a reward i’ll let you have marco’s cock. you’ll let him fuck you, right baby?”

eagerly you nodded while jean switched places with marco, now sitting on the chair.

“as always im going to prep you first, i wouldn't want to hurt you. that alright?”

without having to say anything you pulled your shorts down and disregarded them onto the floor.

marco then pushed you down onto your back while slipping down your panties. you looked up into his eyes while he shoved to fingers knuckles deep into your cunt, earning a sweet soft moan from your lips.

a few minutes after using his fingers to stretch you out, you left your climax building with a familiar feeling in your stomach.

“m-marco i’m gonna~”

about to cream all over his fingers, he pulled them out and flipped you onto your stomach.

“didn’t think i’d let you off the hook that easy hm?”

“marco pleaseee, i need too, please!!” you were basically sobbing over the fact that you wanted to get fucked

“no need to be a little cry baby y/n. he’ll let you cum when he wants to.” said jean from across the room, fucking his fist

“no, no its not that... it’s just that nothing feels better than your sweet cum running down my shaft.” right when he finished his sentace he shoved his cock right into your tight cunt, completely bottoming out and thrusting into you without giving you time to adjust.

“ ‘s too big marco please!”

“sorry, couldn’t help it baby.” the sight was so lewd. marco pounding into you from behind and shoving your head down into the mattress. jean behind you two fucking his first harder than ever. the room filled with wet slapping sounds and your loud moans, along with grunting from the two boys.

“ ah~ baby you’re squeezing me so, so well.” said marco while reaching his hand down, finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles around it.

“mm need to-”

marco sent a harsh slap onto your clit, sending your whole body jerking foward, squirting all over his cock.

marco let out another chuckle at your reaction. “wow, first time anyone’s ever squirted on my cock.”

he pulled out soon after and released all over your ass, crashing down on top of you, out of breath. jean was about to come over and help the both of you clean up until everyone heard a sort of high pitched moan. you and marco knew that didn’t sound like jean and both flipped over.

you all soon realized the headset on jeans desk, the green light indicating it was still on and running. you all then caught on to what was happening on the other side.

“wow jean... didn’t know little y/n was such a slut.”

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mcyt-imagines · 3 years

Text

TommyInnit Confession HCs

This is a combination of an imagine and some headcanons, this is a new way of writing for me so let me know if you enjoyed this format!

- Tommy realising he loves the reader and how he’d confess to them -

Tommy definitely would deny being interested in the reader in the beginning.

It would probably be a natural progression of feelings but tommy just wouldn’t realise it until WAY too late.

Like he just catches himself thinking about them when he’s just doing schoolwork and chores. And then he’s aware of just how much his mind wanders to them. Far too often in his humble opinion.

He lays hints about his crush when talking with Tubbo. He’s real defensive about it though. “You much of a ladies man Tubbo?” Trying to discretely get advice without actually asking for any. And Tubbo being Tubbo means he completely missed all the hints Tommy was dropping. (Not that Tommy’s hints were any good)

His stream for sure notices a change in his behavior, more scatterbrained showing visible signs of stress maybe a little more irritable too. Tubbo definitely notices the changes too and asks him about it.

Tubbo would probably ask tommy on stream or in private something along the lines of. “What’s up Tommy, you’ve been kinda uh, distracted lately…”

Tommy for suuuuuure blushes and stutters out a response that even Tubbo doesn’t buy. (So instead he talks to Tubbo about it off stream, doesn’t mention his crushes name, but he keeps Tubbo in the loop. Tubbo finds the whole thing very funny because of how defensive Tommy gets in response, however he offers his support to Tommy, obviously. “Even though I have no experience with romance Tommy. I’ll do my best to be the best wingman ever!” With a salute to Tommy on his webcam. Tubbo quickly leaves the call saying he needs to do some ‘research’ (he puts the word in quotation marks with a wink)

Tommy would be a stubborn flustered MESS if stream ever figured out that he was crushing on someone.

And of course they find out because Tubbo slips up and mentions Tommy having a crush.

By that point he is absolutely CONSUMED by his thoughts about the reader as the more he tries to not think about them the more he wishes he was with them.

He also would 10000% be ignoring or avoiding his crush for as long as possible because he knows he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word to their face. His usual ‘big man’ façade would be in absolute shambles if he were around the reader during this time.

There would be a lot of internal and external swearing from Tommy when he finally realises and accepts that he likes you though.

However, this acceptance doesn’t make him any less stressed because now he needs to figure out whether he is even going to tell you!

But he knows he can’t keep living like this as he can’t keep avoiding his crush forever. And he knows the next time he sees you he knows his heart is going to literally burst out of his chest. And he won’t be able to stop himself. So, he devises a plan.

He gets a pep talk from Tubbo in which they help brainstorm his confession plan but he finds himself messaging Wilbur one late night after his stream. “Hey, can I get some advice?” Wilbur is shocked. “Tommyinnit asking ME for advice? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Wilbur teases him for a short while surely. But when Tommy finally puts his pride aside and tells Wilbur about his crush he sobers up quick and dishes out some solid advice and support for Tommy. “In exchange for my services I better be meeting this crush of yours Tommy.” “You got it big man.”

After speaking with Wilbur Tommy feels as if he can finally breathe for the first time in weeks since he first started to realise his feelings for the reader.

CONFESSION DAY!

Tommy sends the reader a text in the mid-morning asking if they wanted to hang out sometime later today. Also apologizing for how ‘busy’ he’s been the last few weeks using schoolwork or chores as his excuse.

He’s furiously texting Tubbo the WHOLE time he’s waiting for a reply from them. Tubbo pulls Tommy onto Minecraft to try and take his mind off the situation. Offline of course, Tommy would not be able to handle streaming right now.

Even Wilbur sends him a few messages to check in, jumping on discord to give his ear for Tommy to chew off. Which he most definitely does.

Eventually his phone dings and Tommy DIVES for it. “THEY SAID YES!” Both Wilbur and Tubbo groan from Tommy’s mic peaking with his screech.

Tommy waits for a few minutes before replying per Tubbo’s request. “I read it online! You don’t want to seem too into them.” He proclaims with false authority as Wilbur chuckles in the background of the call.

The rest of the afternoon blurs for Tommy as he stays on call with Wilbur and Tubbo as they do their best to distract his overactive mind.

However, as the clock ticks on he knows he needs to start getting ready or he’s going to be late.

Wilbur demands that he choose Tommy’s outfit. So for the next half hour Tommy proceeds to perform a free fashion show for the two, only for Phil to join for a short while to give his two cents before going back to his stream.

Eventually Wilbur settles on what he dubbed “-a classic Tommyinnit look-” one of his favourite red shirts paired with one of his nicer black jackets and the dark charcoal pants his mum had made him get a few months ago for a wedding. They are very uncomfortable.

Tommy heaves a sigh as he thanks Wilbur and Tubbo for sticking around with him today. They both send him away, “Good luck Tommy!” “Go get ‘em big man.”

Tommy had agreed to meet the reader at the park, he thought dinner would have been a bit much. Wilbur and Tubbo both agreed on that front. This park was right near the water, so it had a great view of the sunset. He was still pretty chuffed about that fact, his chat was sooo wrong, he could be romantic if he wanted to after all.

Of course, he was a little late. He repeatedly told his mum to speed. She refused of course. His mother of course had noticed exactly what this ‘hang out’ was and had quizzed him about his crush the night prior.

“Don’t leave the car mum.” Tommy was quick to warn her, he did not want her to be anywhere near them. She didn’t need any more dirt on him to embarrass him with. She could end his whole streaming career in an instant if she wanted. A truly terrifying thought.

Tommy was quick to move near the waterfront puffing slightly, nose a tinge pink with the oncoming chilly wind from the lake. “Hey Tommy.” Tommy would freeze instantly before quickly turning with a forced smile, a little too big for his face. “Hey!”

His crush would lead Tommy over to the nearby bench they had been sitting on before he arrived. And they would definitely sit closer to Tommy than he would have wanted.

Tommy would be so obvious. Stuttering over his words, a LOT of frantic hand movements whenever he’s speaking to them.

Mid-conversation his crush starts to laugh. “Tommy I think I’ve figure out why you have been ‘busy’ recently.” Tommy stills immediately, sweat dripping off of him in POOLS. “H-Huh!?” He makes a noise in the back of his throat that he has NEVER made before.

This seems to only make his crush laugh more, they turn fully to him and take one of his clammy hands. He quickly goes to yank it from their grip knowing how sweaty it is. But their grip is strong, and surprisingly calm in contrast to his shaking hands. He gulps simply staring at the spot where their hands are touching. “Tommy.” His gaze snaps up to their smiling face hiding slight worry. “Breathe.” And he finally does. His tense shoulders drop, and their hand leaves his. And suddenly he’s laughing harder than he ever has before realizing how ridiculous he’s being right now. And when he looks over, so is his crush.

The conversation from that point on flows naturally as the two finally begin to catch up after not seeing each other for a few weeks.

Tommy finally realises how comfortable they make him feel. He simply stares at them as they speak. Awed that it took him this damn long to figure out he liked them.

His crush stops talking, noticing him staring. He jumps out of his thoughts, “Hey Tommy, take a picture it’ll last longer.” And suddenly he’s sweating all over again as they laugh.

His crush is having the time of their life watching ‘big man’ Tommy squirm beside them. Trying his best to scrounge up the courage to say something, anything to them.

They open their mouth to speak when suddenly Tommy yells, “I LIKE YOU!”

Tommy isn’t even looking at them, he has his eyes squeezed shut and he thrusts his arm outwards holding something which promptly shoves into his crush’s chest. Effectively winding them.

They wheeze in response, “Me too. Don’t know why though goD!” They push out through gasps of air, pressing a hand to their chest. Pain beginning to subside as Tommy realises he literally just punched his crush.

His jaw drops and his silence continues as they take what was in his hands. A small book.

A scrapbook.

His crush’s face softens as they flip through the photos, memories flooding back to them of days long gone by.

Tommy stayed up all night yesterday just to finish the final details on the scrapbook, it isn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing. (Even he knows that) But he put his heart and soul into it.

“Very sweet of you Tommy. But I didn’t bring anything for you…” They end up mumbling in response. Tommy only grins. “So you like it?” They scoff and finally pull Tommy in for a hug. He stills for a moment, then melts into their hold.

Tommy mumbles his apology for literally punching them into his crush’s hair. They giggle into his chest in response, letting him know that it’s fine, they’re okay. Tommy mumbles something incoherent into their hair and presses a cautionary kiss to the top of their head.

“AWWWWW!” A loud noise comes from behind their bench. Tommy and his crush dive apart only to see Tommy’s mum hidden behind a nearby tree.

“MUUUUUUUUUM!” Tommy screeches as his crush cackles out a laugh.

Tommy’s mum ends up driving his crush home as well, they sit in the back seat of the car holding hands.

“This didn’t go at all how I’d planned…” Tommy complains with a deep pout. “Oh really? Your plan didn’t involve punching me? Huh?” Their crush sniggers at him.

“Oh! His real plan-“ His mother starts and in order to cut her off Tommy just starts yelling at the top of his lungs “Nononono!!”. Causing his crush to burst into laughter as the two try to increase their volumes to drown out the other.

His crush shakes their head with a grin and wonders what the hell they’ve just gotten themselves into.

#tommyinnit #tommy x reader #mcyt headcanons #mcyt imagines #mcyt x reader #tommy mcyt

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid.

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it.

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth.�� All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

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ask-fantasy-sanders-sides · 3 years

Note

So, wait, toes Remus know that Virgil is a dragon too?? if he does, did Virgil tell him or did he just figure it out?

It wasn’t too long after their escape from the prison complex that Remus got irritated.

He didn’t regret dragging the strange assassin along — after all, Remus probably wouldn't have been able to escape without him — but he was getting more and more frustrated with his lack of response to...well, anything.

Remus has attempted more than once to scare and/or gross the stranger out with diatribes of gore and violence, but that hasn't phased him at all. Really, Remus thinks he probably should have expected that response from a dark-elven warrior, but it was a little jarring to have his usual monologues accepted with little more than a cursory glare. It didn't help that he had to speak to the soldier in the goblin language, which neither of them knew well enough to share many complex ideas.

Then, there were his rages. Remus wasn't really himself in that state, and he knew he was quite the sight to those who had never heard of a barbarian. He's pretty sure that if he had some foggy awareness of the assassin being disgusted or even mildly intrigued by his berserk mode, he would have remembered them. As it stands, nothing.

Then, there was his trump card: The first time Remus let out his true form and went berserk on a few guards, the assassin barely even noticed the difference. Remus dismissed it at the time, assuming they had just been busy doing their thing and hadn’t seen him do it. But, as they were sneaking away from the castle spires the next day and he had to dispose of some noble-looking witnesses, Remus definitely saw the assassin look at his wings.

Still he made absolutely no reaction! He doesn’t seem to react to much of anything, unless he’s being mad at Remus for yelling too loud or missing a swing. Admittedly, being able to spark annoyance in the stuck-up soldier is a little fun, but even his moments of anger are few and far between.

This is the first and only time someone has seen Remus’s kick-ass undead angel wings and not had a damn thing to say about it, and Remus can honestly say he hates it.

So, now that they’re finally outside of the Colony walls (and Remus doesn’t have to worry about the assassin chewing him out for making a scene,) Remus smirks deviously at the unsuspecting drow.

“Hey! Watch this,” Remus shouts, then closes his eyes to focus.

He reaches deep inside himself to connect with that boiling mass of discordant energy — a frothing core of divine light that’s spoiling rotten and necrotic, burning away the mold, healing, and then spoiling again, over and over with each beat of his two hearts. As he’s practiced ever since he was a child, Remus grabs that energy and pulls it out, dismissing a weight in his stomach that he hardly notices until it's time to let go.

The instinctual protective glamor that hides his true form dissolves in the firelight of his true essence, as bone-like angel wings, void-like eyes, and a tidal wave of smoke pour out of Remus like air from a popped balloon. A sickly green glow outlines his irises, his scars, and emblazons the emblem of a sword over his chest. He can feel it as the energy unfurls, how the world spins and sears into focus, how his senses grow sharp and breathing is suddenly so much easier than it’s ever been before. This is what he truly is, how he really looks, and it is a figure that strikes fear and awe in every creature who has the misfortune of seeing it.

All except one. Apparently.

The assassin simply stares at Remus, stone-still as Remus’s whole fucked up magical girl cutscene plays out point-blank in front of him. The fear-inducing necrotic gas rolls past the assassin's feet and into his lungs, but nothing happens. A few seconds pass, and he still hasn’t moved, but he’s clearly not gone into shock or anything of the kind.

Eventually, the assassin gets the impression that Remus is expecting a response. So, he cocks his hip out to one side and folds his arms, mimicking the facial expression that he’s gathered humans make when they’re confused: a pointed eyebrow raise.

(Given his usual glowering expression, it comes across more like sass.)

The minute passes, and though Remus feels the smoke dissipate and his eyes and scars return to normal with a sinking feeling in his gut, the wings remain. Instead of dismissing them, Remus throws his arms out wide with a growl,

“Seriously? That’s it? You’re not scared!”

“Scared?” The assassin parrots lowly.

A wide smile stretches across his lightly-freckled face. In the space of a blink he’s behind Remus, gently peeling the barbarian’s tattered shirt away to get a better look at the base of his wings.

He lays one ice-cold hand against the divot between them, touching him clinically, like he’s trying to figure out how solid Remus's wings are. His hand smooths gently across the stump where flesh gives way to semi-transparent bone before Remus's brain catches up. He shrieks and jumps away from him,

“What the shit are you doing?!” Remus squeaks, eyes wide as saucers. He would be more embarrassed by how absolutely unthreatening he sounds right now if he didn’t still feel the shape of that hand on him like a brand.

(He decides that this is more because of the supernatural nature of his wings, and not because Remus hasn't been touched that carefully by another person since he was like eleven. He doesn’t have time to unpack that feeling whatsoever.)

“You told me to look.” The assassin teases, openly laughing at Remus’s expense.

Then, — and Remus could swear he’s doing it slowly just to make sure Remus sees him — the soldier takes a deep exhale, and his purple eye flashes a soft glow. Suddenly, his body evaporates until he is a cloud of shadowy smoke. This smoke quickly blends in with the surrounding darkness of the cavern, and before Remus can get a word in edgewise, the assassin has re-solidified and is poking his back again.

“StoOOP TOuching me!” Remus yelps and spins around to face him, face red as blood and hands up in a defensive position, “Since when could you do that?!”

The assassin rolls his eyes at this, his hands falling to his sides. Now he takes a moment to think, before reaching down to untie his dagger belt and pull his tunic loose.

“What are you doing?” Remus protests louder, covering his eyes with his hands.

The assassin doesn’t respond.

Though he’s reciting curses in his head and trying very hard to respect this stranger’s privacy, Remus’s curiosity quickly gets the better of him.

He peeks out between his fingers to find the soldier shirtless, his white hair parted and pulled over his shoulders. He looks up at Remus with a completely unimpressed stare.

The assassin reaches out to grab one of Remus’s hands, then turns to show Remus his back.

Remus stares for a moment, eyes tracing the thin, ragged lines of a latticework of scars. They stretch across and around the assassin’s back, some older and some deeper. Most seem to have been inflicted by animals or monsters rather than weapons.

Remus feels no sense of pity at the display — he’s got his own patchwork of scars and his own complicated relationship to them, but over all he sees them more as a mark of survival, as stories to tell. But, he is definitely curious, and his mile-a-minute brain is already spinning outrageous tales to match each and every mark.

Then the assassin guides his hand up towards the top of his back, just alongside his spine. The skin there feels leathery, and significantly warmer than the skin of the elf’s hand, though the heat seems to be emanating from someplace lower on his spine. It’s also slightly off-color, a bit lighter than the skin around it. Whatever this is, this scar is old.

Remus traces the outline of it up, then off to the side as it tapers to a thin line between his shoulder and the base of his neck. The assassin’s ears twitch at the gesture, and Remus’s hand flinches away.

He turns to look at Remus over his shoulder, his neutral grimace returned.

“We are the same. Shadow and wings. You are kitrye'maelthra, right?”

“I don’t know what that is.” Remus frowns, always frustrated when the assassin sneaks an elven word or two into their rare conversations,

“I’m not super good at reading energies, but you don’t feel like an angel… You have wings??”

“No.” He frowns, his gaze becoming soft and distant, “Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Remus sighs, now reeling at the possibilities.

What sort of dark elf grows wings, and how can they be removed? He winces at the phantom pain to his own wings as he parcels through every guess. Did a monster tear them off? The scar was so smooth, it seemed more like they had been burned away with acid. Did he fall into the pit of a living ooze, or maybe it was a punishment from some cruel cultist—

“Yours are broken.” The assassin pries, still staring at him while Remus zoned out.

“Broken? No they're not!”

“You have no skin.” The assassin remarks, like that should have been obvious, “And you look like a ghost.”

“Wait, skin? Like a bat?” Remus laughs, imagining it. He shakes his head, “I’m not supposed to have skin! —Well, I mean, I am, but also feathers. Y’know, like a bird?”

“Bird?” The assassin repeats, like he doesn’t understand the word. He probably doesn’t, goddamn Underdark.

“...Ehh, forget about it. I’ll show you one when we get up there.” Remus shakes his head.

The assassin pulls his tunic back up and re-ties it. While he waits, a sudden thought knocks Remus out of his gruesome imaginings.

He thinks he probably shouldn’t ask, but it takes him all of three seconds to snap and say it anyway,

“Hey,” Remus hums offhandedly, like he’s not extremely invested in knowing the answer, “If you could ‘go ghost’ or whatever this whole time, why didn’t you just poof yourself out of that cell?”

(“And why did you stay to help me?” Remus refuses to add, because he is not that attached to his little stray-criminal monsterboy, goddamnit. He refuses.)

The assassin doesn’t answer or turn back to him, simply staring off in the direction of their path.

Remus huffs and rolls his eyes,

“Fine, damn, keep your secrets. Bet you just can’t hold it that long~”

“Don’t xhandal me, lotha mal'dhalaruk. Usstan orn da'urzotreth dosst et'zarreth.”

“Again, I do not know what the fuck that is.”

#lets roll #long post #long answer #janus's visions #tw violence mention #tw scars #hehe toes #ive stopped making the visions all in italics. its fun flavor but it makes them hard to read lol

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saltminerising · 2 years

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re /post/674678999607345152/

I used to be in Ice. I love the aesthetic, and used to love the dom team when I played many years ago. But when I came back last year from a long hiatus, I discovered that the new dom team is... uncomfortable? I'm not sure how to say it. They're nice enough on the surface, and I had fun participating in dom for one push or two. But the longer I participated, the more I noticed how awful they can be to people who they deem, like... unworthy?

They're super cancel-y and will gang up on people for things that they perceive to be "bad" but aren't... really... an issue?

Tbh I don't even know why they use Discord and not a different chat service, because they have multiple rules (both official rules and unspoken ones that they just "prefer") about how people aren't allowed to use certain Discord features specifically on their server. I once saw a Nitro user ask permission to use the Ice emojis outside of the server, like in DMs and stuff, because they were worried that wasn't allowed. That's... literally how Discord works. It's what Nitro users pay for. And, at the time at least, it wasn't even in the server rules. Why is someone worried the team would get upset with them for it?!?!

There's just this weird culture of people constantly asking if they're allowed to do things or if something is okay, because it's never clear when you'll accidentally step on some hidden trap no one warned you about and get publicly called out for it like you were somehow supposed to know.

They also don't really seem to get how calling someone out or calling out a specific group of people in a public channel can be perceived. It really sucks.

I once told one of the dom leaders I liked their art (literally something like "your doodle of x is super cute!") and rather than just accept the compliment, they got mad at me because I called it the wrong type of animal. It wasn't even a polite correction, which I would completely understand. Rather, they got super offended I would dare mix up two species of similar-looking animal, and went on a rant about it on a public discord channel, saying how anyone could tell those two types of animals apart. Clearly I touched a nerve--sorry, won't compliment your art anymore. I suppose public shaming was an appropriate response for trying to be nice. Maybe that happened to them a lot or something, I don't know. Either way, getting publicly chewed out for trying to compliment someone was definitely a bit of a shock, especially from someone who is supposed to be an organizer in a position of authority.

It's rarely dramatic from them, though. It's usually just coldness, vagueposting, general passive aggressiveness, and borderline-uncomfortable comments until someone just... quietly leaves. Sentiments like how everyone who does or likes a certain thing are bad and should feel bad, clearly not caring how many members that may apply to. There's no sense of nuance or empathy. Honestly, they act a bit like stereotypical cliquey, holier-than-thou private school kids in TV dramas. I think if you agree with all of their preferences you'd never notice anything was wrong, but the moment someone seems to differ in tastes or personality or the way they communicate, they're frozen out.

Fits with the theme of Ice, I guess.

Anyway, I'm in Shadow now. A little squad of us moved over there together a few months ago. Less dom but I'm okay with that, and the eyes are much harder to work with. But the aesthetic is fun and I can always use nest rentals, and so far I've never once felt unwelcome or like I'm going to be driven out for like, I don't know, accidentally crossing a dom leader's personal tastes.

#fr discord #submission #long post

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

Text

Sometimes, Luka hated being observant. He hadn't always been like that, but with his mother being so chaotic and his sister being so quiet, Luka had to learn to read people and anticipate their next moves.

Marinette was easy, honestly, and that just made everything worse. She was an open book, constantly wearing her heart on her sleeve. Everything she felt was right there, on display, for all to see.

So why was it that only he could see it?

It was why he was there, standing at the side door of the bakery and knocking gently to make his presence known. He was supposed to check on the Kitty Section merchandise designs that Marinette was sketching, but really, he just wanted to see her. The quality of what she was working on didn't matter to him in that moment, or he would've just asked her to text them to him.

Once Tom had let him in and encouraged Luka to head up the stairs, Luka did exactly that. His footsteps as he went were rhythmic, even though his mind was playing discordant notes.

He knew enough about everything that'd been happening. He knew enough about Kagami and her relationship with Adrien. He knew enough about what'd been going on in Marinette's class from what the rest of Kitty Section had told him. He knew enough about Marinette's work and how much she did.

He knew enough about her being Ladybug. He knew enough about all the effort it must take to balance being a civilian with being Paris' favorite superheroine.

And, as he tapped on the trap door and called out to her, he knew enough about tones to hear the tiredness in her voice when she replied that he could come in.

He entered, seeing her hunched over her table and working as usual. He could see various pieces scattered across the room, all with various degrees of completion.

"...Marinette—"

"Oh!" She scrambled, fumbling with the sketchbook she'd been working on as she picked it up. She spun her chair around to face him, her fingers pressing a little too hard against the pages as she presented it to him. "These are some of the designs I've been working on! Um, they're not complete yet, but if there are any problems..."

Luka approached, bending down to get a good look at her sketchbook. They were great designs, as always, but his gaze was still drawn to her uncompleted projects strewn about the room, and he knew that Marinette noticed him being distracted by the way she wiggled in her chair, making it creak just slightly.

"They're amazing, Marinette," he said honestly. He considered what to say next, then settled on, "It looks like you have a lot of projects. Do you—"

"It's fine!" she interjected. He looked at her and could tell that she knew her response hadn't been natural. "They're all going great and I've got plans for everything!"

She immediately turned back to the table and continued sketching. Luka could only let out a hum of thought, idly glancing at one of her earrings.

She couldn't have plans for everything, he was sure.

"I know Jule said this weekend, but I know you can get busy," he said carefully. "If it's ever too much for you, you don't have to—"

"No," she cut in curtly. "It's—it's fine. I can handle it."

He didn't miss the way her voice broke when she said it, and the strained expression on her face gave everything else away.

"I know you can." He quietly wished that he'd brought his guitar. "And if you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

She didn't respond, the silence in the room filled by the scratching of her pencil against the paper. Luka leaned over just a little more, careful not to get into her space but also needing to see her expression.

Something was wrong, as he'd thought. Her eyes were locked to the paper, but her heart wasn't into it. He remembered the sound of her sketching during the two-week preparation to make a video for Bob Roth's contest, and this wasn't it.

Softly, he repeated, "I'm here for you."

She stopped drawing this time, eyes staring blankly ahead before finally darting over to him. She blinked a few too many times to be considered normal, then returned her gaze to her sketchbook.

"I—" She swallowed, then exhaled audibly. "I need to finish these."

"For me?" Luka asked.

"No, not—" She straightened, looking at him and raising a hand like she was about to make a point, but stopped herself. "Not exactly. I know you—I mean—"

She blushed, but her face was hard to look at. She seemed pained, and Luka had to force himself to maintain eye contact.

She tore her gaze away from him, staring at the wall off to her side. "Never mind."

Except Luka minded. He minded a lot, and he was certain that she'd said something significant just then.

He looked at her sketchbook, riddled with drawings and notes. He looked at the projects around the room, now wondering exactly who they could've been for. He looked at her, noting the awkward posture of someone who'd clearly been working too hard.

Luka thought back to all the interactions he'd ever seen, along with all the interactions he'd ever heard about. He thought back to his own interactions with Marinette, which had often left her with a smile.

He seemed to be an exception of some kind, and his heart ached as he became aware of the implication.

Things had been rougher in the classroom as of late, hadn't they? He’d heard enough to know.

"Marinette?"

She stiffened, and he waited until she was looking at him again to continue.

He gestured to her sketchbook. "I'm sure they won't hate you, with or without these."

The flicker of shock in her eyes confirmed his suspicion, as much as he didn't want it to. Even as she tried to casually twirl a strand of her hair, he knew what he saw.

"I...I know," she said unconvincingly.

Luka struggled for a moment, torn between a desire to dig deeper and a need to respect her space. He wanted to help her but he feared making her uncomfortable.

"You—" He hesitated. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, Marinette, but I meant what I said."

She faltered, looking back down at her sketchbook and chewing her bottom lip. He vaguely wondered if he was selfish for wanting to be the one to help her.

He waited for what felt like a full minute, just to give her time to say anything, but she didn't. Slowly, he lifted his hand from the table, turning and walking away to give her space.

He felt a hand grab his wrist, almost startling him with the sheer suddenness of it. He glanced back, seeing Marinette leaning awkwardly away from her chair just to maintain her grip on him. Her head, however, was lowered, staring down at the floor.

"...Really?" she asked, her voice quiet. "Do you really mean it?"

"Yeah," he answered without hesitation. "I do. If you need someone to talk to about anything, I'm here."

He felt her fingers twitch against his wrist, like she was debating with herself.

She uttered meekly, "Can we sit down?"

She was already sitting, but Luka knew what she meant. He let out a sound of agreement, and she let go of his wrist as they both made their way over to her chaise lounge. Luka sat down first, then watched as she sat next to him. Her expression was as pained as before, but now there was a willingness there; an acknowledgment and acceptance that he was seeing it.

"Luka," she began, hunching over with her elbows on her knees and her fingers steepled in thought. "Do you... how much do you know about love?"

Luka kept his expression neutral. "What kind of love, Marinette?"

"...All kinds," she replied patiently.

Luka hummed, resting his hands on the cushion as he leaned back. "Enough," he answered, staring at the ceiling. "I love my mom. I love my sister. I love my friends." He managed a small smile as he looked at her. "I love the song in my head."

She clasped her hands together, her forehead pressing into her fingers. He couldn't see her face, but knew he hadn't made her uncomfortable.

She knew very well what he'd meant.

"H-how do you know it's real when you get it back?" she asked, a crack in her voice.

Luka leaned forward, copying her hunched position but letting his forearms rest casually on his legs. "Marinette?"

She shook, finally admitting, "I'm a mess. I don't know what's what anymore." She opened her hands, burying her face into her palms and letting out a groan. "I thought I knew everyone and I thought I knew what I wanted, but I don't. With Adrien, I—"

She flinched, even choking a bit. Luka, meanwhile, smiled reassuringly. "You can talk about him, Marinette. I don't mind."

He really didn't, and she must've sensed that, given how her shoulders relaxed.

"With Adrien, I was so confused once Kagami showed up, then Lila came back to my class and just made everything worse."

Luka, admittedly, had never met Lila, but he knew enough.

He knew Marinette.

"I thought I had it. I thought I had everything right and everything was great, but..." She shook her head, palms still pressed against her face. "I don't. I'm never sure anymore when people love me. It's either unrequited—"

Adrien, Luka was sure.

"—or it's not the kind I want—"

He silently presumed it was Chat Noir, but knew he couldn't ask.

"...o-or..."

She sniffled. Slowly, she lowered her hands from her face, and her eyes were shimmering. "or it feels fake. It feels like there are all these rules and requirements and all these things that I don't even know about until they happen."

Luka saddened, wanting nothing more than to hold her. His hands twitched, feeling the need to touch her, but he kept the desire to himself.

She looked at him. "Did—did I do something? Is that why—"

"No," he said quickly. "No, Marinette, of course not. You didn't do anything."

She seemed grateful for his answer, but her frown didn't waver. She hugged herself, only to then look dissatisfied by it. "I just... I want someone to love me. I want to be loved by someone who means it, but I know I'm a wreck and I'm not ready for anything right now and..." She trailed off with a sigh.

Luka stared at her. He couldn't stop staring at her, even when her vulnerability hurt him. Half of his mind was repeating her words in his head while the other half was racing with a million thoughts.

Then, a single thought managed to sing louder than the rest, causing his usual calm demeanor to weaken and his body to go stiff.

No. No, he shouldn't do this.

This was stupid. This was out of line. This was selfish.

The single thought then reminded him that he was the exception in all of this, and he let out a, "M-marinette," almost involuntarily.

She looked at him, and he felt something inside himself crack at the way her song was playing to him.

"I..." He reached a hand out, going slowly to give her each and every opportunity to pull away.

She simply followed his hand with her eyes. When his hand got close enough to one of her own hands, she raised it towards him in an offer. Accepting that as permission, he gently intertwined their fingers.

"If you'd let me... if I'd work," Luka began, pressing his palm to hers, "I'd happily be that someone for you."

Her eyes went wide, but not with the shock of someone who hadn't expected that response.

It was of someone who had hoped—considered—but dismissed the possibility of such a response a long time ago.

It made Luka's resolve all the greater, even when something in his conscience tried to protest.

"L-luka, no, I—" She shook her head. "I couldn't. You—I'd be taking advantage of you. I like you - a lot - but I'm so confused."

"I know," he assured, "but you can be selfish with me, Marinette."

He paused, considering his wording and realizing full well what both of them would be doing.

"...You can be selfish with me."

She opened her mouth to reply, stopped, then simply stared at him with wonder and curiosity that he'd never quite seen on her before.

"Y-you—you k-know what I meant, right?"

He nodded. He'd agreed wholeheartedly, and she knew that.

She used her free hand to slide herself closer to him. "And you know what that means?"

He nodded again. There'd be no strings attached, and he knew that.

Her face came closer to his as if she was testing him. Searching his eyes for any doubt or hesitance, she asked in a hushed whisper, "A-and you're okay with that?"

He nodded once more, with all possible conviction he had. They'd both be doing something selfish, and they knew that.

Luka leaned in, just enough to give her a sign of encouragement. She breathed up, eyes half-lidded, then copied him by leaning in as well.

Her lips met his, and any reluctance that Luka had was washed away by the eager noise that Marinette made as soon as he kissed her back. She pressed against him, her hand clutching his hand tighter as her other hand went to grasp his shoulder.

Luka shifted for comfort, making it all the easier for Marinette to climb onto his lap. He reached his arm around her, his free hand resting against her back. At his touch, she let out another sound, this one surprised and elated.

Somehow, this girl who had all the friends in the world, who had the adoration of almost everyone in Paris, who knew multiple celebrities who'd praised her...

She was affection-starved. She didn't want adoration, mindless attention, or even praise for her projects.

She wanted to be touched. She wanted to be comforted.

She wanted to be loved.

Marinette held the kiss for a precious moment longer, then pulled away, though she didn't look like she'd wanted too. Luka took in the sparkle in her eyes and the overload of emotion written all across her face.

He smiled, feeling overwhelmed himself. "You're beautiful, Marinette."

She gaped at him, blushing pink, and he giggled at how she was still surprised by his compliments after he'd just made out with her.

Then, she gave him a smile in return, he felt his heart jump at just how warm it was.

His face felt warm too, actually.

Marinette leaned closer, letting go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. She glanced at him for permission, then gave him a tight hug and buried her face into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her in response, keeping the embrace gentle but loving.

He was in this now alongside her, and he was not going to let her misconstrue how he felt about her, even for a second.

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

Stan Falls in Love With a Frog

We started talking about a new Scenario in the Discord, and it’s been making me very happy, especially since the Scenario takes place in a Mystery Trio-style AU, and I’m a big fan of the Mystery Trio AU. So, I whipped this up earlier. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Stan sat on the edge of the dock, looking out over the water of Lake Gravity Falls. In the fading light, mist curled above the lake surface. He sighed and reeled his fishing line back in.

Dammit. I shoulda got here earlier if I wanted to catch anything. Stan wasn’t opposed to night fishing in general, but he was opposed to it in Gravity Falls. He had seen in person some of the weird things that came out when it got dark. Something surfaced in the lake, breaking the thin layer of fog. Speaking of… Stan idly watched it swim. Wonder what kinda spookum this one is. The creature pulled itself out of the lake and onto a large rock. Stan’s jaw dropped. That’s a chick!

It was rapidly getting darker, so he couldn’t make out many fine details. But the creature looked eerily like a human woman. With the exception of elongated, webbed feet and ears, what looked like a pair of antennae, and mottled skin. She pushed back her short hair with hands that also seemed to be webbed.

What the hell is that? Stan leaned, squinting, trying to get a better look. The movement knocked his tacklebox into the lake.

“Shit!” he swore. The woman looked over. Her eyes, glowing a soft blue, widened. She dove back into the lake. Stan sighed. “Great.” He got to his feet and trudged back to the Stanleymobile. Before he got in, he glanced back at the lake. The water was as smooth as glass.

It was like the woman had never been there.

-----

Stan returned to Lake Gravity Falls the next morning at the break of dawn. Normally, he wouldn’t wake up so early just to go fishing, but Ford and Fiddlenerd had a full day of traipsing around in the forest planned. If he wanted to actually have enough time to catch something, he needed to fish before, not after.

If Fiddlenerd’s weird little sister wasn’t visiting, this wouldn’t be a problem. Stan sat down at the edge of the dock and opened the tacklebox he’d “borrowed” from Fiddlenerd. But Fiddlenerd wants someone with actual muscles to be there to protect her from whatever’s in the woods today. There was a loud thunk to his left. Stan looked over. He gaped. The tacklebox he’d dropped in the lake yesterday sat next to him.

“What the hell?” Stan opened the tacklebox to inspect its contents. It was soaked through, which made sense, given it had been at the bottom of the lake the night before. But other than his fresh bait, nothing was missing. “How did-” There was a soft splash. Stan looked up. A creature was in front of him.

It’s that one lady from yesterday. She was mostly submerged, with only her eyes and the crown of her head above the water. Her hair was a black that, like her light green skin, blended in with the lake. She looks sorta like a frog.

“You brought me my tacklebox,” Stan said. The frog woman nodded. “Why?” She hesitated, then sunk underwater. Stan waited for a few minutes to see if she would come back up. When she didn’t return, he sighed and began to set things up to fish.

The missing bait makes sense now. Of course a frog would eat all my worms.

-----

“It’s about time!”

“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too,” Stan groused, pushing past Ford and into the house. He’d spent more time than he meant to fishing. Naturally, the moment he came back home, Ford got on his case.

“We were supposed to leave an hour ago! Today’s plans are completely ruined!” Ford said. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Walking around in the woods isn’t something that takes all day, Poindexter.”

“The specific location Fiddleford and I were going to take his sister to is quite some distance away.”

“It’s fine, Stanford,” said the aforementioned sister of Fiddlenerd. She was laying on the living room couch, reading a guidebook on amphibians of the Pacific Northwest. “I was hopin’ to check out some of the cute places in town, anyways.” She smiled at Ford. “The forest can wait fer tomorrow.”

“I- but-” Ford started.

“Before you short-circuit, Sixer, I’ve got a question,” Stan interrupted. Ford glared at him. “So, I saw this frog-lady at the lake-”

“Frog-lady?” Ford scoffed. Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw Fiddlenerd’s sister still. “Are you mocking me?”

“What? No! I thought you liked weird shit. I mean, you came up here to study it and dragged me along to be your muscle.”

“I like magical creatures, Stanley,” Ford said, crossing his arms. “Not regular humans who have features you might think resemble an amphibian.”

“She wasn’t a regular human!”

“There are no humanoid amphibious creatures around here,” Ford said firmly. “There is, however, a woman in town who was born with webbing between her fingers and couldn’t afford the surgery to get it removed. I think it’s rather cruel of you to make fun of her.”

“No, I wasn’t-” Stan sighed. “Whatever.”

“Go upstairs and change,” Ford instructed. “You smell of fish.”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Doesn’t Shower For a Week,” Stan muttered. Fiddlenerd’s sister snickered softly. He began to walk upstairs. “At least someone around here’s got a sense of humor.”

-----

Though he had returned to the lake at dusk that day, Stan hadn’t seen the frog-lady. He came back the next morning at dawn, hoping to spot her again. As he sat at the end of the dock, he found himself dozing off, lulled into sleep by the early hour and peaceful surroundings. He was jolted back to wakefulness by a splash nearby.

“You came back,” a voice said. Stan looked up. It was the frog-lady. Her head was now fully emerged from the water. She looked at him with intelligent blue eyes. Though her face was one shade of pale green, the rest of her head was mottled with darker greens. Her nose was thin and flat, evidently nonhuman.

“Well, yeah,” Stan said with a shrug. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve gotta thank you for giving me back my stuff.”

“It’s yours. Why would I keep it?” the frog-lady asked. Her voice was lilting and musical, sounding almost like raindrops hitting leaves. And yet, there was something about it that seemed familiar. Like he’d heard her talk before.

“I dunno. ‘Cause you could?”

“Heh.” The frog-lady smiled. “I don’t really have a need for human things.”

“What are you?” Stan blurted out. The frog-lady froze. “Wait, shit, was that racist of me or something?” The frog-lady nodded silently. “I take it back.” He cleared his throat. “My name’s Stan. What’s yours?”

I don’t wanna scare her off. She might be a frog, but she’s pretty cute.

“…Rana,” the frog-lady said after a moment.

“That’s pretty.”

“Thanks.” Rana chewed on her lip for a moment. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what your brother does.” Rana’s eyes bored into Stan. “I know he likes to study critters like me, with or without their consent. Are you collecting data for him?”

“Please.” Stan waved a hand airily. “Even if he and Fiddlenerd were both in full-body casts, he wouldn’t want me to collect data for him.” Rana managed a small smile. “He’d probably hire some weirdo from town to do it instead.” Rana snickered softly. Like her voice, it sounded familiar. A car engine roared to life, the sound echoing across the lake. Stan looked over. Someone had pulled into the parking lot. He looked back at Rana.

She was gone, only a few ripples remaining on the surface where she’d been.

-----

Stan paced in the living room. It had been a week since he learned Rana’s name, and many more meetings with her at dawn. And to his shock, he was beginning to fall for her.

Sure, she’s not human. Sure, she hasn’t come out of the water all the way yet. But she’s nice and funny and teases me when I say something racist against frogs. Stan smiled fondly, remembering how he had brought her worms yesterday, only for her to throw them at him. I like a lady who doesn’t take any shit. He frowned. She doesn’t like worms…what does she like? I’ve gotta impress her if I’m gonna make a move on her. She gets spooked so easily.

“Stanley,” Fiddlenerd said wearily. Stan stopped. He looked over at the card table in the corner, where Fiddlenerd was working on some sort of machine. “Yer goin’ to wear a hole in the wood if ya don’t stop pacin’!”

“Nah, let him keep goin’,” Fiddlenerd’s sister said. Once again, she was on the couch reading a book about amphibians. “Maybe he’ll pick up the pace and start a fire.” She smirked at Stan, who merely rolled his eyes in response.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked. Fiddlenerd’s sister shrugged.

“I like it here. I’ll stay until Fidds kicks me out.”

“So, you’re never gonna leave,” Stan said flatly. Fiddlenerd’s sister snorted in amusement. Stan sighed. He looked back at Fiddlenerd. “Do you know anything about frogs?” Bringing up frogs to Ford only resulted in him scolding Stan, no matter how Stan phrased his questions. Fiddlenerd shook his head.

“No. But Angie does.”

“Who’s Angie?”

“Wh-” Fiddlenerd set down his wrench, staring at Stan. “My sister!” Stan looked at Fiddlenerd’s sister, apparently named Angie. She waved at him cheerfully. “She’s been here fer over a week and ya haven’t even learned her name yet?”

“It didn’t come up,” Stan said with a shrug. Ignoring Fiddlenerd’s sputtering, he sat down next to Angie. “So. Your name is Angie.”

“Yes. It is.”

“It’s a lot more normal than Fiddlenerd’s name,” Stan remarked. Fiddlenerd let out a squawk of protest. Angie sighed.

“Spit it out. What do ya want?”

“Do you know about frogs?”

“I certainly hope I do, since my doctorate is in herpetology,” Angie said tartly. Stan frowned at her. “The study of reptiles and amphibians.”

“Ah. Okay.” Stan scooted a bit closer. His nose picked up on a faint pondwater smell coming from Angie. She eyed him warily. “What do frogs like?”

“What do-” Angie stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me. What do frogs like?”

“I mean, it depends on the frog.” Angie rubbed the back of her neck. “What do ya need to know this for?”

“There’s this frog-lady that I met-”

“Oh, pish posh,” Angie scoffed. “I’ve heard ‘bout yer frog-lady from Stanford. He says that she don’t exist.”

“And you’re just gonna believe him?”

“I ain’t an expert in the wildlife ‘round here. Stanford is. I don’t really have a choice but to take him at his word.”

“Where’s that famous herpetology skepticism?” Stan asked. Angie rolled her eyes and got up, setting her book on the nearby end table.

“I’m goin’ fer a walk,” she said. “If I see any frog-ladies, I’ll let ya know.”

Great. She was my best shot at advice for Rana. I mean, she knows frogs and she’s a woman! Stan’s eyes landed on Angie’s book. Hmm… He picked it up. There was a bookmark. He thumbed to the bookmarked page. It was the beginning of a chapter on a specific genus called Rana. Huh.

“That’s weird,” Stan muttered out loud.

“What?” Fiddlenerd asked.

“None of your business,” Stan shot at him. Fiddlenerd rolled his eyes and went back to working on his machine.

My frog-lady has the same name as a kind of frog. Makes sense. Stan looked over at Angie, who was putting her shoes on by the front door. But why was Angie looking up that kind of frog?

-----

Rana giggled at Stan’s latest terrible joke. Stan beamed.

“Glad you’ve got a sense of humor,” he said. Rana smiled. Car tires crunched on gravel. Stan didn’t have to look to know that it was the arrival of the early fishermen. After two weeks talking to Rana, he’d developed a routine. He would sit at the edge of the dock and wait for her to emerge, then the two would chat until the first fishermen showed up. Stan sighed. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked Rana. Rana nodded. She dipped underwater.

Stan got up and made his way down the dock, ignoring the fishermen who clearly thought he was insane to be at the lake so early for no apparent reason. He walked over to where he normally parked the Stanleymobile, only to remember he’d parked by the edge of the forest that day.

“Great decision-making, past Stan,” he mumbled idly. “Parking where the gnomes could bite through your brake lines again.” He went to the Stanleymobile. Before he opened the door, however, he heard a large splash and leaves rustling nearby. A voice swore softly.

That sounded like Rana. Stan tucked his car keys back into his pocket and went into the woods, following the sound of Rana’s voice. He arrived at a small clearing at the edge of the lake. Rana had pulled herself onto shore. Stan stared at her. It was the first time he was seeing below her neck up close; he’d only seen her full body once before, back when he knocked his tacklebox into the lake. Her front was the same pale green as her face, with darker greens mottling around her sides and back. The texture of her skin looked soft and slimy. Despite her hourglass figure, she was fairly flat-chested.

I mean. She is a frog. Why would she have boobs? Rana pulled herself up into a seated position, leaning against a tree trunk. Stan stared at her long, flipper-like feet. No wonder she swims so fast. Suddenly, her feet began to shrink. Stan’s eyes widened, watching Rana’s flippers change to pale, human feet. His eyes widened further as he realized that her feet weren’t the only thing changing. Before his eyes, Rana was transforming from a frog-lady into a naked human woman. One that Stan recognized.

Rana got up and grabbed a pile of clothing from behind the tree, mumbling to herself. A twig snapped under Stan’s foot. Rana’s head shot up. She stared at Stan in horror.

“Stan?!” she squeaked. Stan swallowed.

Damn, her nose gets flat when she’s a frog.

“Hey, Angie.”

#I based Stan's frog-lady off of the nixies from the Spiderwick Chronicles #so if you want a frame of reference I would google image search that. they are v cool looking #anyways this Scenario is fun and I love it v v v much #Mystery Trio AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Angie McGucket #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #Nixie AU

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scyllascriptor · 2 years

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"I know you CLAIM to be queer but it SEEMS like you only talk about dudes so-" Said someone on an an artist discord server I hang out on.

Ah, but you see. I don't like them in a straight way, because I am not straight. (Serious queer-ass shit under the cut)

It took me until I was in my late 20's or early 30's to realize that even if I experience attraction toward a cismen my attraction is not heterosexual because I am inherently queer. That's why I say "pansexual" too - because whatever you think my attraction is you're incorrect.

It was one motherfucker of a mindjob realizing that the way I was attracted to cismen was COMPLETELY fucking different than my cishet women friends. They'd say things that were like... completely alien to me, but for them it was just normal and natural. I couldn't wrap my head around some of it, let along smile and nod along. And that was also part of realizing that no... I wasn't just kinda butch and a little gay.

It was terrifying, too. Understanding that as an already awkward person with something different about my wiring, that... it would make me hard to love. Not unworthy of it, just very difficult to find someone who fit against that comfortably. Unpack that one for a hot minute.

By the by that's why I never really established deep friendships with folks who ID'd as cishet women when I was younger, and still struggle now. Everyone assumed it was the whole "tee hee I'm not like the other gals", when it wasn't. It was being so gently, casually, expected to fit a specific mold that was alien and sometimes upsetting to me, and the self-hatred it caused when I couldn't (and sometimes absolutely brutal bullying). Sometimes being around very "stereotypically feminine" people triggers absolute pants shitting dysphoria and feelings of inadequacy. I'm nearly 40 and I'm still trying to deprogram myself.

This, as you might imagine, is also somewhat distressing for straight cismen who miss the fact that while I was DFAB, I am not a "she". Because, y'know... they're usually expecting their normal, which is alien rituals to me, and I'm over here in my normal which might as well be a Clive Barker novel to them.

And I can't explain it. I can only show you the emotional bruises and scars.

And that sets aside the whole learning curve of trying to figure out whether you think someone is hot, or whether you're just enamored by how beautiful the whole shape of them is with absolutely ZERO interest in them as a sexual being or romantic partner with special bonus added complexity that you never asked for.

OR whether you actually just wish you could look like them (shout out to Willem Dafoe in "Loveless"). THAT one's a real motherfucker to get a hold on. AND sets aside the whole OTHER part about attraction toward other genders and how that interplays with the whole inherently queer thing.

Anyway I guess the gloss on this is: Don't be that person on the art discord. That shit's an asshole move and you have no idea what someone else's experience is, or where they are along the winding and unpleasant road to processing it. Were I even a few years younger or in a slightly less okay place with "everything" - that would've really fucked me up and put me in a very dark place.

Normalize being like "It's rude as shit for you to even make that statement in the first place and you aren't as woke as you think you are. I'd politely request that when it comes to my identity you keep your commentary to yourself."

Normalize: "I don't categorize you as a potential partner and therefore won't discuss the minutia of that topic with you."

Normalize: "Oh I'm gay as fuck but I just don't talk about women all that much because most of you are straight women and gay men so there's less frequently an opportunity to say that Sigourney Weaver can put me in a half-nelson and personally introduce me to god (respectfully)."

Anyway. IDK. Maybe an overshare, but I typed it all up to chew their face off and then they got banned. It felt like something that just... could bear stating.

#wait so it's all gay? always has been

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hopelessly-me · 2 years

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Okay okay. So. Thursday @harishe-art gave a server a challenge that someone needs to draw something, and someone else needed to write 1k words in three hours and they would release some kinda photo drop. My ass was on an airplane heading out to Boston to see several Winterhawk friends (I got so many hugs. SO MANY GOOD AMAZING HUGS!), and I said "I can do this" Well- I couldn't do it because Hope's mind was on vacation mode which meant stress about traveling by herself to a new place, and making it on time to all my tours, and seeing all of the freedom trail (I missed ONE stop. ONE.) Anyway- I am several days late but! I did write 1k words on vacation. So I'm dedicating this little snippet to you, Hari. Thanks for the challenge I completely failed. But better late than never, eh? Relationship: Clint/Bucky/Nat Rated: Teen Words: 1,023

Bucky couldn’t help it- his leg was bouncing long before they got to the airport, and he was pretty certain if he chewed on his fingernails one more time Natasha was going to make good on her threat. So far she only casted him a mildly amused, yet annoyed, look in his jitters. Since when did you have jitters? It was a fair question, one she had already known the answer to. Sometimes Bucky wondered if she did that just to prolong his torture, poke and prod until he was ready to snap.

“You realize he basically already knows you, right?” Natasha asked.

“Knowing me through a camera lens isn’t the same as knowing me in person,” Bucky argued, his hand coming up and playing with his lip. “In person he might decide there’s no chemistry. Or he might… y’know,” Bucky said, wiggling the fingers in his prosthetic hand just to drive in the point.

“He’s Deaf.”

“Deaf doesn’t exactly equate to missing an arm,” Bucky replied. Natasha huffed out an exasperated sigh and crossed her legs. “Just… let me be nervous?”

Natasha nodded and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “Be nervous. But it’s my job to make sure you’re okay.” Bucky opened his mouth to protest the notion that his reactions were her job to tend to but Natasha pressed a light kiss to the corner of his lips, something he could turn into and enjoy. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”

“I’m okay,” Bucky assured her. “How… long have you two been dating?” he asked.

“Roughly three years,” Natasha answered.

“And he’s okay with this?” Bucky asked.

“Would I have included you in anything if he wasn’t?” Natasha asked. She smiled and cuddled up next to him, her foot knocking into his. “It’s okay if you want to bail. No hard feelings. This kinda relationship isn’t for everyone.” Her fingers brushed Bucky’s hair back before she twirled the ends between her fingers. But I’ve been in a polyamerous relationship before and Clint is… well, he’s Clint, so…” And while to many that didn’t seem like a straight answer, Clint being Clint was certainly a definitive answer- sometimes you just had to know the person to get it.

Bucky nodded and tried to tell himself to calm down. Clint had told them months ago he was fine with them dating- open relationships were kind of his thing anyway. But it was one thing to say that over the internet, and it was an entirely different thing to say it in person. And while Bucky was content if he was only dating Natasha, there was something appealing about Clint every time they all talked over FaceTime or discord. It started as something small- finding him funny, and sincere, and it turned into lighting up when he got home and Natasha was already on the phone; and it was looking forward to seeing that smile, or waiting for him to laugh to the point his whole face scrunched up and Bucky felt like a little piece of him had been stolen away.

But all that was a crush on Bucky’s end. It was a small online fling- casual flirting. It wasn’t anything big- or it didn’t have to be. And the only way he was going to find out was when he met Clint face to face. And maybe that was the most worrisome part of any relationship, right? The potential was there, but that didn’t actually mean anything until something triggered it either way. And the waiting around for weeks had all led to this moment- the first time they were going to meet, face to face.

“His plane must be late,” Natasha commented. “Either that or he stopped for coffee. I swear if he comes with coffee-'' she mumbled. Bucky looked down at her, watching as her eyes scanned the crowd.

“Now someone is getting nervous,” Bucky teased lightly. “Maybe he bailed.” Natasha shot him a look and tugged his hair lightly. “Maybe we should-“

“Nat!”

Bucky had never felt Natasha move so fast. He barely had time to look over before the two people collided in a tight embrace, Natasha’s feet off the floor as Clint held her up. And that laugh- the same one that had made him fall just a little bit in love over the last several weeks was even brighter in person, making Bucky’s heart clench and his lips pull up without any thought.

Clint set Natasha on her feet and held her face, his forehead against hers for a moment, whispering something before they traded a short and sweet kiss. At one point Bucky had been worried that he would be jealous, but instead he felt light and settled. Maybe this was a great idea, worth all the worrying and the doubt.

And the moment Clint looked over at Bucky, a dozen little moments came flashing back to him. The first time he saw Clint over a video call- tired eyes but smiling so brightly. Or the passionate debate between the two of them in which was better- dogs or cats. Or Clint so desperately declaring himself a Gryffindor when clearly he had Hufflepuff energy and only backing down when Natasha pointed out that Hufflepuffs gave off golden retriever energy. Or the time Bucky had accidentally called him in the middle of the night for hun, thinking he had called someone else and Clint talking him through waking up from a nightmare.

There were dozens more flying in his head- little moments that built to a trust that Bucky didn’t think was possible. But standing there, such a small space between them- it felt like he has always known Clint. It didn’t feel like the first time meeting. It felt like the first time knowing what home was.

Clint let go of Natasha and walked the small space between them before he pulled Bucky into a tight embrace. And while Bucky was generally opposed to physical contact with people he barely knew, everything just felt… right. And all those echoes and seeds of doubt vanished at the first touch.

#Hope overshares #Hope writes fics!#winterwidowhawk #I could write a whole ass backstory to this #but I wanted to keep it short and sweet and sappy

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