#excuse me sir this is my emotional support cat

[meteor-moon]

Luther: ... whatcha got there?

Five: *carrying a coffee in one hand and a cat in the other* Coffee

#give him a cat #pls #excuse me sir this is my emotional support cat #how did i think of this? #who knows #tua #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #tua incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

[meraki-sunset]

and now i want see Eridan like one of that crazy lady cat who started with that two cats and now have 50 cats and can´t stop because see one and AWW is a cat

Excuse me sir, this is my emotional support cat team

Sprites by @dankmemery6

#homestuck #csau extra #homestuck au #crow strider au #eridan ampora #jas lalonde #nepeta leijon #hal strider #davepeta #fefeta peiion #meulin leijon

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat: Agent Zero —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: I was supposed to go see NWH last monday but I got sick🥴 pray so I can go today -Danny

Words: 1,224

Phase Four Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Little League’ -by Conan Gray

xi: Michelle Jones

"So, what's the plan, Parker?"

"I will be in the cathedral tower, keeping watch for the fire monster. When that shows up, I will radio you guys, and then Mr. Beck and I will—"

"My name is Mysterio," Quentin intervened amicably.

Peter smiled. "That's when Mysterio and I will move in. Copycat's not going to participate unless things escalate and we need backup."

"A total waste of me," she sighed.

"We'll use you if it comes down to it," Quentin eased her, then he looked at the boy. "Peter, listen to me. The best hope you have, the only hope, is to stop it here now, no matter what the cost. Maneuver it away from civilians if you can, but most important, keep it away from metal. If it gets too big, it'll draw power from the Earth's core. After that, there's no way to stop it."

"I had a friend who could give great speeches," Cat pointed out. "I wonder if it takes practice, cause yours suck."

"Hey guys," Peter spoke before the older man could reply, "my friends are here... And I can't help but think we're putting them in danger—"

"You're worried about us hurting your friends?" Fury raised his voice.

"Sir..." Cat warned him.

"You, who called a drone strike on your own school tour bus?"

"It was his first time handling Edith, calm down—"

"Stark gave you two multibillion-dollar A.R. tactical intelligence systems," Fury approached them menacingly, "and the first thing you do with it is try and blow up your friends! It's clear to me that you were not ready for this!"

Peter kept his eyes down. Fury walked away and the boy excused himself and walked out of the room. Quentin said he'd take care of it and she seized the moment to take control of the situation.

"That was a bit too much," she scolded her uncle.

"What he did was irresponsible," he replied, "I thought that by bringing Parker to the mix you'd feel pressured to do your best but I was wrong."

She supported one hand on the table and leaned closer so only he could hear her. "Peter wasn't raised to be a level-headed warrior but he's never let anyone die on his watch. You yell at him like that again, and I won't care if Fury hired you, I'll kick you out of the planet myself."

"You're letting your emotions rule your actions. That's human behavior, Co'kat. You're spending too much time with that kid and your mimicking's picking it up—"

"You better be glad about it," she scowled, "it's the only reason I'm not beating you up as a warning."

"Enough." Hill approached with a glare. "Talos, you shouldn't have snapped at the boy like that. Co'kat's right, he fixed his mistake and it was out of line. You—" she added before Cat could look too smug, "don't forget it was thanks to your uncle that you're able to use your abilities."

Fury and Cat looked at each other.

"You can tell him that I'm sorry if you want," he said, "go back to the hotel, rest a little."

"Peter would never believe Fury had the decency to apologize, but I appreciate it," Cat looked at her watch. "Gotta do something..."

MJ walked out of her room at the same time Cat walked past it. They stared at each other in stunned silence until Cat raised a tentative hand.

"Hi."

MJ stared at her hand, and she frowned. Cat used to hate it whenever she'd make that face because it meant MJ was judging her, but after so long without seeing it, it made her feel a strong fondness towards the girl.

"What?"

"I'm ready."

MJ shrugged. "Ready for what?"

"To apologize," Cat grimaced. "You know that I suck at it... but I gotta try. You deserve an apology and I deserve to be yelled at."

MJ crossed her arms. "I'm listening."

"I won't narrate what happened during the blip, it doesn't mean anything to you..." Cat had to take a moment, this was harder than she'd thought it'd be. "I'm sorry I stopped talking to you. I did things thinking I would not see you again, P.J. died and I left school, and I..."

She looked up, forcing herself to face MJ.

"I broke up with Peter and vanished from your life because I thought I could pretend none of that had ever happened, then maybe I could also pretend my brother was somewhere out there with you. Or at the very least, that I hadn't lost anything at all."

She cleared her throat, she wasn't going to cry.

"Growing up would've been tough with you, but without you... it was agony. Last week I had an argument with one of my friends about jaywalking," she let out a dry laugh, "he dated my brother for some time and he'd told me that P.J. asked him to keep an eye on me. I couldn't stand that."

"Pi had a boyfriend?" MJ asked, momentarily forgetting about her walls. "Like a real one?"

"Yeah," Cat rubbed her eyes. "Harley. I introduced them to each other when I was a teen..."

"And they dated for that long?"

"About half a year before Piet—" she stopped before saying the wrong name. "You know... I have a terrible memory when it comes to street names or my cellphone number, but I remember everything about us. I think about Pi multiple times a day so I don't forget him. If I had known this was going to happen..."

MJ looked down at her feet and then at a wall behind them. "I want to be mad at you."

"That's okay."

"No." MJ pressed. "I wanna do it because if I don't, then I'll like you, and if you disappear a second time I'll get hurt again." She blushed a little. "And I don't want to feel guilty about liking Peter."

"You're already feeling guilty," Cat smiled a little, "it worried you that the only reason he was your friend was that I was nice to you... you wanted to find out if that was true. If you hadn't developed feelings for him, you would've tried to drag me back into the group no matter what, but you couldn't help yourself."

MJ glanced at her. "I tried not to like him."

"I'm sure you did."

"Peter's always been nice to me... he just wouldn't go away..."

"He tends to do that," Cat looked into the girl's eyes. "I broke his heart. It's too late for me, MJ."

"But he still likes you," her old friend tried to sound casual. "I mean, as soon as you showed up he went back to chasing you..."

Cat laughed in spite of herself. "It's his burden."

The girl frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's been forced to be my escort." She smirked. "But he's only talked about you since I got here."

MJ grimaced. "That must've been super awkward."

"Is it?" Cat shrugged. "Awkward topics have never been a problem for me, anyway."

MJ reached out and shyly squeezed Cat's elbow. "I forgive you."

The agent closed the distance between them, she was taller now, and the girl's head was awkwardly placed on her shoulder, but she didn't push her away.

"Thank you," Cat sighed. "Don't worry about me and Peter, I'm dating someone else now. I'm happy."

"What?" MJ's head moved away from her shoulder. "You said Peter misunderstood you!"

"Back when I spoke to him, yes, but now it's true..." since it was C.C.'s life, she decided someone as silly and harmless deserved a strong and protective boyfriend.

Matt Murdock was the perfect fit.

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@ieatpanicattacksforlunch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jesuswasnotawhiteman​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @siriuslysirius1107​​​​​​​​​​​​​​���​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @greengarsstuff​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @itsyagirl01​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @23victoria​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @espressopatronum454​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jkthinkstoomuch

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #copycat fic

[im-a-natural-gloom-boi]

I've become so invested in neko atsume so quickly my god

#excuse me sir that's my emotional support cat game #anyways i've had so many cats visit me and i love all of them #they're so adorable #why the hell did it take me so long to play this game #it's giving me a fuck ton of serotonin like it's that one house on halloween that has the full size candy #i hit the jackpot man

[kyoties]

they send a bunch to everyone in Soul Society ref’d from this very interesting stock photo

#yoruichi x sakura x urahara #yorusaku #urasaku #ot3 #bleach crossover #going through tsa excuse me sir that is my emotional support cat #byakuya throwing their postcard away almost immediately #bleach x naruto crossover #yoruichi shihouin #urahara kisuke #sakura haruno #my art #hey rep remember when you asked for this a thousand years ago? #good times

[something-of-a-hermit]

How Arya lets me know I haven’t given her enough attention today

#arya #cat #pet #anyone else have a cat that does this #excuse me sir thats my emotional support cat #she may be a gremlin #but she is my gremlin #the fiend is currently sitting in my lap chirping happily

[lex-posts]

Luz, holding amity and hunters hands: Excuse me sir, these are my emotional support stubborn feral cats.

#the owl house #toh #toh spoilers #incorrect quotes #luz noceda #luz #hunter #toh hunter #the golden guard #amity #amity blight

[khaleesiofalicante]

LBAF - Deleted Scene #1

Here you go, you heathens. 

This scene happens a few weeks after Max and David start dating. 

David walked up the stairs, carrying the magazines in one hand and a box of donuts in the other. There was a little skip in his step, he noticed. He was excited to see his boyfriend. It felt weird to call Max that. 

Boyfriend. 

David giggled to himself and hoped no one saw that. 

Also, the Consul wasn’t home apparently. So, that was nice.

Once he made it into the apartment, he gave Max the box of donuts and a kiss on the lips.

“Double glazed,” Max made an appreciative noise as he shoved one into his mouth. “David, you really know how to make a man moan.”

David’s cheeks reddened. Someone cleared their throat.

“Ahem.”

David turned around and almost dropped the magazines. He whirled around and glared – or did his best impression of it – at Max.

“You said he wasn’t home!”

“You wouldn’t have come if I had told you he was home,” Max shrugged.

“Max!” David groaned.

“Are you wearing my sweater?” the Consul demanded incredulously.

David looked down at the pale blue oversized sweater and then looked at Max. By the Angel!

“I didn’t know!” he said quickly. “Max was wearing it last week and then he left it in my room and-”

“He left it in your room?”

“Relax, dad!” Max rolled his eyes. “I just spilled some sauce on it. We didn’t even do anything that day!”

“So, you’ve been doing things on other days then???” the Consul inquired.

David was contemplating whether he should jump out of the window and run back to the institute when the high warlock walked out of the bedroom, tying an orange robe around him.

“David is here!” the man in orange said cheerfully. “Wonderful! Just in time for breakfast!”

“Oh, I don’t have to stay,” David said quickly.

“You heard him,” the Consul repeated. “He doesn’t have to stay.”

“Alexander, hush!” the warlock said and kissed the Consul on the cheek. The Consul shut up and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

David wished he could make portals too so he could get out of here. It’s not that he didn’t like the Lightwood-Banes. He loved them in fact.

But their energy was too much for him sometimes.

He felt something rub against his leg and looked down. He picked up the cat with one hand gave him a kiss.

“Bonjour, mon cheri,” David whispered at the cat.

The little creature purred in his palm and tried to sneak inside his sweater.

“You know, David. I was worried about Max dating at first,” the high warlock said, pouring himself some tea. “But now my heart can rest easy. Chairman Meow is an excellent judge of character.”

“Yeah, if Chairman likes you then it means you are simply amazing,” Max smiled as the cat ran up to the warlock boy.

“Chairman likes anyone who feeds him tuna,” the Consul mumbled. “He is just a cat.”

“Dad!” Max covered the cat’s ears.

The high warlock gasped. “Alec Lightwood! You take that back!”

“You know I was worried about Max dating too,” Rafael said.

“Awww,” Max cooed.

“I mean I was worried about the person you were dating,” Rafael pointed out.

“Eat ichor,” Max flipped him off.

“Rafael,” David said and held out the magazines. “Here you go.”

The older boy, who was sitting on the dining table and staring at his laptop, looked up. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked utterly tired.

He took the magazines from David and glanced through them.

“David,” the boy said emotionally. “You are my emotional support bro.”

Rafael was studying for his finals. David had promised to help him out with some of the resources he needed.

“Hey!” Max complained. “That’s not cool. I got you cookies from Levain last night!”

Levain was one of the most famous bakeries in New York. Max had taken David there one day as a surprise so he could meet the head chef and learn his recipe for their infamous chocolate chip walnut cookie.

David didn’t know what Max had to do to pull that off, but he was sure there were some bribes – or possible threats – involved.

“You summoned them by snapping your fingers,” Rafael corrected now. “And you didn’t even pay for them!”

“Max!” the older warlock gasped. “How could you?”

“That’s right!” the Consul didn’t look pleased. “We are disappointed with you, Max.”

“You ordered from Levain when I wasn’t home?” the high warlock sounded hurt.

“Okay, we are disappointed about different things apparently,” the Consul rolled his eyes. “Max, you are not supposed to summon things without paying for them.”

“Because it’s unethical?” Max asked, eating his breakfast with no sign of remorse.

“And because it’s illegal,” the Consul corrected. “It’s not okay to steal!”

“But Levain is a big brand!” Max complained. “It’s okay to steal from the rich, dad!”

“We are the rich!” the Consul replied incredulously.

“Dad is right. You are basically contributing to the monopolization of resources by the 1%,” Rafael explained, tapping one of his massive textbooks.

“Nobody asked you, Rafe!” Max groaned, mouthful of cereal. “Show off!”

“No more stealing things,” the Consul said – in his Consul Voice. “Not even from the rich.”

“Not even cookies?” Max pouted.

“I can make you cookies, Max,” David interjected carefully.

“Aww,” the warlock cooed. “There you go, my little robin hood. Problem solved.”

“Guess I’ll take down capitalism in another century,” Max rolled his eyes.

David smiled at that. Max was going to do great many things during his long, long life. David wished he could see them all.

“What’s that then?” the Consul asked from the kitchen, pointing at the stack of magazines.

“Porn magazines,” Max snickered.

“What!?!” the Consul choked on his coffee and glared at David.

“By the angel, Max!” David groaned and then looked at the Consul. “There are just regular magazines and journals, sir.”

“I asked him to find stuff for me from the New York Library,” Rafael mercifully explained. “They are references for my final essay.”

“Why do they ask you to use references anyway?” the high warlock demanded, eating a piece of fruit.

“It’s to validate the claims, Magnus,” the Consul pointed out, sitting down next to him.

“My son doesn’t need to validate anything,” the older warlock huffed. “They should just take his word for it.”

“Oh, Bapak!” Rafael sighed dramatically. “How I wish you were a professor at Columbia.”

“It’s a nice place actually,” the high warlock hummed appreciatively.

“You’re just saying that because literally every one of Rafael’s friends flirted with you when we went for that parents event,” the Consul grumbled.

“They weren’t flirting, Alexander,” the warlock corrected. “They were just giving me compliments.”

The Consul rolled his eyes at that.

Max picked up one of the magazines and flipped through it. “Dad, did you really think these were porn magazines?”

“No, I didn't!”

“Nobody even reads porn magazines anymore,” Max pointed out and then giggled. “Oh my god, is that what you used during your time?”

The Consul went red in the face. “During my time??”

“That’s very presumptuous, blueberry,” the high warlock shook his head. “Pornography is not just for young people!”

David was just quietly standing there and taking in all the banter. He wondered if breakfast in their apartment was colourful like this every single day.

“Well, young people don’t read magazines,” Max huffed. “We use the internet like normal people!”

“We??” the Consul demanded. “You watch porn?”

“Everyone watches porn,” Rafael pointed out, eyes on his books.

“Yeah even David watches porn!” Max grinned.

“Excuse me?” the Consul said.

“I don’t!” David almost yelled. “I don’t even know what that is!”

“You don’t know what porn is?” the Consul asked suspiciously.

“I mean, I do know,” David said - no, blabbered. “But just like the normal stuff. No weird stuff!”

“What exactly do you mean by weird stuff, David?” Rafael giggled.

David was sweating now. The window wasn't that high, right? He could just jump out and run off. 

“That’s enough,” the high warlock said. “There will be no kink shaming under my roof!”

“Yeah, just because I looked up tentacle porn does not mean I am a weirdo,” Max pointed out, glaring at Rafael.”

“Tentacle porn?” the Consul blanched.

“It looked very tricky to be honest,” Max sighed. “Not my thing.”

“It’s not that tricky,” the high warlock said, putting jam on his toast. “The key is to-”

“Okay, we are done here,” the Consul clapped his hands.

Max picked up the box of donuts and took David’s hand. “Cool. We are going to my room.”

“Door open!” the Consul yelled after them.

#what even was this ejhfksjhfsj #but they are such cutooooooes #lightwood bane family #david beauchamp #lbaf #my writing

[teamxdark]

He’s Not Here

More masquerade content but what’s this at the end???

In the grand castle ballroom, surrounded by soft golden light and the countless nobles clad in shimmering fabric, King Arthur was so bored he could cry.

This wasn’t what this night should have been; it was a masquerade party, an opportunity to hide away his identity and mingle among the people 一 okay, the nobility, but he would take what he could get 一 like he was a person instead of a king. Finally he had a chance to dance around until his legs ached, to eat food without worrying about the repercussions to his image should he dare speak with his mouth full or use the wrong spoon, to hold conversations that weren’t about politics or finances or how he was doing the best-or-worst job looking after an entire kingdom with a myriad of people with different needs and opinions. 

So how was it that, out of everyone in that room, he was stuck listening to some dull-voiced stag drone on and on about the rising price of grain?

“This is why pricing is tricky, you have to account for the pests before you ship it out and…”

Arthur fought the urge to dash away, but the instant he tried, he knew he would give himself away. His speed was renowned throughout the land, alongside his golden armor and brilliant blue spines. Those, at least, he had taken care of; Merlina had spent the better part of an hour adjusting his coloring to a warm orange and growing out his spines to disguise him beyond the limits of a simple mask. She had tried so hard to give him a chance to have a night off without people instantly worrying for his favor or trying to get something from him… only for him to be trapped all over again.

Arthur would have happily made an excuse to leave, if the stag would only let him get a single word in. His conversation “partner” seemed not to need to breathe, droning on and on in an endless monotone, offset by the cheerful music and bright lights and flashy costumes.

I’ll never be free of this.

“And now that the price is rising, it leaves me in a strange spot, you see. On the one hand, I sympathize with the people who cannot afford my wares, but on the other hand, it means more profit for myself and my own family.”

Chaos above, Arthur wished he hadn’t bumped into this man. His fingers tapped restlessly against his leg, mildly quelling the urge he had to just flee, to drop everything and everyone he had ever known and flee into the night and into the unknown.

“Not to mention, the cost of labor--”

“Mind if I cut in?”

Arthur’s head snapped over to the new voice, endlessly relieved at the interruption, though the stag continued to drone on, the odious voice still grating his ears even as the king faced the bold newcomer.

It was a tiger clad in elegant black clothing with silver accents, extending a hand out to him, and even though Arthur was eager to take it and be whisked away from this living nightmare, something about him made him take pause. His eyes took in the white fur streaked with blue, the slowly flicking tail that reminded him of Sir Percival 一 was it common among all cats? 一 and the eyes looking gently back at him.

He trusted those eyes. It was the look that they held, a look that reminded him of… 

Arthur mentally slapped himself. He’s not here, he reminded himself as he finally took the hand offered to him.

“Yes, please.”

The tiger seemed to brighten just a fraction at his approval, and he led him away from the trappings of boring conversation to the dancefloor, and Arthur had to try hard not to think about how this felt like being rescued by a knight. Especially not…

He’s not here.

The king was jostled from his thoughts as his new partner started to fit him into a hold, and a brand new anxiety washed down upon him as he tried to remember how to reciprocate the hold. Dancing lessons had never been high on the list of priorities when it came to running a kingdom, and yet somehow Arthur was expected to be able to social dance like a pro when his days were filled from dawn to dusk with meetings and drafting decrees and submitting notices of approval until he passed out on his bed. Arthur swallowed, trying to remind himself that stumbling during a dance was still preferable to listening to that one-sided conversation…

...but his partner didn’t dance like a professional. Well… he did, there was no denying his grace and timing, but he didn’t dance like he expected Arthur to be one as well. The steps were simple, the turns basic, and Arthur’s mind swam in relief as he realized that, somehow, this stranger was leading him through steps that he had managed to pick up on through trial and error.

This chance encounter was proving to be everything he needed.

The stranger led him carefully around the floor, maneuvering slowly around other people rather than weaving expertly between them like so many other couples did. If Arthur closed his eyes, he could easily pretend that he was practicing his basic steps with his brother, or his friends, or his--

He’s not here.

And yet…

Yet it was so easy to picture it, even as the peals of laughter surrounded him and washed into his subconsciousness like a spark of delight for him to enjoy. The strong hold, the careful footwork, the calculated rhythm…

Lancelot…

Arthur’s eyes opened, and though he saw stripes they were the wrong ones, and the bittersweet feeling of missing someone dear to him almost caused him to heave a sigh.

He had it bad, and he knew it. His greatest knight and closest ally and dear friend… Sir Lancelot was beyond compare. From questing as youths to his coronation, and in every disaster thereafter, Lancelot had been there, his pillar of strength in a tumultuous world, always standing nearby to passionately defend him or to spare him a quiet gesture of support. Lancelot had protected him from danger, defended his honor, strived to keep his spirits up for years and years…

Arthur had never considered himself one for romance, but as years went by, Lancelot had claimed more and more of his thoughts, attention and affection until the knight unknowingly held the king’s heart firmly in his hands. Too many times to count had Arthur been struck by the urge to grasp his hands, to sing out the words in his heart to him, to draw him close and see if he could make such a powerful knight’s knees buckle below him with a kiss alone…

One song changed into the next, and Arthur, too swept up in his fantasy, didn’t let go of the stranger, didn’t notice the slight lull in their dance, and so the dream kept going.

Lancelot wasn’t there, but Arthur could lean into this stranger’s hold on him, follow his dance, focus on his attire, concentrate on the energy he exuded, energy that reminded him so strongly of his Lancelot, and Arthur’s mind could so easily turn his dream into something more substantial. An illusion for him to drown in, just like this masquerade offered.

The music kept swelling, the sweet notes tickling his ears and driving him even deeper into his dream like he was in a trance. He kept dancing with the man that reminded him so much of his beloved that a second dance turned into a third, and Arthur clung on to his dream, not even registering that it might seem strange until--

“I mean no offense, but surely there are others who would want to dance with you?”

Arthur blinked, and the dream shattered as the man in his arms shifted back into a stranger. The king’s feet stilled, his gaze dropping to his feet. Arthur had to fight back waves of embarrassment and disgust at himself before he could answer.

“Forgive me, but the way you dance…”

HE’S NOT HERE!

“...it reminds me of someone dear to me.”

“O-Oh.”

His companion seemed at a loss, and Arthur held back another sigh, counting the beats in his head before pulling him along for the next dance, leading him in a very basic, repetitive step around the floor.

“I apologize,” Arthur murmured, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to salvage the situation. At this point, he could only offer his apologies and an explanation. “I know it’s not fair on you, to imagine you are someone else, but…”

A look of hurt passed over his dance partner’s face, and goodness, even that reminded him painfully of Lancelot.

“...but you remind me so much of him.”

Arthur’s eyes swept over his partner, taking in the paradoxical way that he looked completely unfamiliar and yet he still somehow managed to feel so much like his dear knight. Perhaps the dream hadn’t fled from him quite yet, because now Arthur’s yearning mind was searching for any and every chance to convince himself that this was, somehow, Lancelot whom he was dancing with.

“You dance like he does,” Arthur thought aloud, as his partner remained silent. “Careful and precise.”

Your movements… I know them like I know my own.

“Pardon my asking,” the stranger returned, “but why do you not dance with him tonight?”

Like a weight to his soul that would never truly leave, Arthur’s melancholy came back to embrace him. “Ah… he isn’t here.”

He’s not here he’s not here he’s not here--

“Or at least…”

Arthur looked into the stranger’s eyes, his desperation to go back to his dream nearly choking him with emotion as the tiger’s eyes widened at the sudden look directed at him.

“...I haven’t recognized him, yet.”

Arthur knew it was terrible to put such a fantasy on a stranger at a party, but he wanted so badly to believe that this man was Lancelot. Arthur wanted to believe the ludicrous ideas his mind was supplying him with, that somehow this was Lancelot in front of him, disguised beyond all normal means. The tiger in front of him appeared to fluster, his mouth parting as though wishing to speak, though no words came forth.

“You have stripes like he does, too,” Arthur murmured softly, thoughtfully, and yes, he truly was reaching for every last detail in his pathetic attempt to turn what he had in front of him into what he wanted to see.

“If it pleases you,” the tiger finally said as the third song changed into a fourth one, “I… am not opposed to you pretending that I am he.”

Arthur smiled at that, feeling suddenly hesitant at the idea, now that the stranger, as kind and helpful as he had been, had given him his consent to mentally transform him into someone else, to be a player in this dream of his. It was sad, and unfair, but Arthur knew sadness and injustice. He tried to battle it every day, slowly changing and updating laws as they became outdated, but everything went so slowly and people only kept crying out in pain and Arthur wanted just one day, just one, to take ahold of something that he wanted and to cherish it.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered as he stepped further into the stranger’s hold, feeling warmth overtake him as he confessed his truth. “I have loved him for a great long time and… perhaps this is the closest I shall get to what I dream of.”

Because that was all this would ever be: a dream.

He’s not here.

Arthur’s eyes closed as his head dipped down to rest on the tiger’s shoulder, a soft smile spreading over his muzzle as he noticed that he was of a similar height to Lancelot, and the dream came back in full swing. Arthur’s arms wrapped around his partner, blocking out any consideration to the lack of spines on his back, and the king focused on his heartbeat as it hammered in and out of sync with the other’s.

“I understand the sentiment,” his partner whispered in response, and Arthur had to hold back what was either a laugh or a sob, morphing it into a hum on its way out.

You speak like him, too.

And so the king held his partner as tightly and tenderly as he would a lover, humming along to the song as the masquerade around him faded into nothing. There was nothing, nothing in his dream, but himself and his Lancelot as they spun around slowly.

He’s here. He’s here, I can feel it.

Arthur’s dream permeated his mind, overtaking his consciousness, and as the fourth song faded into oblivion, he finally let out the sigh he had been carrying all night.

“Lancelot…”

Two pairs of feet stilled as both parties realized what had just been said, and one final word jolted the king from his dream.

“A… Arthur?”

He was here all along.

#Smash speaks. #Arthurlot. #satbk #I DID IT I WROTE SOMETHING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. #No editing we write and post and pass out.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

My Rumsfeld and Cheney story.

***

I am in my late 20s and have been at my job in the White House for several months. Despite my age, I have been handed the task of helping to organize and arrange the administration’s new initiative to expand the humanities in America’s schools. I have an Ivy League education but I know the real reason I have the job. It is because my father has been lifelong friends with the President and is one of his closest advisors.

But being this is Washington, my father has enemies. At the top of the list are Donald Rumsfeld and his acolyte Dick Cheney — notorious for their scheming, ruthlessness and ways to grab power at the expense of others, and they are eyeing up putting a knife in my father’s back.

I am walking down the hallway. There are two things in my mind. The first is career preservation. If my father is forced out by them, then my career goes down the toilet.

But the main reason is because of something I have finally admitted to myself — that they are both incredibly attractive, and I want to submit to them.

I see Rumsfeld’s hatchet face of a Secretary. She buzzes. I wait for a few minutes, hearing him laughing on the phone. Finally, he has me sent in as he peers over some files and is writing something on a notepad, not paying me any attention, giving me a terse, “How may I help you? I’m not sure I can be of any service to your program.”

I shiver.

“Well, Mr. Rumsfeld,” I say. He perks up a bit hearing the deference in my voice. “I did not come specifically to ask you that. I came today to tell you...” I gulp. “I came to tell you that I know you are coming after my father. And I want to tell you that I know you are going to push him. And that my full loyalty and allegiance is with you.”

He stops writing and looks up.

“I see,” he says, with no emotion at all. “You see, I know my way around Washington. And this is something that I find highly dubious. Some kind of trick. So, you may go, even though you are correct about your father’s fate.”

I knew he would doubt me. So I have him a file.

“Well, in advance of that, I prepared a briefing document for you. It is a lot of information you may find useful to destroy him. Not that you need my assistance.”

He opens the file, adjusts his glasses, and chuckles.

“Well, I know some of this already. But this... I will say, that this could be useful in making my job that much easier.”

He leans back and steeples his fingers.

“Of course, I still do not quite believe you yet.” He swivels his chair. “Come here now and kneel before me. Denounce your father and your entire family and beg me to accept your loyalty.”

I pace around the desk and get on my knees.

“I denounce my father and an ashamed of my family’s name. Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I beg you. Please accept my allegiance to you. I promise I will serve you in any capacity that you wish, Sir.”

He lets out a Cheshire Cat smile and laughs.

“Very good. That is a good boy.” He then stands and beads to his belt. “Now there is one more chance to show your utmost loyalty. If you do this, and do this well... I will allow you the chance to serve me, as you put it.”

His pants and shorts drop with my assistance. He sits back down kingly, and I begin to take him in my mouth. His hand quickly moves to the back of my head, the weight of his Princeton class ring evident, as he steers me at the pace and depth he wants.

“That’s it. You’re starting to prove your worth to me. I assumed you were as worthless as your old man. But I can see what you think of me. Look up at me and tell me you worship me.”

I pant and look up at his smirking face.

“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I worship you like the superior person you are, and have done so since the first time I heard your name, Sir.”

He nods and forced my mouth over his cock again, now gripping my hair snugly and fucking my face. I am moaning as I suck away. Finally, I can hear him gasp a bit. Moaning, and I sense what is coming. He explodes all over my face, and then laughs.

“Let me look at you. The son of my arch-enemy, dripping in my cum.”

I let him look as he smiles at his trophy. Finally, he nods to the tissues, and tells me that I may clean myself up, he will be in touch, and I may take my leave. He then heads right back to his work, paying me no mind.

I head to the door and pause.

“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. May I please say something before I leave?”

He looks up, nods, and tells me to be quick.

I walk towards his desk and am opposite it. I kneel once again, and this time cup my hands like I am praying.

“Thank you so much for letting me suck your cock, Sir. I know how lucky I am to be able to breath the same air as you, let alone to know I can pleasure you. I hope I have shown my allegiance to you, Sir.”

He looks at me with a stern and serious gaze, pausing as he does.

“You recognized your place and chose wisely to admit it. You’ll be able to rise up the ranks here so long as you remember that you are beneath me and you live to do as I order. Now you may take your leave.”

***

It is a few weeks later and he has finally been in touch. 7 pm. That night. His estate.

I arrive promptly. A maid answers the door. I head him laughing, and I am not sure who. The maid tells him that the guest has arrived.

I walk in and am paralyzed with fear. Flanking him to one side is Dick Cheney. To the other is his wife, Lynne.

“Well, there he is! The ambitious young man who will be a big help to us that I told you about.”

Their mouths drop a bit. Dick just stares at me coldly.

“Surely this is a joke,” Lynne says, hoping it is not the case. Rumsfeld tells her it is not, and then directs me to tell them both what I think about my father, especially in comparison to him, and what I wish for out of my life.

“My father is a pathetic excuse of a man and not even fit to shine your shoes, Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. The only thing I wish for out of life is to be your faithful servant.”

They both stare at me incredulously, although evil grins cross both of their faces. Rumsfeld smiles widely and orders me to tell them what I did to serve him. So I told them how I sucked his cock and was lucky to wear his cum.

“Now, boy. I want you to know something. It is very hard in DC to find people you can trust and actually respect. Dick and Lynne are the only two people alive I call friends and consider as my equals. And that means that you serve them, too. Do you understand that?”

“Yes. I understand that I also serve Mr. and Mrs. Cheney.”

“Oh, let’s see about that,” Lynne says, grinning as she leans back in her chair.

Lynne and I have crossed paths a few times in my past. I am tasked with the humanities project. She is in charge of the agency that issues our humanities grants. She does not like that I am running this program and let me know about this and has done all she can to prevent me from enacting it unless it meets her goals.

I turn to her.

“Now, I told you that you did not deserve the job you have. You probably thought it is because of your age or who your father is. But that’s not the reason why.” She pauses. “Tell me if you agree with me... but the reason why is because you are an idiot.”

I hear Rumsfeld stifle a laugh. But I have no choice, even though I hesitate.

“You’re right. I’m an idiot, Mrs. Cheney.”

She laughs and nods.

“I am so glad that we cleared that up. I am sure that from now on, you will do as I say. I will tell you the programs I support and how much I want them supported financially. You are going to meet with me once a week with a draft of succinct reasons why you now support exactly as I want, which you will then defend to the president. Of course, I know you lack the intellectual capabilities to perform something like that up to my standards, so you can expect me to red mark your work with a pen like a kindergarten teacher.” She smirks. “And I am sure your father will be in the room, too.”

“Now, there is more than just that. One thing I want you to do — anytime you enter my office, you will show me proper respect by kissing my feet. Why don’t you do that now?”

I steel myself, press my lips to her shoes, and then thank her as she laughs as loud as she ever has in her life. She tells me to stand up and then ask her husband what he thinks.

He just smiles at me. Before I can even say anything, he starts to speak.

“I am so glad that you have recognized this about yourself. It is not easy to admit you are inferior. But I have always seen a lot of potential in you.”

He continues to smile.

“It won’t be too long until your father is back home in Wisconsin where he will be buried. Once that happens, and I inherit his job, I am going to have a need for a chief aide. Usually, this job is in an advisory capacity. But for your role, I envision it more fit for your capabilities. Having me coffee ready. Shining my shoes before any important meetings. Not saying anything beyond ‘Yes, Sir,’ and ‘No, Sir,’ unless I tell you to speak beyond that. Any sort of errand or task me or Lynne or Don want, it gets done. Got that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, your peers and people who have worked for your father for a very long time are going to see you hold my coat or wipe off my desk for me. What do you think they will say about this?”

“They’ll mock me, Sir.”

“They will. But deep down inside, they are going to be jealous because each and every single last one of them wants to be in the position you find yourself in — dominated by your superiors.” I can see Rumsfeld not in agreement. “Now, you will also perform the same tasks that Don had you do... only I will not be so gentle. And I will also make sure Don keeps you on his calendar as well so you can continue to serve him as well, being that he made you his toy before sharing you.”

“And don’t worry. I will still find the time and ways for you to correct your work so you can try to come up to even half of our level.”

I meekly say “Thank you.”

Rumsfeld stands up, as does Lynne. He slaps me on the back,

“Just think that your epitaph is going to read about how you were the faithful servant to the most powerful three people who ever lived.” He and Lynne head to the door. “Now get on your knees before Dick.”

I do, and he chuckles and heads to his belt.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

No Good(s)

@shinygoku gave me the teeniest nudge for another outtake from the Edward-in-WWI endless WIP monster, and, well, like a cat... I responded with a yowling startle.

Also, she specified 'angst' when given the choice of angst or fluff, so... well, I'd like to cackle evilly, but to be honest it's more hurt/comfort.

I haven't finished writing the messy train scene before, but suffice it to say that Edward has been struggling with full-line goods trains for like two chapters now.

But this scene was polished lovingly mostly because I do enjoy character-defining moments for OCs.

Honor and Minuet are Midland well-tanks—Kirtley's classes 690 and 780 respectively. Sequel is a class 6, Johnson's updated take on the 690/780 line. (x * y * z)

April 1916

"Where to put the train? Where to put the train? Damned if I know! It’s several tons of rotted cursed loss, ain’t it? —Thirty minutes! Thirty minutes we held the mainland train for you! And you didn’t hardly just miss it! This line is only seventy miles long, boy; where were you? Your manager told me what a rolling disaster you were, he told me we were fools to insist on keeping you here, but none of us thought it possible for an operational engine as utterly useless as this. Wasn’t the one bally thing you were made for was to go fast?—Ay! C’mon, Len; is there no way we can sell off any of this locally? Is there any salvaging anything from this?” Without waiting for a response, he furiously turned from the stationmaster back round to 125. “You may as well go and—ay, bloody Nora!” His eyes widened to see large, black, grimy tears streaking down the engine’s face.

This sort of thing is very far from unheard-of with steam engines, who, on the whole, are probably the most emotional type of machinery ever created.

As a manager, if you throw a mixture of raised voice and sarcasm their way, you'd be a fool not to expect it.

But Kane went absolutely white with horror.

"—are, are you—oh, blast it all!" He turned wildly round for human sanity and support, but all he found on the platform was the stone-faced driver and the gnomish stationmaster, the latter’s lined face currently in an extra-twisted grin at the new manager's discomfort. “W-Wa-a-a-ait. Did—did I just make a fifty-ton, fifty-mile-an-hour locomotive—"

"Cry, yes." The stationmaster's eyes glinted wickedly.

"There's no need for that," protested Kane, voice strangled. "Jesus Christ! Surely you're too old for this—how old are you, boy?"

"Mentally, sir," said the driver, with a tone of level deference and a glare of murder, "they are all, in fact, young children."

Kane managed to bristle and groan at once. "Enough of this! We'll just—I don't know—we'll magic another engine to take the Bountiful. I reckon that's all there is for it! Now stop that," he ordered the engine, still unable to look at him, then turning on his heel to twist his cap, and giving agitated pulls against his scalp that left his hair standing on edge. "I was just a bloke... running a mine... did I ask for this post..." He segued distractedly into a graphic rant about what he would do to the kaiser if he ever got his hands on him as he paced the platform.

125 had already stopped before so ordered, for he had been about as confused and horrified by the manager as the manager had been by him. If he'd deserved to be so harangued, and he did not disagree that he had, then it was baffling that the least notice, let alone abrupt cessation, should be taken of some silent tears.

He did look a right smoking, sooty, silly mess, though, and was more ashamed than ever. That's just when Honor pulled up beside him with a soft whistle.

She smiled bracingly at the other engine before saying, "Excuse me, sir. I think I can help. If I may—?"

"Please," said Kane, in the sarcasm of despair.

"Why don't my sisters and I switch jobs with 125 for these three days a week? We're quite experienced with short-distance goods, and we could station ourselves to divide the line into parts, you know. We'd make the time, sir. 125 mightn't be able to get quite as much done as the three of us do as a team, but he'd keep the yard going, and I think between us all we'd manage."

"Yeah, the yard can go hang. I need my damn train in." Kane still had a zombielike expression as he gazed at McGinty with dead eyes. "Can you shunt, with an engine like this?"

"Oh, I've heard of tender engines being turned shunter, so it must be possible. He's pretty small."

"Wonderful," said Kane, monotone. "You're speaking on behalf of your sisters, girl? The sassy one too? Minutiae or whoever the hell she is."

"Oh, yes, sir, Minuet and Sequel will be glad to help." Under Honor's kindly tone was a vein of grim matriarchal steel.

"Right. And you, boy?"

125 blinked. “Y—Yes, sir."

"I really do not understand passenger engines," said Mr. Kane, to no one in particular. He stalked back to the retreat of the station house, uncovered hair frightfully askew.

125, trying with limited success not to sniffle, looked at Honor gratefully.

"I hope you don't think I was trying to steal your train," she began.

"No, indeed! It needed to be stolen.” (Sniffle.) “Thank you."

"Don't fret," she smiled. "I've lost perishables a couple times myself. It happens, if you're at it long enough."

125 gave a choked laugh. "One month?"

"Oh, you are an early bloomer," agreed Honor, with a wink. "But you're hardly to be blamed, if you're not suited for express freight. So keep a good thought. You're all right with ballast and coal runs, and they're no joke, actually. And I think you'll like shunting.”

“I haven’t done any before, you know.”

“That’s half of why I think you’ll like it.” Honor spoke very dryly, though she still smiled. “Give it forty years and then it gets old.”

#mr. kane i advise you scarper #before you are run out of town on a rail #you are a complex character but maybe i shouldn't have introduced you to the world by making edward cry *shrug* #among this crowd it might be hard to come back from that one #ttte fic #fic snippets #ttte edward #ttte oc #ttte oc: honor #ttte: wwi #(WIP still in search of a title) #ttte #this is ttte #jobeywrites

[xeo-kunsatan]

MonsterOlympics One Shot (+13) Part 3.

A new morning have been arrived at Monster Maze High.

Sunday 9:47 AM

Room 69

Betrayus was waking up with Muriel and a white haired human woman?

Betrayus:*Yawns* Morning Sweeties~

Muriel: Good morning Moonlight~

Beryl: Hmm~ Morning~

Betrayus: *takes air* Shit that was a crazy night yesterday... I didn't know that you were that good in this~

Muriel: Yeah dude, you were a beast last night~

Beryl: Tsk what are you talking about? You guys are incredible~

Suddenly that human transformed their body into their original form.

Beryl Marjorie

Boss of Jewels Mafia

Age: 125

Gender: Non Binary

Species: Shapeshifter/Wereleopard (Hybrid)

Beryl: And tell me~ are you agree with this payment method?

Muriel: Ohh~ it's the best and a big honor~

Betrayus: Oh Yeah~ That human disguise was a good idea, as you know i can't give myself this adventures with humans, because you know.. Ka-Boom!

Muriel: i can give myself freely this adventures with humans but i don't want to do it if I'm not next to my Moonlight~

Beryl: Awww~ it was a pleasure to make business with you too, now you have a new monetary support from my part.

Betrayus: and it's a pleasure to have your support, Thank you so much Ms Beryl.

Muriel: Come here Everytime you want it.

Beryl: See ya guys *puts in their clothing and leaves*

Beryl have left the room, to then go to a limousine waiting for them.

Note: Beryl is the Boss of a Mafia but they mostly prefers to use their money to support places which needs monetary help.

At the School Cafeteria.

The students where still feel a little tense after that fight from yesterday, mostly of them were still feeling the hurtful words from Manny, Specially Skeebo.

Sir C and Roxy went to them to give them at least good news for them.

Sir C: *with a speaker* Uhum Uhum, A-Attention Please Students! *Sneezes* I know you have felt stressed since yesterday butbi have good news for you.

Blinky: Good News my Balls!..

Roxy: Silence! C'mon Old man put more emotion in this..

Sir C: You're right Rox, The Hot Springs are Finally open for you, so you will have a better Sunday!.

All:......*Runs off to the Hot Springs*

Sir C: Wow, that worked so well..

Roxy: you see~

The students have run away to test the new hot springs

Note: there were 5 Hot Springs Rooms: Girls Room, Boys Room , Man Staff, Woman Staff and for some reason a secret one connected with both Staff rooms (Roxy's idea).

Boys Room

The boys were enyoing their new hot spring room, Skeebo still upset went to a shower next to a really worried Bradley.

Bradley: Foxy.. are you.. alright?..

Skeebo: *sighs*......

Bradley: C'mon you can tell me..

Skeebo: That stupid.. how he dares to make fun of me!!?? just because i have no family doesn't give him the rights to talk shit to me me! Nor even for the school!

Bradley: Don't let that affect you, you have a family here.

Skeebo: But not a biological!

Bradley: !!!!....

Skeebo: My brother left me, he was supposed to take care of me, we were supposed to be family.. and he still left me... For what!? To start a band and create a new family while I was dying of hungry and Cold!!!..

Bradley: Excuse me.. i know what are you feeling but i should remember you that my dad taked you to avoid that....

Skeebo: But what if he wouldn't taked me? Huh?...

Bradley: that's a Good point... *Sighs*.. Skeebo, please family it's not based by blood lines, it's based in the people who loves you and support you as you are..

Skeebo: *turns off*... You said that because you have your own parents and sister who loves you.

Bradley: Skeebo Please... What if he had a reason to left you?

Skeebo: *Hits Bradley* A Reason to Abandon me!!??

Bradley:!!!!!!..... *Trembling*

Skeebo: *reacts* Oh... No...

Bradley:*steps back*..

Skeebo: I-i-i am s-s-so sorry SugarBun!!.. I-i didn't mean to hurt you....

Bradley:*slaps Skeebo* Don't ever call me SugarBun!..*sightly sobs*... This time you Cross the line.. i thought you already understood about that you already have a family... But im wrong...

Skeebo: No Bradley please.. you are not wrong... I am sorry!...

Bradley: I Know you are really mad and hurted but that doesn't mean you can take avenge of me!

Skeebo: I-i know.. i really so sorry...

Bradley: *sobs* Fuck Off!! *Turns into a Bat and flies off crying*...

Skeebo: Bradley... *Sobs in silence* N-No... What a dumb i am... *Sighs*...

Skeebo was sobbing in the shower while the others would feel his silent lament.

Spiral: Ok Those 2 fighting? That's new

Pacster: Not really, they rarely have fights, and when they have them, they always fix the things and They reconcile with.. you know..

Blinky: I Know but this time it's harder..

Inky: yeah...

Clyde: Are they would be okay?...

Skeebo: Can you please SHUT THE FUCK UP!!?? THIS IS NOT YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!!.

Farley: Ok he is really mad...

Farren: And that's a Mad Fox..

Farid: Oww~ they were such a good couple~...

After the shower, Skeebo left to his dorm which he shares with Bradley, discovering that Bradley wasn't there..

Skeebo: *Sighs and jumps to his bed*... Bradley... If i could... Wait.. *takes his phone to make a important call* Thanks to her i got him.. i hope she can help me to bring him back..

Skeebo called an already known number which helped him as many creatures.

C.A Cupid

Daughter of Eros

Age: ???

Gender: Female

Species: Cherub.

(No, it's not my cupid from Pmatga, she is from from MH/EAH)

C.A Cupid: Greetings, anything your heart wants to share?~

Skeebo: Hello Cupid.. i need your advices one more time but this time to bring my love back..

C.A Cupid: Huh, i think i remember your voice, Long time~ What happened?

Skeebo: You see...My Boyfriend and me had a fight but this time i messed up the things in the really awful way, he surely doesn't want me next to him anymore.. i didn't mean to hurt him..

C.A Cupid: Oh dear.. I'm sorry to hear that.. don't worry i know how i help you.

Skeebo: Please..

C.A Cupid: First give him some time to relax, and then Show him that you feel really bad for hurting him and for it, like give him something really special for you 2 since many years, the reason why you are together.

Skeebo: Something Special for us since many years.. alright I got it, thank you Cupid.

C.A Cupid: Always to help, thanks for calling for my advices.

The Call ended, and Skeebo was looking for an special thing to fix the things with Bradley.

Skeebo: Where is it?..

Betrayus: Where is what?~

Skeebo: Eh!?

Betrayus's stare started to hypnotize Skeebo to make him fall sleep and then take him secretly to a unknown place.

Meanwhile in Monster High.

Miss Bloodgood have asked her students to join a reunion.

Ms Bloodgood: Dear Students, I summoned you in this reunion to discuss about what we will do in the MonsterOlympics Event, the first thing is that all of you most behave and respect your opponents.

Lagoona Blue

Daughter of the Sea Monster.

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Species: Sea monster (Saltwater)

Lagoona: Ohh~ i really felt bad about them...

Ms Bloodgood: Me too Lagoona *sighs* Mostly of The Monster Maze High students have different and difficult situations at mostly of yours, their school is where they live.

Frankie: You mean, their school is their only home

Ms Bloodgood: That's right.

Deuce Gorgon

Son of Medusa

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Species: Gorgon

Deuce: Even Knowing that i can't believe that Manny said that..

Draculaura: Me either...

Holt: Well in certain part he is right

All: Holt!!!

Holt: ok ok.. sorry

Clawd: Just Great.. Now thanks to Manny they already have a bad image of us as the mean ones...

Gillington Webber

Son of the River monster

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Species: Sea Monster (sweet water)

Gil: *Sighs* Things will get so tense during the competency...

Frankie: This can't be like this, we most show them that as we accept us independent of our differences, we accept them too even if they are from other school.

Ms Bloodgood: Frankie is right, the next week the Event will begin, even if we are competing against them we most show them fellowship and support.

Frankie: All agree with you Headless Mistress!

The Reunion finished and everyone was free to leave to their classes.

Toralei and her gang was walking around the school noticing that almost every monster was watching her and whispering to eachother.

Toralei: Pfff, what did I do this time?~

Cleo: Oh My Ra, I didn't know you were like that Toralei?~

Toralei: Mew?~ What are you talking about?.

Cleo: Didn't you check out your phone? *Leaves mocking*

Spectra Vondeirgeist

Daughter of the ghosts

Age: ???

Gender: Female

Species: Ghost.

Spectra: I Hoope you enjoy this unexpected stooory~ *flying around*

Toralei: Huh!?

Toralei Checked out her phone to visit Spectra's Blog finding the surprised of that Spectra made a blog about her meeting with Farley, pointing them as an unexpected couple between a dog and a cat.

Toralei: Meww! No!!

As well her, Farley found out the gossip in the same Blog.

Farley: Woofy Shit!!

<×/////////////////////////////////////////×>

Meanwhile In a dark place, Skeebo waked up to notice that he was tied up.

Skeebo: What The!!??...

Betrayus: You Were a really really bad Fox...

Skeebo: Mr Betrayus!?... I-i didn't mean to hurt your son..

Betrayus: But you did it.. oww~ what a shame I have to do this...

Skeebo: .......*sighs as he sobs In silence*... I'm sorry... I really wanted to fix up the things with him, with effort and heart.. as I promised.. but I guess I most pay for not appreciate what I already had... Go ahead Mr Betrayus..

Betrayus:... Wise decision~

Betrayus hold up a big blade ready to end with the Fox's life to then....

To be Continued.

#pacman and the ghostly adventures #pmatga #monster maze high #monstermaze high #monster high #MH #frankie stein #Draculaura #deuce gorgon #Spectra #lagoona blue

[jokytch]

"excuse me sir this is my emotional support cat"

#hi ghost trick fandom i love the game so much #ghost trick #yomiel #sissel #myartse

[sarahwatchesthings]

Excuse me, sir, that's my emotional support ugly cat.

#natsume yuujinchou

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Dazai/Reader piece for the lovely @ramannnn​. It’s been a very Dazai-centric few days, but... I think it fits the theme well, considering how *controlling* I got to make him, here. I can only hope everyone else is having as much fun as he is, honestly. 

TW: Dub-Con, Explicit Material, Groping/Rough Sex, Gun Violence, Blood, Death, and Slight Emotional/Physical Abuse. 

Word Count: 5.2k

Dazai still wasn’t used to it, he guessed.

Relationships were a foreign concept to him, intimacy as alien as an unknown creature and affection just as strange. Hell, gestures as simple as holding hands made him flinch and pull back, even when he knew it was only you, the girlfriend who could main him about as brutally as a house-cat. It’d taken him two months to get used to cuddling, another three weeks to actually initiate a session, and he still had to think over his actions strategically while going in for a kiss, if only to keep from embarrassing himself. You were patient with him, sickeningly so, smiling and letting it go whenever he failed to reciprocate, always asking before trying something new. You didn’t have to be told that this was his first relationship, his first real relationship, and you didn’t make him say it. It was something Dazai loved about you, why he’d bothered with making himself seem vulnerable in the first place.

The feelings were new, too. You could still make his heart skip a beat by looking at him the right way, the air around you always too thin, his head in a constant state of spinning, regardless of how composed he presented himself as. It was embarrassing, at first, a lovesick spell more fitting of someone Atsushi’s age than his own, but you were great about that, too. Dazai was neglected when it came to love, simultaneously chasing after your approval and refusing to accept it, but you nursed him on small displays and gentle touches until he could stomach entire dates. He wondered if you knew you were doing it, sometimes, if you’d been conscious of the effect you had on him. Stuck on the thought, Dazai let his attention stray from the case-file in front of him, thankful he’d taken it down to Uzumaki before starting.

It would’ve been a pain to walk down from the Agency every time he thought of you, considering how often his paranoia tended to flare up. Kunikida never seemed pleased by the honest reasons behind his absence, either.

He relaxed as soon as he found you, helping a customer at the end of the cafe’s bar. It was only natural that you worked so close to him, managing to infiltrate your way into the fringes of Dazai’s life. He liked being able to find you, too, even if he was rarely in the office most days. Seeing you was like a tranquilizer to him, a narcotic, Dazai getting… twitchy whenever you weren’t around. Still, he couldn’t help but wince when he got a better look at the person you were chatting with, the conversation having gone on too long for you to only be taking his order. The jealousy was fresh every time he felt it, restored and more powerful than any time before, blunt nails soon tearing through the thin folder as he watched you close your eyes and laugh at something the man said.

You shouldn’t be doing that. He didn’t like it when you did that.

Without a hint of hesitation, he pushed himself up, not thinking as he moved towards you. Your attention from the interaction at hand didn’t waver, letting Dazai approach without notice, his arms wrapping around your waist and earning a small yelp, quickly covered up by a breathy giggle. Reflexively, you leaned into him, not looking away from the customer. You two had gone through this too many times for that.

“I’m sorry… he can be clingy sometimes,” You said, the remark equal parts an excuse and a tease. He felt you make a weak attempt to pry him off, an elbow jabbing at his rib cage, but Dazai only buried his head in the crook of your neck, letting his teeth graze over your skin as you sighed, exasperated. “Will that be all, sir? I can get you something on the house for the interruption.”

Dazai perked up just enough to stare at your customer through his bangs, narrowing his eyes just enough to get his point across. Whether or not he noticed, Dazai wasn’t sure, but the man squirmed nervously, gaze dropping to the floor as he fiddled with the lid of his cup, the disposable kind. Good. It meant the bastard wouldn’t be staying very long. “I… I should be going,” He mumbled, half-heartedly throwing a few bills on the countertop. “See you tomorrow, (Y/n).”

He didn’t speak until the man had gotten up, forgetting his drink as he headed towards the door. Even then, Dazai found a tender spot on your neck and bit down before you realized what he was doing, his teeth managing to sink in enough to leave a mark, only separating when you shoved him back. You were scowling when you turned to face him, barely suppressing a grin, trying to look hurt as you rubbed at the forming bruise. “You a real creep, you know that? I’m going to get fired one of these days, and all because you keep harassing my regulars.”

“Wonderful,” Dazai replied, pausing to peck at your lips. It was a hasty kiss, but there would be more later. He’d make sure of that. “You can be my adorable little housewife, and I’ll be the loving husband you brag about ever time you see your old coworkers. That sounds dreamy, doesn’t it?” He sighed loudly, overdramatically, closing his eyes and slumping against your chest. “Why don’t you quit now, sooner than later? We’ll get married this afternoon, I’ll invite Chuuya to the ceremony, and you’ll be a widow by the time the sun rises! It’s better not to draw these things out.”

“Oh, no, you’re not allowed to die after you trick me into marrying you. Chuuya or no Chuuya.” It was tentative, but soon enough, you were carding through his hair, feeding into his neediness. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Dazai pursed his lips, thinking before answering. “Tomorrow. The Agency’s trying to drain me dry, this week. Will dinner and a movie be enough to buy your forgiveness?”

You took the news with a sober nod, but he didn’t miss the heat that rose to your cheeks, the red tint you suddenly couldn’t hide. “I want… something else, too,” You admitted, the confession not needing an explanation. Your ‘purity’, for lack of a better way to put it, was something Dazai was well aware of, and it made sense. You were as innocent as they came, doe-eyed and naive, even if you tried to hide it. Just asking to be defiled, really. He couldn’t help himself, his hold on you tightening ever-so-slightly, clueing you in much too soon. “You’re a pervert.” With a huff, you crossed your arms, wedging a barrier between you and the offending aggressor, despite said aggressor’s complaints. “Don’t make me regret it, I’m doing this because I love you. I don’t want it to turn out like--”

“It won’t.” He was quick to reassure you, knowing just the right way to cup your cheek, straightening his back and meeting your eyes in a way that always made you more agreeable. This time was no exception, a shy simper returning as you melted into the support. “And you won’t regret it, either. I promise.”

There was a short silence, his words rolling over in your head. Your answer was a painstakingly slow one, but the bright, beaming smile that accompanied the wait more than worth it.

“I trust you, Dazai.”

~

Yuri. That was what the man went by. Dazai hadn’t bothered with a surname.

A warehouse worker, night-shift. He’d stop by Uzumaki before every shift for a black coffee, and he’d always ask for you, leaving without making a purchase if he couldn’t get his favorite barista. He didn’t have friends, his family lived overseas, and from what Dazai could tell, he was a coward no one would miss when he finally bit the bullet. If anything, Dazai was doing the leech a favor. He was doing you a favor.

The fewer inconveniences you had, the better.

The less competition he had, the better.

‘Yuri’ was already trembling by the time Dazai’s pistol had been drawn, the barrel forced into his mouth when he tried to scream. It hadn’t done much to muffle the sound, but the sharp click of the weapon’s safety switching off had his breath hitching, any sounds turning into high-pitched squeaks and cries when he realized exactly what kind of situation this was. Dazai wasn’t sure how he hadn’t caught on earlier. Hidden between packed-together buildings, the sky dark and the city fast asleep… not much good can come under those conditions, but luckily, ‘good’ was the last thing Dazai had in mind.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Some of the tensions in Yuri’s shoulders dissolved, a mistake quickly corrected by a tap of the front-sight against the roof of his mouth, Dazai’s finger sliding onto the trigger. “It doesn’t matter to me, whether you live or die. I’d let you go, if I had a choice. It’s less clean-up.”

Yuri tensed up, glancing at Dazai’s hand, at the grip of the Desert Eagle currently half-way down his throat. As if to ask what the catch was. 

He obliged swiftly.

“It doesn’t matter to me, but I don’t like people touching things that don’t belong to them,” He explained, not bothering to keep the venom out of his voice. “And you’ve been doing just that, haven’t you? Coming into a place you don’t belong, talking to someone who’s not yours, and acting like you have the right to step onto someone else’s territory. It’s disgusting. I should’ve ended your pathetic life months ago. You’re just lucky I’m so nice.”

In a confident, practiced movement, he brought the Desert Eagle out of Yuri’s mouth, letting the worn metal scrape against his lips, tearing at the thin skin. Before Yuri could move, the muzzle was shoved into his solar plexus, bruising the underside of his ribs. “Talk,” Dazai commanded, shoving his free hand into his coat’s pocket. “Make me believe you won’t fuck-up again.”

Opening his mouth, Yuri stuttered incoherently, swallowing and mumbling and getting on Dazai’s nerves before spitting out something intelligent. “I… I’m sorry! (Y/n) is nice, we’re friends, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend!”

“You’re friends, or you didn’t know she was taken?” Dazai paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’d keep my story straight, if I were you. Considering the stakes and all.”

“I’m sorry!” He was yelling, now, eyes shut and voice shaking. There was an attempt to grab the handgun, but Dazai was able to discharge his attempts at bravery with a sharp thrust and a sigh, the ordeal turning out to be much duller than Dazai thought it would be. “I won’t go near her, I swear! Just… just let me go, and you’ll never see me again. I won’t even think about your girl. You two can have your weird-ass romance, I won’t be a problem!”

Dazai smiled, unable to stop himself. “You’re not a negotiator, are you, Yuri?”

Yuri only shook his head, daring to open his eyes, almost relieved at the slight softness in Dazai’s tone. That might’ve been what did it. He was moving before he realized it, slamming the grip into Yuri cheek with the force of a grown man’s weight, the suddenness and the power behind the blow knocking him to the ground, Yuri hardly even tried to push himself up. He made the mistake of looking back at Dazai, of wasting those precious seconds, but their eyes never met. His silencer muffled the gunshots, muted ticks the only sound to signal the end of Yuri’s life. There wasn’t a scream, no fighting or struggling or pleading, just a labored breath and a splatter of blood on Dazai’s shoes.

Still, that didn’t stop Dazai from emptying the rest of his magazine into Yuri’s head. If only to save such a pitiful creature the pain of having to go on for another hour.

~

You didn’t think you’d ever been this nervous before.

Calming down was a fruitless effort. You’d tried to tell yourself that you were an adult, that Dazai loved you and didn’t care, but… just the thought had you buzzing. It was a palpable anxiety, something that had you walking unevenly and dropping mugs while you cleaned them and laughing when anyone said anything because everything was funny. Your coworkers took notice, but they were dissuaded with an excuse and a few comments about an ‘off-mood’, and luckily, your regulars hadn’t been around enough lately to witness your odd behavior.

They hadn’t been around at all lately, really. You made a mental note of that. You’d have to check in on them, soon, if you remembered to. It was hard not to worry, considering how many frequent visitors had disappeared so abruptly, recently.

Still, Dazai was a source of comfort. You were a timid person, closed-off despite how badly you tried not to be, but you really did love Dazai. He was persistent, consistent, and just as unused to affection as you were, albeit on the opposite side of the spectrum. That might’ve been why you trusted him so much. He was like you, in a way, but so different at the same time. Just as closed-off, but with all the confidence you lacked.

Without thinking, you let your mouth fall open, mumbling the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you.”

Dazai hummed as he glanced over his shoulder, sending you a questioning look as he unlocked the entrance to his flat. It took him a second to understand, but you didn’t have the nerve to explain yourself, letting Dazai come to his own conclusion. It must’ve been a good one, though, judging by the way he pulled you a little closer as the door fell open, kissing your temple and tugging you through the threshold. “Don’t thank me yet,” He chuckled, softly. “We’re just getting to the fun part.”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant. As soon as you’d stepped into his apartment, his mouth was on yours, the kiss as overeager as it was underplanned. No attempt was made to ease you into it, no trace of reluctance or consideration, only his arms wrapping around your midriff and your back hitting the wall, crashing into it as he found the first available surface to pin you to. Keeping up with him was a futile effort, but you tried anyway, pushing your lips against his and nipping at the tip of his tongue playfully when he tried to deepen the gesture. You could feel it as he smirked, pulling away and focusing his kisses on your jaw, hands falling to your thighs and lifting you off the ground without a trace of effort. It was easy to forget how strong he was, but as Dazai slotted himself against you, far closer than you’d ever let anyone else get, it slipped your mind to tease him about it, too.

Instead, you let out a cracked laugh, one that turned into a small whimper as his teeth brushed against your jugular. “It… this feels kinda sudden, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all,” He said, before choosing a spot and biting. This wasn’t your first hickey, this wasn’t the first hickey he’d given you, but this was the first time Dazai’d been so violent about it, sucking viciously until a purple, bruised mark covered the area. Hot, open-mouthed kisses traveled downward, each a little more primal than the last, only pausing when he hit the unwelcoming fabric of your shirt, the annoyance eliciting something near a growl. He dropped you in a heartbeat, leaving you to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him as he all-but tore at the offending clothing, not seeming to care what he ripped. “You wanted this, too. It’s a natural progression.”

A natural progression. That’s what it was, a natural progression.

This was the next step.

So, you didn’t complain as your shirt fell away, his coat dropping to the floor not long after. Your whimpers and yelps turned to low, muffled moans as he went on, the pain fading into a light sting. You pulled at his collar, too, beginning to undo the first button with one hand while the other remained uselessly draped over his shoulders, but if Dazai noticed your work, he didn’t see it necessary to show it. He occupied himself with pushing up your skirt, letting it pool around your hips as he groped at whatever he could reach, only growing more aggressive as you writhed against him. It was only as he slipped a finger under the edge of your panties that you spoke up.

“Bed.” Your voice cracked, the whisper coming out helplessly. “Please, Dazai.”

Again, he didn’t waste time. You were pulled wall from the wall one moment and thrown onto a plush surface the next, the terrain suddenly strange, unfamiliar. You couldn’t help but freeze-up, but Dazai wasn’t hit by the same affliction, kneeling between your legs and continuing where he’d left off. Your panties were discarded in a matter of seconds, leaving you partially dressed and unprepared when thin fingers started to run over the length of your slit, his thumb hardly making contact with your clit, testing the waters. He slid two digits in as soon as he decided your wet enough, pausing for a moment.

“You’ve touched yourself, haven’t you?” The question is punctuated by a curl, his fingertips rubbing against slick walls. The stretch made you want to whine, but you bit your lip instead, nodding as he scissored you open. You balled your fists around the sheets, closing your eyes as Dazai moved lower. “Naughty girl. You won’t be allowed to do that, anymore.”

Before you could wonder what he was doing, his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking just harshly enough to have you grinding against his face. Your thighs went stiff, then twitched, attempting to clench around Dazai’s head, but he held them open easily, his other arm too busy finger-fucking you to do much else. You almost got used to it, almost, but the moment Dazai’s fingers hit something spongy and soft, your composure was done-for. Pressure pressed down on your chest, the air choking you, but Dazai never let-up, never relaxing, not until you were clenching and squealing, slicking building up and flowing over his fingers, Dazai only slowing down to pull out.

You thought he would kiss you, or smile, or say something.

Instead, he began to undress.

You watch in anticipation as a layer fell to the floor, then another, a sensation between excitement and dread forming a tight ball in your throat. This wasn’t how you pictured it happening. This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. It was supposed to be more… romantic, less passionate and more loving. You thought it’d feel more loving. This wasn’t how you pictured it, but you couldn’t make yourself say something.

So, you laid back and shut your eyes again. You hoped he would notice.

The kiss came too late, but you accepted it nonetheless, running your hands through his hair as his lips brushed against yours. It was conciliatory, if anything, simultaneously more apologetic than it should've been but less than it needed to be, for whatever reason. “Don’t worry,” He reassured, lining himself up with your entrance. “I’ll be gentle.”

But he wasn’t. As soon as he was inside you, all pretenses of self-control abandoned him, Dazai bucking into your wildly and forcefully. The ache was worse, eliciting something near a sob, but it was all you could do to hold onto him and let it happen. His hips rolled against yours without any regard for the way his cock couldn’t fit inside of you, determined to go deeper, faster, harder with every movement. You found yourself burying your face in his chest unconsciously, grabbing anything you could reach, just trying to find a center before Dazai ripped you away from it, again. Distantly, you could hear the bed creaking, wet sounds echoing off the walls, but his voice was close enough to overtake it all.

“Mine, mine,” He repeated, the single word turning into a mantra. The head of his cock pushes against your cervix, Dazai intent on fitting you to his shape or tearing you open in the process. “None of them can have you. You don’t belong to anyone else.”

You tried to speak, but the sound was cracked, hollow. “I don’t--”

“None of them can have you.” He pushed himself away from you, fucking into your with twice the strength and half the consideration. Still, a coil forms in the pit of your stomach, something tense and hazy taking root in your mind and refusing to leave. Something you didn’t know if you liked. “Say it. You belong to me.”

You obeyed. You weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t. “I-I only… I only belong to you!”

Your orgasm was less earned and more torn from you, crashing down with the same delicacy of the man who’d caused it. It was suffocating, euphoric, the world going white as you forgot how to inhale, Dazai’s mouth slotting itself against yours. So enraptured in holding you, he hardly remembered to pull out, your cunt clamping down on him like a vice. Still, you felt it as cum splattered across your thighs, warm and sticky, as repulsive as it was disgustingly comforting.

Neither of you said anything, heavy pants and enduring whines monopolizing the conversation. But, after a long minute, Dazai’s attention re-focused, his eyes meeting yours and a small grin spreading across his features. His hand came up to cup your cheek and willingly, you melted into it, relaxing as he wiped the stray tears from your skin.

You only smiled back, wondering when you’d started crying.

~

“I’m just worried about you.”

You could’ve groaned at the familiar sentiment, hardly gathering the energy to glance up from the order you were punching into the register. Lucy was a new recruit, still green around the edges and not quite a skilled communicator, but you could appreciate her for what she was… most days. It was just the two of you on staff, at the moment, only a handful of customers in the cafe at such an ungodly time in the morning, leaving her with plenty of time to voice her oh-so-persistent concerns. It was sweet, honestly, a newer girl becoming so protective of her coworkers so quickly, and you couldn’t help but feel the same way, even if the age gap between you two was barely two years long. She wanted the best for you, and you for her.

So, you let her go on.

“Osamu’s not a nice guy.” Her voice was impassioned, just as genuine as the muffled curses she let out as a few drops of steamed milk spilled over the side of the cappuccino she was working on. “You should hear the stories Atsushi tells about him, they’re not… they’re not good. It’s hard to listen, sometimes. Especially when it’s so easy to tell he’s got the poor boy wrapped around his finger.”

“I’d hate to say it, but ‘they’re not good’ isn’t exactly compelling evidence,” You reasoned, biting the inside of your cheek. Your legs were still sore, your back aching, but you ignored the pain. That was normal, wasn’t it? For the first time, at least. “He’s a hard man to warm up to. It took me a while, too, but he’s really not as bad as he seems. Playful, but nice. With me, at least.”

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. “It’s the way he looks at you. I don’t like it,” She explained, a little too bluntly for the comment not to irk you. “Sometimes he’ll just sit and stare at you, and it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. He’s always asking the other girls which regulars you’re talking to, or for a copy of your schedule, and he gets so rude when we refuse. It’s not playful, it’s obsessive. Like he doesn’t trust you.”

You hoped she didn’t notice the way you frowned at her last comment. “He… he asks about my regulars?”

“Oh, all the time.” The words were too tired to be rehearsed. Not angry, annoyed. Like she was used to it. “A few of us slip up, occasionally, but nobody ever tells him anything. That doesn’t stop him from tryin’, though, nearly every time you’re not working. He tries to say it’s for the Agency, like half our customers aren’t detectives.”

Now, that got you to pause, your fingers slipping as you tried to focus on the task at hand. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Please let me know if he does it again.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” She mumbled, stopping to wave her free hand in some abstract, dismissive gesture. “Trust me. Or talk to him, do something. I just don’t want to see you cry over someone like him.”

It was hard not to smile, to thank her, even if you weren’t sure how you felt just yet. It would’ve been a lie to say you’d never had your doubts, but hearing someone else voice them was an entirely new experience, one you couldn’t say you were used to. You wanted to say that, you wanted to tell Lucy how much you appreciated her, you wanted to ask if there were supposed to be bruises on your hips, but as soon as the words made it to your tongue, they were swallowed back down, your mouth refusing to let them escape. It felt wrong, but staying quiet felt terrible.

You did the best you could, considering.

“You don’t have to answer, but…” You trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it. “Do the people you love ever start to scare you?”

For a second, she didn’t respond. She pursed her lips, something between surprise and concern coming across her expression, both emotions disappearing in an instant. A reply came eventually, tender and reassuring, but you had your answer the moment she failed to meet your eyes.

You needed to talk to Dazai.

~

Dumbfounded didn’t seem like the right word.

Shock would’ve been better, maybe. Dazai didn’t know how to react, flinching and laughing half-heartedly, the two acts mixing into something painful to see. He only grew more sure of your discomfort as you looked away, keeping your eyes on his walls or his rug or anything but the man who owned them, despite failing to pull away as he moved a little closer, closing the space between you. It wasn’t hard, the furniture in Dazai’s apartment as sparse as it was scattered, the loveseat no exclusion to his rule. He still hadn’t adjusted to having guests, even with all the time you’d spent together.

“Could… could you run that by me again?” He asked, the question more a whisper than a demand. “I don’t think I understand.”

“I just think it would be a good idea if we… took a break.” You were nothing short of meek, defenseless, curling into yourself as you spoke. “You haven’t been acting like yourself, lately, and everyone seems so worried about me. I don’t really think--”

“It’s those girls, isn’t it?” Dazai didn’t try to ease you into it, he couldn’t ease you into it, he was too angry to ease himself into it. That what it was, anger. Dark, ugly anger, potent enough to make him pull you closer, a hand on your knee and the other around your hips, refusing to budge when you nudged at his arm. “I knew they were against me, against us. You can’t trust anything they say, especially if it’s about me. They don’t want you to be happy--”

You cut him off abruptly, catching Dazai off-guard. Even if your actions didn’t reflect your violent tone. “They don’t want me to be with someone who can’t stand making me happy,” You retorted, digging your nails into his arm, this attempt to distance him more sincere than the last. “You don’t have to pretend you care about me, anymore, I get it. I’m some… thing, to you, that’s why you’re always checking in on me, why you’re always acting like I can’t handle myself. It’s fine, or, it was fine, I mean.” You sighed, shaking your head. Confliction wasn’t a good look for you, Dazai realized. He didn’t like that look on you. “I don’t want to do this anymore. You got my virginity, you win. I just want to go home, Dazai.”

He was silent, for a moment, as motionless as he was stiff. “You can’t do that.”

“I don’t care.” This time, you tried to get up, to pull yourself away from him, only gritting your teeth when he dragged you back down. “Let me go. I’ll call the police, if I have to.”

“And I’ll break your fingers before you can find a phone.”

You snapped around, but you didn’t have time to respond, not before you were thrown against the couch-cushions, Dazai straddling you reflexively, acting on instinct. He didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t lose you, not after how far you’d come, how beautifully you’d opened up for him. You fought back, weak and misguided, but Dazai only had to shift his weight onto your diaphragm to stifle your rebellion, the hands soon wrapped around your neck more of a flourish than a safety-measure. You tried to grab at his wrists, but the resistance wasn’t forceful.

Still, Dazai tightened his hold, pressing up into the bottom of your chin. If only to hear that whimper he doubted you show him willingly, anytime soon.

“I thought this might happen. Chuuya used to call me crazy for planning ahead, but this always happens.” His laugh was genuine, this time, light and airy and genuine. Dazai could feel you go still under him, your stare burning holes through his skin, but he didn’t care. What you were feeling was secondary, as long as you were directing those feelings towards him. “People get inside your head, and they turn you against me. It doesn’t matter how many parasites I get rid of, there’s always a dozen there to take their place. You know how annoying that is, don’t you?”

This time, you were the speechless one, swallowing thickly before answering. “You’re insane--”

“There’s only one thing left to do, when keeping the bugs away doesn’t seem to help.” The smile that spread across his lips must’ve been wicked, because you began to struggle once again, kicking and thrashing and fighting, but Dazai was far from caring. He bent down slowly, letting you bite at his lips, not caring when blood was drawn. The metallic taste spread across your lips as he kissed you, only making him all the more keen to remind you why you belong to him, in the first place.

“I’ll just have to keep you away from all those bad influences, won’t I?”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere prompt #yandere imagines #yandere scenerio #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #bungou stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagines #yandere bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #yandere bsd #yandere bsd imagines #yandere dazai #dazai x reader #yandere dazai x reader #comission #commission #Commision #writing commission #yandere commission #yandere commision #yandere comission

[fractallogic]

Absolutely wild that I can kind of see the end in sight for packing. I packed one box today, but it was a mentally challenging box to pack (because wtf do I do with the miscellaneous small items in the kitchen drawer? Ah! Put them in a smaller box!)

I think I also need to wait until post-move to make packing another mentally challenging box less challenging (ie, I will not glue the lampshade onto the stand like I’ve been meaning to do for literally two years now, because it’s easier to pack a lampshade and the metal thing that attaches to the stand separately)

I need to also figure out how to pack these candles that don’t have lids. Which. I guess. Carefully and upright is the answer. And maybe I have some Tupperware lids I can tape onto them?

Also my dad has decided that he wants the house to be at least a little unpacked by the time he leaves (and he will start doing that while watching the cat as scone and I make our way at a more leisurely pace), so I need to figure out some way to put sex toys in a box in a way that makes it not immediately obvious what they are. I just feel like dad can go for the rest of his life without knowing that I have a glass dildo, you know.

ALSO we’re getting to the point where I need to pack the speakers, the DVD player, and the TV, all of which I’m hoping I can get away with packing like. Wednesday night. Excuse me sir those are my emotional support parks and rec DVDs.

Aaaaallllllllsooooo minorly stressed out that I already packed all of my pens that I want to update my bullet journal with (the ones I was like “aha here are things I can put in the drawers because surely I have all of the ESSENTIAL ones in my pencil case”—reader, I did not.) and also more stressed about the amount of food in the freezer I have left to eat (and not all of it will make it) and how scone is USELESS because he’s decided to keep doing his low-carb low-dairy diet and also has decided that he’s just going to BUY FOOD FROM OUTSIDE whenever he wants (the tacos and chicken sandwich I had yesterday don’t count because I am perfect and impeccable and am otherwise dedicated to eating out the fridge and freezer). EAT A CARB WITH ME WE HAVE A BAG OF RAVIOLI IN THE FREEZER THAT I WILL BE SAD TO HAVE TO THROW AWAY.

And of course before long I have to remember to switch all of the utilities in PA off and in OR on, because it’s almost the end of the month and my OR lease starts… a week from today, it turns out. Also I need to contact my landlords and find out what kind of walkthrough they want to do, and whether they want to do it on the evening of the 29th (probably; they seem to be very eager for me to get out so the new tenant can get in ASAP) or the morning of the 30th. Ugh.

AND I have to remember to give my key to the yoga studio back tomorrow, so I HAVE to go to yoga tomorrow and not be too sad about it. Wah. Why did I have to have this bad wrist flare up thing happen when I would REALLY BENEFIT from going to yoga classes CONSTANTLY (especially as I celebrate my two-year anniversary of going to this studio AND leaving at the same time)

AND and I may have told scone that we can go to the Hershey factory and check another thing off his bucket list when we go pick up my dad next Wednesday, but we will also need to clean the turtle tank that day… which I guess we can do either first thing in the morning (and I get up at a normal human time) or on another day (which would make the hose easier to pack, maybe?), but we are kind of running out of days. Ugh.

And also I should book hotels in the places we’re staying at because that makes me less stressed out during road trips to feel like I actually have a destination each day instead of “we’re just going to drive as FAR AS WE CAN, CONSEQUENCES BE DAMNED”, which also usually means that we get there at a reasonable time, check in, stretch out, go for a walk, get some dinner… just be chill about it.

All of these thoughts are happening at the same time whenever I start packing anymore and scone can’t read my mind so he doesn’t quite understand when I go “no I just need to pack slowly so I can think, idk what you should pack right now” but I just. My brain. Too many. Ugh.