#•featuring: deadlock•

[scftm1ttens]

neon: why are evie and amber sitting with their backs to each other?

deadlock: they had a fight.

neon: then why are they holding hands?

deadlock: they get sad when they fight.

// @hvstias

#valorant incorrect quotes #featuring me and amber :D #valorant #neon #deadlock #neon valorant #deadlock valorant

[fullscoreshenanigans]

I had the funny idea (not for a fanfic but just a idea) of a Spy x Family AU where Yuugo (secretly a spy) adopted Little Emma (with telepathic powers) with Lucas (secret hitman) BUT Yuugo and Lucas adopting Emma but NOT OLIVER? SCANDALOUS! and no Oliver can't have the role of the little brother Yuri even if he could XD

Also it would mean that little Emma has to befriend Norman Ratri and would PUNCH HIM at very first meeting while becoming friend with Ray, the son of a very famous teacher and a very famous musician. (in the manga, Betty's dad loves her very very deeply so it would fit Isabella's role)

Or the reverse, she would have to become friend with Ray and would PUNCH him at first meeting. But no because in Spy x Family, Damian's family seems to not be the very best and i refuse to imagine Isabella (and Leslie) being harsh with Ray when she can love him normally. (ok for Norman it's because "Ratri Family")

So let's try again.

I have no idea to how use Norman at Anya's place because i can't imagine who would be his parents. XD Smee is too old i think.

So let's go with Ray

Isabella is a very famous spy who has never been caught in all her life. she has a mission and has not need to adopt a child since she HAS a child. And a child with telepathic powers. For some reasons? Tragic past? Escape some exprimental stuff? Anyway Ray is her tresor and nobody has never discovered that the most famous spy EVER has a child and who is this child.

So Ray has to befriend Emma, the adoptive daugther of two mens (Yuugo/Lucas) because her fathers (or one of them) is/are a spy for the other side and that anything could start a war. (not that Yuugo or Lucas WANTS it anyways but still, spies don't always have control of the situation)

[I said that i don't want Ray to play Damian's role because his family is shitty and that i didn't want to give a bad parents role to Isabella but i change the story to fit Emma and her two loving dads (+ older brother Oliver) XD]

But Isabella has to pretend to be married. Guess who return in her life at this moment. Childhood friend Leslie. Who accept to play the role of the father.

[Leslie is secretly a hitman behind his musician carrer]

With a spy mother and a hitman father, Ray is super sarcastic. But decide to help his mum as much that he can.

(Will he punch Emma at first meeting?) (who would be Leslie's OVERPROTECTIVE little brother/sister then? Krone? XD) (at a point Leslie befriends Lucas too)

Who would be the teacher who go always impressed by Isabella//Yuugo and Ray//Emma (according of which family is chosen)? Human!Leuvis of course. (Or Human!Sonju)

Like The kids are taken hostage and Ray/Emma has telephatic powers so knows that there are no real danger and are like "meh" H!Leuvis: this kid has nerves of steels :O

a Spy x Family AU where Yuugo (secretly a spy) adopted Little Emma (with telepathic powers) with Lucas (secret hitman)

Shoutout to @yuucaslovebot for the flipped Yuucas take on this AU. (the woke version to the broke NE or RE version).

Also it would mean that little Emma has to befriend Norman Ratri and would PUNCH HIM at very first meeting while becoming friend with Ray

It is wild to think of Norman ever being tsundere toward Emma since that sort of bristling fits more with Grace Field-era Ray (Tsunde-Ray and whatnot), but on the family side of things his dysfunctional and antagonistic relationship with the Ratris lends itself well to the dysfunction among the Desmonds.

I have no idea to how use Norman at Anya's place because i can't imagine who would be his parents. XD Smee is too old i think.

Sleeping on the comedic gold of JameSmee with James as Yor so Peter is Yuri, for shame.

We were never given a definite age for James or Smee, but I think James being dead for 14 years throws people off because we always see him as he was when he died.

(The Promised Neverland Art Book World)

Meanwhile Smee has had 14 more years of aging when we see him in the present.

(Season 2 Episode 8)

But he (and James) look around Andrew's age in the voiceover visuals from chapter 160 and in the side scene where James dies at the end of chapter 173.

Granted, with the way Demizu plays around with audience perception in how she draws the characters in a given scene based on their own perception of themselves and the strife they carry in their hearts to how they view other characters around them based on their relationship with them (e.g.‚ Isabella towering over the children as an ever-looming threat in various low-angle frames, Sonju appearing behind Emma and Ray at the end of chapter 45 as an imposing figure and then becoming drastically smaller and more human than any of the wild demons the kids encounter before the reveal of the evil blood when he's revealed as an ally, Norman looking like he's a mid-thirties corporate lawyer throughout all of chapter 125 as he forms the alliance of liars with Geelan, etc.), these portrayals could be inaccurate. James could be anywhere from his mid-teens to his mid-twenties during Peter's flashback in chapter 173.

But this late in the story with more truths known to the main cast, I'm inclined to believe the aforementioned panels from 160 and 173 are reflective of their actual ages.

Who would be the teacher who go always impressed by Isabella//Yuugo and Ray//Emma (according of which family is chosen)? Human!Leuvis of course. (Or Human!Sonju)

I can't really see Sonju in an overly fawning role or getting wrapped up in all the pomp and pretense of Eden without the hidden motive of eventually being able to hunt the most dangerous game, which would be kind of a nifty spin on Henderson's character, but even then it doesn't really vibe with his overall calm and reserved personality which seems more aligned with Mr. Green during his debut in chapter 39. He's not nearly as excitable as Leuvis, who would 110% give into the throes of obsession with elegance and decorum, either on the straight-and-narrow if you don't have him entirely breaking with Eden's code, or if whomever is filling the Loid and Anya roles isn't meshing seamlessly with Eden culture and their presence is seen as a nuisance by the faculty and/or parents for trying to eek their way into upper Ostania society. The latter allows him to delight in the loopholes and subversions of the current system for his own entertainment that can align more with his canon counterpart if the elegance they display fits with his own personal and potentially convoluted code of conduct.

#me when I'm finally going through asks that have been sitting in my drafts for months #I fell off S×F during the Red Circus arc so idk if Mr. Green has been featured more #but out of all the Eden staff he seems to be the closest to Sonju personality-wise and the vibes of the wisdom he dishes out #also me going on a tangent about a throwaway sentence largely irrelevant to the main focus of this AU post? more likely than you think #I do lowkey champion JameSmee just for funsies and the potential #Peter really is a deadlock for Yuri tho lol I think a JameSmee spin on Tw!Yor is valid for that alone #naehja #Long Post #The Promised Neverland #TPN AU #FSS Asks #FSS Chatter #Yuucas #JameSmee #Leuvis #Sonju #James Ratri #Smee #TPN Smee #The Promised Neverland Art Book World #Return to Grace Field Arc #TPN 160 #TPN 173 #TPN S2 #TPN S2e08 #Norman Ratri #S×F AU #I default to James being early 30s when he died‚ specifically 33 #because isn't that just the way for the major named adult characters that are involved with these kids in some capacity #Smee breaking the mold and living into his 40s or 50s heyyo

[primaviva]

PUCK YOU

featuring. hockey!ellie williams x fem!reader synopsis. after winning the final game of the season, ellie wants you to join her in celebrating in the locker room. warnings. descriptions of the female body, suggestive content, hardcore making out ( i. e. breast play, grinding, hair pulling…) read at your own discretion

eighty six—the number that defined your girlfriend's prowess on the ice.

it was the number you witnessed gliding effortlessly across the frozen surface, scoring goals with a mighty grip on the hockey stick. it was the number you saw when her frustration reached its peak, her helmet flying across the room, marked unmistakably with that bold eighty six.

and now, as you watched the game unfold, you proudly donned the same number on your back. the vibrant red jersey draped your frame in a comfortably oversized, boyfriend-style fit. originally ellie's, she had lovingly given it to you, fully aware of your affinity for wearing her clothes, with the added sentiment that it’s her team jersey adorning your figure as you cheered her on during games.

in the highly anticipated matchup against the seattle krakens, ellie found herself facing off against her arch-nemesis, abby anderson, who always seemed to harbor an unspoken animosity towards her. perhaps it stemmed from abby's envy of ellie's successes in the industry, or maybe it was fueled by a longing to occupy the same position. whatever the reason, their encounters invariably generated newsworthy headlines.

ellie was well aware of the power of making headlines, understanding that the public loved a good rivalry. the crowd, amused by the tension between ellie and abby, eagerly absorbed every moment of them clashing on the monitors. well, everyone but you. unlike the spectators, you knew the toll it took on ellie. while you delighted in witnessing the furrow of ellie's brows and the intensity in her evergreen gaze, you understood the weight of her anger, knowing how overwhelming those emotions could be for her during gameplay. ellie also just didn’t like getting angry, as she knew how terrible she could get when succumbing to the emotion.

as the game against the seattle krakens reached its exhilarating climax, the scoreboard displayed a tense deadlock. "ellie" and "abby" reverberated through the arena, transforming into a fierce battle of vocal support among the spectators. the names echoed through the crowd, each fan fervently chanting for their favorite player to emerge victorious.

you leaned forward, leaning over the barrier that separated the passionate crowd from the icy battleground. eager to catch a glimpse of the unfolding spectacle, you yearned for a front-row view of the action.

"kick her ass!" your voice rang out, carried by a surge of adrenaline as you fervently waved your hands in the air, willing ellie to triumph with every fiber of your being.

with each stride, ellie's instincts took over. in a swift, fluid motion, ellie seized control of the puck, effortlessly maneuvering past defenders with her unmatched skill. among the sea of opponents, her eyes locked onto abby, her greatest rival, who relentlessly pursued her, driven by a desire to strip ellie of the puck. with precision and agility, ellie danced around abby's relentless advances, her stickwork a symphony of finesse. the crowd watched in awe as the two players engaged in a thrilling duel, but with a burst of speed, your girlfriend left abby in her wake, weaving through the defense.the crowd held their breath, captivated by the scene before them.

the ice seemed to tremble beneath her skates as she closed in on the goal, her heart pounding in her chest. time seemed to stand still as she unleashed a powerful shot, puck sailing through the air and evading the outstretched glove of the goaltender, finding the back of the net. satisfying, it reverberated with a resounding thud as the puck found its mark, securing victory for ellie's team. the arena erupted in a chorus of thunderous cheers, the crowd's jubilation mirroring the euphoria in ellie's own heart.

as the final buzzer echoed through the arena, signaling the end of the intense match, the spectators began to disperse, their cheers fading into the background. ellie along with her team members, elated by their hard-fought victory, eagerly made their way to the locker room to celebrate.

that was the routine of those games. the teams would go to the locker rooms to change out of their gear until they come back out to wait for their bus which left a little later as the coaches made sure the media got some press with the stars of the teams. you would wait for ellie outside of the lockers to greet her with a well deserved kiss and hug before it was time to hit the road.

however, what wasn’t apart of the routine was ellie taking much longer than her teammates, to the point where everyone had left the lockers to go outside and get some fresh air in the dark night sky. usually ellie was eager to get out of her sweaty uniform and lay flat on the floor in relief that it was over, one time she had practically taken her shirt off before leaving the rink.

as you contemplated walking inside, dina, one of ellie's teammates, approached you with a knowing look.

"dina, where's ellie?" you inquired, crossing your arms over your chest as you eagerly awaited her answer.

the raven-head sighed softly, her eyes conveying a sense of understanding to your anxious state. "she's still in the locker room," dina replied, voice laced with empathy. "she needed a moment to calm down. it got pretty intense out there."

your heart skipped a beat as you took in dina's words. you knew all too well how overwhelming emotions could be for ellie, especially in the aftermath of a fiercely contested game like this one. without a second thought, you made your way towards the locker room.

as you entered the dimly lit space, the air was heavy with exhaustion. and there, in the corner, you spotted ellie, her figure slumped on a bench, her equipment scattered haphazardly around her. the sweat glistening on her forehead and the lingering fire in her eyes showed you all you needed to know.

her distant expression revealed a mind lost in deep contemplation, seemingly oblivious to the world around her, including your presence at the doorway.

"ellie," you softly called out, breaking the spell of her introspection.

in an instant, her head snapped up, the fog of her thoughts dissipating as a radiant, toothy smile graced her face. it was the kind of infectious grin that only ellie, with her unique brand of endearing quirkiness, could effortlessly rock. rising from the bench, standing tall as she strode purposefully towards you.

closing the distance between you, ellie enveloped you in her strong arms, lifting you up effortlessly off the ground. her face nestled into the crook of your neck, her warm breath sending gentle shivers down your spine.

the world outside the locker room faded away—as she held you, you could feel the weight of the game lifting from alongside her.

"there you are," she murmured against your neck, her voice muffled but happy nonetheless.

amidst stifled laughter, you attempted to speak. "did you hear me cheering?" you managed to ask.

"how could i not hear you, baby? you were the loudest one out there," ellie retorted, another smile gracing her face. she loved how supportive you always were of her. "thank you for always being there for my games. it means a lot to me, having my beautiful girl cheering me on."

tenderly, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her pale green eyes brimming with warmth and love. on the field, ellie exuded toughness and fierceness, but with you, her armor melted away, revealing a softer, caring side that you brought out in her.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her remark about being the loudest, preferring to describe her as passionate. "you good?" you asked, your gaze fixed on her as your vision readjusted from being taken to the ground. "i know how much it gets to you when abby tries to rile you up during games."

ellie let out a sigh at the mention of abby. "i'm fine, don't worry about her," she replied, her voice laced with frustration, her hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck.

but you could see the tension in her jaw, the way her body seemed to hold onto the irritation caused by abby's actions.

"thanks for checking on me," she expressed, her voice softer now. ellie leaned down, resting her forehead against yours, and released a deep sigh. it felt as if she were fully surrendering her body weight onto you, relying on your support. she was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

you weren’t buying tickets to her act.

as you studied her face, you noticed her tightly shut eyes and the creases forming around them. "i find it hard to believe you're okay. you look exhausted. sit," you firmly stated, placing your hands on her shoulders and gently guiding her back down onto the bench, encouraging her to rest.

ellie sighed and didn't resist as you made her sit back down on the bench. as tough as she was, she knew better than to argue with you when you used that tone.

"you know me too well,” ellie noted as she relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, closing her eyes. you always seemed to see right through her facade of being fine. the game had taken more out of her than she cared to admit.

you sat there, quietly observing her presence. the sheen of sweat adorned her forehead, causing strands of stray hair to cling to the sides. her skin appeared moist, a clear indication that she had recently stepped off the rink. your eyes remained fixed on her, capturing the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each inhale and exhale, a rhythmic cadence that grew slower and more deliberate. as you watched, your mind couldn't help but wander, envisioning the strength and definition of her abs concealed beneath her jersey. surely, the intensity of her performance left her core muscles taut and sculpted.

"will you sit with me for a bit?" she questioned, opening one eye to look at you hopefully. ellie just wanted a few quiet moments with you before the crowds dispersed. your presence alone seemed to ease her fatigue.

you nodded silently, a wordless affirmation of your unwavering support, before settling down beside her. her eyes attentively followed your every movement, capturing each subtle motion as you took your place next to her. she kept her gaze fixed on you, her emerald eyes shimmering in the softly lit room, as if trying to memorize every detail before finally closing them, her head finding solace against the wall.

"i really do appreciate you," she spoke amongst the silence. reaching for your hand, she brought it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon it.

ellie, the dominant force on the field, always had a calm vulnerability in your presence. you provided the equilibrium she needed, a balance that no one else could offer.

you couldn't help but giggle at the sensations elicited by her tender kiss on your hand. "don't thank me," you playfully responded, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. "come on, let me help you get undressed." as you rose from your seat, you noticed a devilish smirk on her face. "i didn't mean it like that, so don't even think about it," you emphasized, walking between her open legs as she sat, firmly grasping the bottom of her jersey.

she teasingly placed her hands behind your thighs, as if mockingly trying to keep you in place, before finally relenting and allowing you to proceed with removing her from her sweaty uniform.

"you know i can’t help myself around you," ellie playfully remarked, punctuating her words with a wink. however, as you tended to her, ellie surrendered herself to your caring touch, feeling the tightness in her muscles melt away.

she raised her arms, a silent invitation for you to remove her jersey. with gentle and skillful movements, you carefully pulled the fabric over her head, revealing the glistening sheen of perspiration on her skin. moving on, you deftly unfastened her shoulder pads, followed by her elbow pads. the expression on her face spoke volumes, a mixture of relief and gratitude as the weight of the protective gear was lifted from her.

ellie grinned up at you, thoroughly enjoying teasing you even when exhausted. you were just so cute when you got flustered. but she resisted making any other suggestive comments as you helped remove her pads and gear. she could tell you were going into protective girlfriend mode to take care of her.

as the last piece came off, ellie sighed in relief. "god, that’s so much better, thank you. i feel lighter already." she pulled you closer between her legs so your bodies were pressed together, though mindful not to squeeze you too tightly in her tired state. the tension began to ease from her muscles.

you just had that calming presence which soothed ellie's nerves. just being close to you helped her unwind after the stress of competition. she leaned back and closed her eyes contentedly.

"come here," ellie beckoned, extending her arm towards you, her desire for your closeness evident. "i just want to hold my girl before having to sit through a three-hour bus ride," she joked, a bit of truth in her statement.

with hesitation and curiosity, you placed your hand in hers, uncertain of what she had in mind. but before you could fully anticipate her next move, ellie swiftly pulled you into her lap, enveloping you in her embrace.

the suddenness of the action surprised you, but as you settled into her lap, you felt a wave of warmth and security wash over you. nestled against her, you could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

ellie wrapped her strong arms securely around your waist as you settled into her lap. she rested her chin on your shoulder and breathed you in deeply.

"mmm, there's my girl,” she whispered. holding you always made ellie feel centered. like the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of you. she nuzzled softly against your neck, placing gentle kisses along your skin. "i love you so much," she spoke while holding you tighter, hoping you knew how much you meant to her.

ellie's tired muscles relaxed further as she embraced you. your presence alone seemed to ease the strain from her body. she rocked you gently in her arms, enjoying this quiet moment of intimacy.

"i love you too," you whispered in response, your words filled with nothing less of love. ellie's gaze locked onto yours, her pupils dilating as she immersed herself in the depths of your eyes. in that intimate exchange, she sought to discover every shade, every intricate detail that made your eyes uniquely yours.

her hand, which had secured your waist, embarked on a slow and agonizing path up your back, sending a tantalizing shiver along your spine. it finally settled at the nape of your neck, her touch both gentle and possessive. with a firm grasp, she guided your head towards hers, closing the distance between your lips.

ellie kissed you softly yet deeply, savoring the feeling of your lips against hers. all the anxiety and frustration from the game seemed to melt away in your affectionate embrace.

she gently traced her tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance in a way that was loving yet dominant. her hand cradled the back of your head tenderly even as she pulled you in closer.

kissing you always made ellie feel possessive yet protective at the same time. like she never wanted to let you go. she loved you so fiercely it sometimes scared her. but she knew you were the only one who truly saw her for who she was—not just an athlete but a person.

as your lips moved in perfect harmony, a sensuous dance of desire, you became lost in the intoxicating rhythm. the magnetic pull between you seemed irresistible, drawing you into a world where nothing else mattered but her body. the wetness of her mouth and the mingling of saliva heightened the intensity, an unspoken language shared between you both.

when you reluctantly parted to catch your breath, a thin strand of saliva lingered, connecting you both momentarily. ellie leaned her forehead against yours, her breaths heavy and labored. her pale green eyes bore into yours, radiating warmth and unbridled desire. “i need you,” she expressed with a raw simplicity, her voice husky and filled with need. in your embrace, ellie found solace, the only place where true tranquility resided.

ellie craved an outlet, a means to divert her frustrations and escape the overwhelming demands of the game. and in that moment, there was no better distraction than being consumed by thoughts of you, her mind freed from pucks and goalies.

with a swift gesture, she wiped away the saliva from her chin before firmly gripping your jaw, drawing your lips back to hers. the kiss intensified, akin to the crashing of rough waves against a sailor's vessel. each crash left an imprint, and you could sense the tender fullness of your lips bruising under the passionate onslaught.

a deep, resonant moan escaped your throat, merging with the union of your mouths. your hands found purchase on her shoulders as you adjusted yourself, straddling her waist with a sense of urgency.

ellie growled low in her throat at your moan, arousal spiking through her body in an instant. she gripped your hips tighter, grinding you against her as your movements stirred her growing need.

kissing you deeper, ellie dominated your mouth with her tongue, possessing you completely. one hand slid up your back, fingers clutching possessively. the other tangled in your hair to hold you right where she wanted.

she kissed like she played—with a fiery intensity and competitive drive to claim victory. ellie poured all her pent up passion and longing into the kiss, asserting her dominance yet caring for you completely.

when you finally broke apart again, panting heavily, ellie gazed at you with lust-darkened eyes. "fuck, baby, you're so hot,” she groaned, nipping along your jaw and down your neck, leaving her mark.

ellie was throbbing with want, craving the intimate release only you could give her after a game.

"ellie, did you forget we're in the locker room?" you began to protest, but ellie's touch interrupted your words, cupping your clothed boobs and giving them a slow yet tender squeeze. you hated how flustered she got you, especially when there were other people around. “cut the shit," you pleaded, but deep down, you knew that you were just as eager to help ellie find release from her stress.

ellie chuckled low in her throat at how easily she could rile you up. your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils told her exactly how turned on you were despite your words.

with a mischievous grin, ellie met your plea while giving your breasts another b squeeze. "aw, come on, baby, don't pretend you don't love it when i get you all hot and bothered," she teased, her voice low and seductive.

ellie lived for the challenge of pushing your buttons and claiming your body as her own, even with others so close. the thrill of potentially getting caught only served to heighten her arousal.

she leaned in to nibble your earlobe sensually, "bet i can make you cum before we even leave this room." ellie's hand slid down your stomach to cup your clit through your jeans.

"what do you say? want to put on a little after show for me?" she gripped your ass firmly with her other hand, grinding you down against her. ellie knew all your secrets and weaknesses, and was more than willing to exploit them.

you couldn't help but mumble, "fuck," as your hands gripped on her hair. you moved in for another kiss without thinking twice as you were too needy to keep her mouth to yourself.

ellie kissed you hungrily, all her earlier arousal igniting into an inferno. she moaned against your mouth at the feel of your hands gripping her hair firmly. oh, how the girl loved it when you took charge and matched her dominance with your own.

it was as if she was starving for you, devouring your mouth possessively. she grounded up against your core, feeling how wet you were already through your jeans. ellie delighted in unraveling your composure and leaving you a panting, wanting mess.

her hands roamed your body possessively, gripping your ass to grind you down harder. ellie sucked your bottom lip between her teeth, nipping teasingly. she wanted you aching and desperate for her. your girlfriend loved how responsive your body was to her touch, how you melted under her.

breaking the kiss momentarily, ellie gazed up at you with eyes dark with lust. "god, you're so fucking hot. think anyone would notice if i made you come right here?"

she traced delicate patterns on your warm skin, teasing ever closer to your core. ellie lived to unravel you, reduce you to a flushed, quivering mess before claiming your pleasure as her own. she rolled her hips up in a slow, deep circle, applying delicious friction directly against your clit now. ellie was determined to push you over the edge before letting you leave this locker room.

ellie groaned at your nails scraping across her scalp, spurring her desire higher. she kissed you back fervently, delving her tongue between your lips to tangle with your own.

your desperate little noises only served to spur her on. ellie was going to thoroughly ravish you right here, right now, and to hell with anyone who might catch them. you were hers.

"you're gonna make a mess of your uniform," you managed to gasp out, your words challenged by hushed breaths and the rapid beating of your heart. in the grand scheme of things, her uniform should have been the least of your concerns, but your mind was clouded, rendering you unable to think clearly.

ellie chuckled low in her throat as you panted and squirmed in her lap. you were always so cute when she had you this worked up.

"that's what the showers are for, baby." she rolled her hips up in another slow, deep grind against your clit. ellie nibbled along your neck hungrily, branding you with love bites. "don't care about the uniform, i just want you,” she declared while kissing you hard, refusing to break eye contact as her hand slid under your low waisted jeans.

ellie knew exactly how to unravel you, where to touch to draw out your pleasure. she could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear as you ground yourself down against her hand. your girlfriend swallowed your soft moans, owning your mouth completely as your hips began to ride her expert fingers.

her hands slid under the famous eighty six jersey she lent you to caress and squeeze your breasts skin on skin. ellie tweaked your nipples between her fingertips, rubbing them into stiff peaks.

"bet you’re close already," ellie muttered. she kissed you fiercely, tongue plunging into your mouth in time with her grinding hips.

ellie was throbbing with her own needs but lived for your pleasure above her own. she would push you over the edge a thousand times just to see your blissful expression.

the hockey player took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

she smirked, loving how close she had you already. you began subconsciously grinding yourself on her through, back and forth as you sucked her tongue in your mouth. your moans of pleasure were like music to her ears.

"that's it baby, ride my thigh. feel how wet you're making me?" she continued to talk you through, emphasizing her words by grinding up against your core once more.

ellie captivated your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. her hands gripped your ass possessively, helping lift and lower your hips.

“ellie,” you mumbled, the intensity of the moment consuming you, as rational thoughts and the ability to express them struggled to break through the haze of desire.

the brunette's head quipped up as soon as she saw your beautiful visage. it was one of her favorite things to do at these times, to simply observe the obscene looks on your face that she made herself, tight with pleasure.

ellie took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

“yeah? if you have something to say, you gotta use your words (y/n). so if you want it, then tell me you want to cum all over my hand while i fuck you right here,” ellie taunted, now nipping at your bottom lip, her husky voice dripping dominance and desire.

the words that escaped her lips left you stunned, rendering you momentarily speechless. your eyes watched her intently as she adjusted her stance against the wall. her every movement seemed deliberate, commanding your attention.

with trembling hands, you reached out to steady yourself against a nearby surface, the weight of her words sinking in as you opted for the wall behind ellie. as she moved her arm once more, your gaze followed. her strong fingers dipped past the fabric to tease your entrance eagerly. "come on baby, don't leave me hanging,” ellie ordered gruffly, knowing the sound of her voice could send you over the edge.

she held you flush against her body, grinding up to meet your every roll of hips. you swallowed each other's moans with deep kisses, tongues tangling erotically. ellie was determined to push you over the edge right here in this very locker room.

all of a sudden, a disruptive knocking sound echoed through the locker room door, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you both. a voice, belonging to joel, ellie's hockey coach, seeped through the other side, brimming with impatience.

"ellie, hurry up! the bus is outside, and our asses will leave you here to hitchhike if you don't come out in the next five minutes," joel's voice boomed, giving his last warning to your girlfriend.

you exchanged a knowing glance, the disappointment and longing apparent in your eyes. ellie growled in frustration as joel's voice interrupted your intense moment. of course, right when she was finally forgetting her problems, the problem came knocking on the door.

"shit," she muttered under her breath. ellie rested her forehead against yours as you both panted from being out of breath, the rhythm of your heartbeats gradually slowing, but the desire within you remaining unquenched.

"we're not done here," ellie whispered huskily, giving your ass a possessive squeeze.

louder so joel could hear, she called out, "yeah yeah, we're coming!" you tried not to laugh, but ellie giggled to herself, a sly smile on her face at the double meaning which caused you to roll your eyes.

ellie's lips pressed against yours for one final, ravenous kiss, a bittersweet taste that left you yearning for more. "we’re gonna finish this later, i promise,” she declared in a hushed tone, fueling what already thrummed between you.

with a playful slap on your ass whilst she got off the bench, ellie teased you, her touch electric against your skin. time was of the essence as you swiftly assisted her in changing out of her hockey gear and into more comfortable clothes.

the weight of disappointment settled upon both of you, and with mutual understanding, you tenderly brushed each other's disheveled hair back into place. gently, you attempted to wipe the sweat from each other's faces, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible. Not to mention, it was also severely embarrassing.

leaving the confines of the locker room, you stepped outside and joined ellie's teammates on the bus. taking your places among them, you immersed yourself in the multiple topics that would usually take place, ranging from animated discussions about the game to reflections on personal improvement and snippets of their everyday lives. or, they simply just talked shit about the other team and how stupid their name was—it could even go as far as saying how ugly and mismatched the team colors would be.

ellie knew you'd be aching for her touch until then. it would be a long, frustrating bus ride for both of you back to jackson. but the anticipation would make the payoff so much sweeter.

she knew she would get her after-game reward.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #tlou x reader #tlou x you #tlou x y/n #ellie williams fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x y/n

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

a million dollars

-i was rlly rlly down bad. the end was rlly rushed cuz i started to get tired but here ya go :D

-1479 words

-creampie, throatpie, switch!Karina, switch!You

A million dollars. That’s literally just a tiny fraction of what you feel whenever you’re around Karina. 

She’s practically unreal. Perfect in every aspect. Sure as an idol, her looks are ever changing to match the concept, but it doesn’t change how beautiful and perfect Karina is. 

Maybe it’s the fact that she’s an idol that you know on a personal, that changes everything. Something about having her all to yourself, when in fact, you’d know that there are people that would quite literally kill to be in your position. Or rather, your holy throne. That makes you feel like a million dollars. 

“Missed me loverboy?” 

Her voice. It’s like a sugar glazed donut, filled with lust, seduction. Much like a siren. 

She grabs your cock in one hand like a mere plaything, the other massaging your balls. And suddenly, your mind is taken back to the Stamp On It music video. But apparently so is her mind.

“Want me to put my stamp on it?”

She mirrors her exact motions from the MV. One pump up and down and precum is already leaking from your tip. The next pumps up and down and you throw your head back, cock throbbing uncontrollably within the grasp of Karina’s hands. She moves her head forward, locks eyes intensely with you when your head recoils back to admire the sex show right before you, and with those deadly lips, places a passionate, cherry-flavored kiss on the head of your dick. Then, kiss, after kiss, after kiss, until she reaches the base. 

“Fuck… Karina…” is all that manages to come out of your mouth.

Then, eyes still deadlocked onto yours, she takes your entire length into her mouth, until her moist cherry laced-lips are now in contact with your pelvis and you can feel it leaving a mark. Your hand moves to caress her face. Mentally, you’re still trying to fathom how it is that a loser like you, has his cock nesting within the warmth of the AI Visual’s mouth. 

Karina then starts bobbing her head up and down slowly, tongue swirling around the veiny body part, sending tingles throughout your body. 

She’s giving a fucking blowjob perfectly. It’s like her mouth was made just to satisfy you and not belt out lyrics.

Her gaze never wavers as she’s working her mouth magic. Clearly, she relishes watching you at the mercy of her actions, knowing that you’d go wild if she stopped whatever she was doing. She starts to speed up a bit and all you can do to embrace the incoming wave of pleasure is grip the blanket at the edge of the bed even harder than you already are. With her increased speed, she also starts to make things sloppier, incorporating slurping sounds and moving her head side to side, letting your rock hard cock press against the walls of her mouth. A residue of drool and cum starts gathering around her mouth, some dripping off her sharp chin and onto the wooden floor of which she was kneeling on. A few more bobs of her head, and you’re ready to release a week’s worth of your baby batter inside her mouth, down her throat. 

“Karina…I’m fucking-”

The wave of pleasure comes crashing in before you can finish your sentence. And instead of letting your shaft go, she pushes herself back down to the base of your cock and stays there, letting you dispense all your cum inside her mouth. Once she feels that you’re done, she finally lets you go. Then, as traditions follow, she opens her mouth to show you the mess you made and in one gulp, downs it.

“Delicious, just like usual. But I want more.”

She pounces on you, and her clothing starts to come off. Revealing her no less than perfect body features.  Every strut the pantheress makes, her massive tits jiggle, her tight midriff tightens and contracts according to how she wills and her luscious thighs sing out to you. Not forgetting her cleanly shaven pussy, the golden honeypot, the crème de la crème. 

“You’re always so fucking hard for me, aren't you, baby boy?” 

“Of course Karina, which sane guy would not get a raging boner when they're faced with your nude body.”

She runs her tongue across your abs as she glides along the length of your body, letting her silky smooth skin rub against every cell of yours. As her tits and midriff grind against your cock, you are mentally telling yourself. Don't fucking bust right now. Imagine how much of a loser she’d think you are if you were to come just like that. But your body doesn't follow your mind. Through your closed, grimacing eyes, you can hear her satisfied giggles as you squirm beneath her. 

With one hand, she lines your throbbing cock against her folds, while with her other arm, she wraps it around your neck and whispers into your ear with the sluttiest voice possible, “I’m gonna fucking drain your black mamba dry.” And once she has finished whispering her sweet nothings, she slams her firm butt down onto your cock, the whole length going in all at once. Her walls immediately clamp down on you and despite having fucked her so many times, she’s always as tight as the first time you fucked her.

“Fucking hell Karina, you’re so fucking tight!”

Your hands mystically find their way down to her ass cheeks. Squeeze the right one with all your might, and slap the other one and feel the fat ripple right beneath your palm. 

“Fuck! That’s right, slap my beautiful fucking ass. I- angh! know you fucking love it!”

Your eyes catch sight of her collarbones and you gingerly nibble on them. Her cherry scent overruns your nostrils and fills your lungs. Gosh this woman is so addictive.

“Fuck Karina! I’m so fucking horny you have no idea.”

You flip her and now the roles are reversed. 

You think about all the men you've heard. 

Look at those gigantic tits, I would love to suckle on them. 

Her fucking face is so gorgeous, I’d love to ruin it with all my cum.

Imagine plowing her ass day in and day out, I’d do that till the day I die.

Suddenly, your eyes are full of aggression. Pushing her knees up to her chest, you start buckling your hips in and out of her pussy like a freaking madman. The smacking sound of your skin crashing with her thighs bounces off the walls of the room, which may be too thin. Well, it wouldn't be the first time the neighbors asked about some “hammering at night”. The only hammering you both were doing was to each other’s genitalia.

“Oh fuck! That's right, fuck me like you fucking mean it!”

Magically, your left hand has found its way back to her plump butt cheek. Only you get to touch this beautiful butt. The air gets filled with the loud slap of your hand coming into contact with her butt. 

You look down at Karina. Her calm and controlled demeanor from before is gone, her mouth is wide agape and her eyes have rolled to the back of her head thanks to your relentless pounding of her ass, and yet she still looks absolutely out of this world. Look down a bit more, and you see her tits moving in correspondence to your thrusts. You grab onto them, knead them and pinch and play around with her erect nipples.

“Fuck- Angh- Gonna. Fucking. Cum.”

Karina’s pussy clenches around your cock tightly as her loin muscles contract. A stream of gush squirts out from her honeypot and covers her thighs and some of your body in her juice. Not to worry though, you’d lick them off her honey thighs later, or maybe bury your cock within them later when you were horny again.

“Cum inside. Please. I want to feel you all up in me.”

This time, you lean in and whisper into her ear, “Your wish is my command.”

And with the green light present, the floodgates open. 

You bury your cock all the way, desperate to let it all out.

"That's right. Fill my slutty pussy up with your baby batter. Leave your mark on me."

Spurt after spurt of cum is dumped straight into Karina’s pussy, red from your vigorous pounding. You slowly pull your cock out of her tight caverns, catching a glimpse of your cum trickling out slowly before collapsing beside her. Both of you are breathing furiously, desperately trying to make up for the oxygen lost from your vigorous fucking. Karina turns to face you and caresses your cheek, before warmly saying in the most mallow, sweet voice that thinly veils her lustful intent.

“Get some rest baby boy. I’ll wake you up in the morning to give me my morning protein.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader #aespa smut #karina smut

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Deadlock

Summary: A jealous Ettore endeavours to remind her just who is in control | Word Count: 1.9k~ | Warnings: dubcon, ettore, face fucking, breath play, degradation, face slapping, jealous ettore, come swallowing

It was dangerous and they both knew it. Someone was bound to find out sooner or later. But what punishment could be worse than what their lives currently were? For her, the worst that Dibs could do was up her sedatives and forgo the use of lubrication when her bi-weekly examinations were due.

Ettore on the other hand didn't care much for thinking how he could be punished. All he thought in terms of that, was what he could do to her.

He remembers fucking seething, sat on one side of the canteen, not even paying attention to how tightly he gripped the fork in his palm, wound tight with anger and resentment as she watched her and Monte chat lazily while they picked out their food.

To anyone else, it was merely a friendly, non-committal conversation. And if Ettore really thought about it, he'd have realised that displaying any kind of jealousy would expose their situation, whatever it was.

So even though he wanted to put his fist through Monte's face, he remained seated, and occasionally caught her gaze as she ate as well. The stupid bitch furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering why he looked so pissed off.

She'd find out. He'd make sure of it.

Once the lights were dimmed in their superficial nighttime, he could feel his heart simmering with both jealous rage and excitement as he made his way to her cell on the other side of the ship. 

His blood ran hot with each shallow stride, his narrowed eyes creeping into every doorway as he passed with the soft pats of the air conditioning against his bare chest. His neck muscles tightened, forming his hands into fists in an attempt to remain grounded and in control of himself. 

In the low fluorescent light, he could make out her face and every single miniscule feature. Unlike the stoic, cold expression she wore when she was awake, when she was asleep she looked near peaceful.

Her arms were tucked beneath the pillow beneath her head, the slope of her back visible with the plain white shirt that clung to her form. The blanket, with her constant fidgeting, had slipped down her back, and he dug his fingernails into his palm when he saw the slither of soft, feminine skin at her hip.

With a half-annoyed huff, she turned over in her sleep, laying on her back, the flesh of her neck stretched so deliciously he could have sunk his teeth right into her and torn her apart like an over-ripened peach.

From this distance, he swore he felt the vibration of her fluttering heartbeat beneath her skin. The blood flooding through her veins.

All laid out like this, vulnerable and open, his mind began to whir as if he were in first gear, his thoughts banging loud and intrusive. His darkened eyes traced the contours of her face with his gaze, so achingly real and fragile.

Her eyes flew open when his palm wrenched over her mouth tightly, fingers digging into her jaw painfully and the other hand pinning her arm to the mattress. For a brief moment, that wide-eyed, primal fear and hurriedly breathing as she woke made that raw excitement simmer hotter.

A smirk aroused across his face, dark, animalistic eyes drawing closer, and voice quiet like the whisper of a predator, stalking and mocking their prey.

"Quiet now," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "No screaming."

His voice carried a menacing edge, a promise of darker consequences if she dared to defy him.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a wild cacophony of fear and arousal. She tried to struggle against his hold, but his grip only tightened, holding her in place with a ruthless strength that left her feeling powerless.

Her eyes gleamed with anger as he peeled his hand away from her mouth, her words sharp like a knife’s edge, “what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

His smirk disappeared, a dark seriousness dancing in his eyes as he leaned closer, the intensity of his presence almost suffocating. "Reminding you of who's in control here."

She bristled at his arrogance, her jaw clenched in defiance. "You don't get to decide that," she shot back, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I'm not some toy for you to play with whenever you feel like it."

His jaw clenched, the muscles tensing with barely contained anger. "You were flirting," he accused, his voice low and edged with bitterness. "With him.”

She could have laughed.

“You cannot be fucking serious.”

Her breath crept back in her throat as soon as his hand wrapped around it, swallowing thickly to try and keep her expression neutral and unfearing.

“You and Monte can measure dicks all you like, but what I do is none of your damn business.”

His grip around her windpipe slowly loosened and he went quiet. But she knew better than to assume it meant this was resolved.

With lips pressed together in annoyance, his fingers crept into her hair at her crown and pulled her forcefully from her bed, her knees knocking against the floor with a pained wince as he forced her to kneel in front of him.

The tug at her roots hurt, but all the same, once she saw how he eagerly lowered his sweatpants over his hips, grunting with annoyance the longer it took, arousal pooled in her stomach nonetheless.

“Had enough of your fucking voice.”

He stroked himself firmly in his palm, rousing himself to half hardness, her hair still gripped in his other hand, “Open.”

Despite herself, she raised her chin and did no such thing, her jaw tightened in defiance.

A surprised gasp is all that came out when he struck the left side of her face, pain blooming in a harsh sting. And while her eyes were shut, Ettore held her jaw in a vice-like grip and pulled her back, taking advantage of her parted lips to slide his half hard cock into her mouth.

“Fuck -” he tipped his head back at the warmth of her throat squeezing him, trying to swallow air past the blockage that remained still. 

The hold on her hair remained tight, pushing her lips as far on himself as she would go, until he felt the fat head of his cock hit the back of her throat, spluttering softly around him as he hardened.

He used the leverage he had to move her head on him when, with a whine, her hands came to his thigh to push him away, as a means of punishing her.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned lowly, watching with some sick kind of satisfaction as her eyes cracked open to look up at him, with those moist eyes he wouldn't admit he enjoyed so much.

He kept her there for a moment, before easing her off, allowing her to suck in air through her nose for a brief moment. But he didn't allow her a moment's reprieve for long and with the aid of her saliva coating his shaft, he fucked himself between her lips with ease, her whimpers coming quieter.

“Fuck - that's it-” he breathed, his voice softening as warmth crept up his spine, her eyelashes decorated with a constellation of tears as he snapped his hips against her face.

The sound that thumps throughout the room is borderline pornographic, hitting the back of her throat hard with little care if it hurts or not, the way she tries to swallow and gag around him is worth it.

He stills, pushing her head as far on him as she will go, a pleased smirk rising to his face as she glances up at him, with the beginnings of tears pooling in her waterline.

Held there, he counts mechanically in his head, watching the way she squirms for air.

“You look so fucking stupid with my cock in your mouth,” he grins darkly, moving her head side to side on him, the friction making a jolt of white hot pleasure zip through his body. He has to tighten his grip just to keep himself from coming too soon.

She whines, trying to pull herself back, gasping for air around his length.

“Hold it-”

She clenched her fists, eyes screwed shut so that tears now ran over her face. For that, he kept her there for a few more seconds, before loosening his grip, allowing his cock to slip from between her lips as she swallowed air once again down her lungs.

Moving the hair from her moistened face, he guided her back to him with a touch that was uncharacteristic. Ettore's eyes were hooded, feeling himself twitch with excitement as her lips instinctively parted. From this angle, he could see the way her nipples hardened beneath her shirt, and how her thighs were pressed together to relieve the ache that had formed there.

He tapped the now slick head of his cock against her bottom lip, “Go on, finish me off.”

She said nothing and took him, at first, slowly, bobbing on him with a vigour, pressing her tongue flat against the thick vein on the underside. A notion that made his balls tighten and his neck muscles strain.

He always liked her messy, so when he looked back down with awe at the way her saliva made his length glisten everytime she dove back on him, all he wanted to do was take back that control.

But instead he put his arms behind his back and watched, one of her hands came to the base of him, stroking what she couldn't fit comfortably. The other slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, the moan she let out vibrating through him and tugging him closer to the edge.

As he neared it, his hips subconsciously matched the rhythm she made, chasing that delicious friction, her lips tight around him. And when he hand dropped to cup his balls, gently teasing him to come sooner than he wanted, he bought both hands to her face, threading them in her hair and fucked her mouth ceaselessly to completion.

She remained quiet, only letting out a few sounds that could have been between a whimper and a moan as he pushed his pelvis against her face, hard, one last time, and trembled with pleasure as his come slid down her throat.

The sensation of her swallowing around him had his fingers tighten in her hair with overstimulation. 

With one sure movement, he pulled himself from her lips, stroking his sensitive length against her wet, open mouth and watching in awe as his pearly spend painted her tongue.

She cracked her eyes open, her waterline moistened and red-rimmed. Her knees ached against the hard floor as Ettore smeared what was left on the tip over her cheek, leaving a trail of his come and her saliva sticky on her face.

Ettore's chest heaved, and she could watch him like this all day if she could, his lips parted as he watched her lips close to swallow. But he stepped back a pace and pulled his sweatpants back over his hips.

Just as quickly, his eyes were all dark again, his voice breathy and quick, “Don't push it,” he warned with icy, cold venom, “you won't like what happens if you do it again.”

With the musky taste of him coating her mouth and the wetness between her thighs, though she didn't express it, she very much doubted it.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

#ettore high life #ettore imagine #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore smut #ettore x you #ettore x fem!reader #ettore high life fanfiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfic #ettore x oc #high life fanfiction #high life 2018 #high life movie #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

[alcsec]

types of writing utensils they use

implied modern au. featuring: albedo, kazuha, tighnari, xiao.

cw. none wc. 196

albedo

he uses a cheap ballpoint pen. used to use an expensive fountain pen but it had too many issues like leaking while in the pocket of his button-up, or constantly being taken and misplaced by his lab partners timaeus and sucrose.

kazuha

he writes artistic pieces containing flowery language on the daily and as much as i want to say he has the nice writing utensils from like muji or something - his most used tool is a wooden hb2 pencil he found inside a random desk next to a slab of dried chewing gum.

tighnari

he uses a 0.5mm lead pencil. he has a delicate hand grip along with an eye for finer details. he's able to sketch his botanical drawings with keen accuracy using a thinner lead.

xiao

he uses a 0.7mm lead pencil with a rubber grip. holds his pencil in a deadlock so the grip helps alleviates the tension on his fingers. has to be 0.7mm because he presses down onto the paper with such heavy pressure that 0.5mm lead would either immediately break or puncture a hole into the sheet which would ruin his mood for the rest of the day.

© alcsec. do not modify, copy, repost or translate any of my works

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedehara x reader #tighnari x reader #xiao x reader

[blighted-lights]

deadlock and ravage but instead of looking at any ref pics i just pull their designs outta my heart

i think deadlock should have soft features 🤷‍♂️ soft but sharp. bro's finally getting good meals and it shows

rav is just here for fun lol

#transformers #transformers art #tf art #transformers fanart #tf fanart #maccadams #maccadam #tf #mtmte #lost light #tf lost light #idw transformers #transformers idw #transformers idw1 #tf idw #idw tf #tf idw1 #idw1 #ravage #tf ravage #transformers ravage #idw ravage #drift | deadlock #drift #tf drift #transformers drift #idw drift #deadlock #idw deadlock #transformers deadlock

[dollwritesarchive]

𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎 ⎹ 𝓓.𝓖. & 𝓙.𝓣.

fandom dc / neon moon au masterlist / @dollsdc-library

featuring vampire!jason todd x human!reader ( f! ) x vampire!dick grayson

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning this is a dark fic, do not read if nonconsensual content triggers you! blood kink ( there’s so much blood lol ), fear kink, choking, nonconsensual feeding ( at first ), dacryphilia, glamoring/mind control kink, dubcon smut, fingering, threesome, spit kink, dp ( vaginal + anal ), overstimulation, ahegao, creampie, and cum marking

summary who knew a knock on your door could turn your life so upside down?

word count 6k / one shot

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

thanks so much @sinisterlysiv for the commission! ❤️

commission info & contact

the banging on your front door startles you awake.

with a strangled yelp, you sit up straight, and stare through your open bedroom door into the darkness of the hallway. listening. another furious beating of fists against your door. at first, you thought it might be the cops, the pattern similar for a moment, before you realize it’s a pair of fists— two at once, pounding against the barrier; a desperate plea.

growing up in Gotham should’ve made you more suspicious of middle of the night visitors so desperate for you to open the door that they’re trying to batter it down, but you couldn’t help but wonder: what if it was someone who needed help? what if someone innocent was on the other side of that door, being chased by one of the city’s many threats and you didn’t answer it? could you live with the guilt if you opened the door tomorrow morning to find a body on the step?

you frown, concerned, and pull yourself out of bed. the pounding was ceaseless as you escape the dim bedroom in a flurry, your sleepy apparel, an oversized Gotham Academy tee, belonged to an ex boyfriend from high school, but it had always fit you like a dress, and fluttered about your thighs as you hurry through the hall. only when you’ve flicked the switch at the end of the hall, the small living room flooding with light, that you hear the voice on the other side of the door. calling your name.

“I—I need your help, please… Open up…”

“Jason?” you whispered under your breath, practically ripping the chain lock. it swings wildly against the door as you flip the deadlock and wrench the door open. “Jason—“ your heart practically stops at the sight before you. bloodied fist prints painted the other side of the door, and your friend was covered in it. you could smell it before anything else, thick and metallic in the air, and you nearly want to gag, but you haven’t the time to react before Jason is collapsing— crumbling towards the floor like a house of cards in a thunderstorm. “Jay!” you cry out, scrambling to catch him, wrapping both arms around his midsection. “Jay? What happened? Are you okay?” you demanded, trying to pull him into the apartment. you can feel just how soaked with blood he is; his dark shirt saturated; it’s in his hair, drying on his face, and he’s leaving bloody boot prints on the floor as his legs go slack and his feet drag against it. he’s so heavy, much heavier than he looks. you’re unable to haul him in by yourself, and you huff, “Jay, can you walk? Can you come inside? Help me, please! You’re too… too heavy…”

somehow, he finds the strength, his sticky hands finding your shoulders and his boots pushing into the floor to assist in propelling him into the room. with a yelp, you stumble back. you’ve no choice but to slide to the floor when his muscles give out again, trying to soften his fall by guiding him towards the couch, his back hits the edge and he lets out a weak grunt.

“Oh, my God.” you exhale, sitting back on your knees. simply getting him inside had you panting, but now that you were sitting in front of him in the light, you could see why. he was hardly sitting up, his head lolling against the side of the couch, eyes rolling back in his skull with his bloody lips parted, jaw slack. “Hey, hey, Jay,” you mumble, grabbing his face with both palms. you could feel the blood like drying glue sticking to your hands, but you tried to ignore the queasy feeling in your stomach and shake him back to consciousness, “wake up. Come on, look at me, open your eyes and look at me!” he groans, lids flittering, and you can tell he’s trying. finally, his clear eyes try to focus on you, but they seem different than the last time you’d seen them. or maybe you were simply remembering them wrong; you hadn’t seen Jason in five years, perhaps you’d simply forgotten that they were so translucent that they seemed to glow… then again, when have you ever seen anyone’s eyes glowing like this? “Talk to me,” you plead, pushing his damp, dark tendrils back from his face, “how can I help?”

“Thirsty.” he croaked, and you thought maybe he was looking past you, over your shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m thirsty.”

“Where are you hurt, what happ—“

“Thirsty!” Jason barked, effectively starting your heart like a furious engine. he’d never yelled at you before. one, blood slicked hand reaches for you.

you nod, taking it and carefully setting it down. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back. Just… try not to move too much, okay?” you get to your feet, hurrying towards the kitchen, and you don’t notice the way his fist clenches at his side. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you hurry to the faucet and fill it, trying not to watch the water ripple from your shaking hand. the blood smeared against the glass as you gripped it, so instead, you avert your gaze back towards the living room. you can only see his legs, splayed out. please be okay, you prayed silently, please be okay.

finally, when the water reaches the brim of the glass, you turn it off and spin on your heels, about to sprint from the kitchen when you catch your reflection in the refrigerator. the silver heavily distorts your countenance, but you can still see the crimson blurs, massive and ugly splotches of blood from your shoulders to your bare knees. you pause, staring into the reflection in horror, but looking down at yourself. it wasn’t any less shocking than in the reflection, seeing your night shirt streaked in what you suspected to be your friend’s blood. but you couldn’t linger there, you couldn’t fall apart because he still needed your help.

“Okay, here we go.” you whisper, hoping to soothe him as you kneel by his side again, one hand coming up to cradle the nape of his neck and urge him to sit up as you bring the glass to his lips. “Drink. It’s okay.” you feel a soft tickle of relief brought about when you watch him take in water, lips smearing ruby over the rim of the glass. he took a large gulp into his mouth, and you wanted to exhale. that was, until he choked on it. “Easy!” you pull him up straighter, concerned.

but Jason was gagging, sputtering and spitting water all over the floor as he floundered. with a powerful swat, he knocks the glass from your hand and it explodes when it makes contact with the floor, shattering by your knees. you jump, recoiling from him as he pulls himself to his knees and doubles over. both palms smack against the wooden panels of the floor as he coughs water up on to it. you stare in horror, unsure of how to help.

“J— Jay…” you mutter, watching him close, and inch closer, “where are you hurt? Can you show me?” he doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t pull away when you peel his soaking shirt upwards, examining his back for any injuries. with your fingertips, you prod carefully at his skin. it’s freezing, so cold that you’re in shock that he’s even still alive, but you can’t seem to find a single break in his skin, not a single bullet wound or gash from a blade. your hand careens his waist, feeling on his stomach until your fingertips brush a patch of rough flesh, and he flinches. one of his fists flees to grasp your wrist as he falls back on to his butt and inches backwards.

“No.” he grimaces, shaking his head, but his grip tightens around your wrist, so you scoot closer, wincing.

“I need to see,” you reply, looking up at him, “I need to know how bad it is.” but it’s almost as if Jason is looking through you, as if his vision is unfocused, his eyeline streamlined to your neck instead of your countenance. his hand is vice tight and squeezing so hard you fear your wrist might snap, and he’s drawing you closer, just staring. “Jason…” you gulp back a whimper, eyes widening, “that hurts…”

and then, strangely enough, it’s as if he snaps out of a trance. his fingers uncurl from around your wrist and he lays back, averting his eyes. you take a moment to rub the soreness out of your wrist with your other hand before you look back at him, seemingly docile for now, and you swallow around the lump in your throat, leaning closer. this time, both of your hands reach out for him, holding on to the hem of his shirt and gently push it upwards over his abdomen. what you see there sends your mind reeling.

a hideous Y incision from his abdomen up to the start of his neck.

an autopsy scar.

only, somethings wrong. the wound has already healed; the pale scar tissue is much too rough to be fresh, even. so, this scar had to be a few years old, at least. you stare, equal parts perplexed and horrified, sitting back on your buttocks with one, blood stained hand clasping over your mouth. you feel like crying, or screaming, or vomiting. maybe all three.

just, what the hell had happened to Jason since you’d last seen him?

“Of all the places for you to hide, you picked the most obvious.” a familiar voice breaks through your thoughts, pulling you back to the gruesome reality before you, and your head snaps up to see the figure leaned against the door jamb. “You really are desperate, aren’t you, J?” you didn’t have time to try and decipher what he meant. you didn’t care to.

“Dick?” you ask, hopefulness returning. Jason’s adoptive older brother had his arms crossed over his broad chest, but his pitiful gaze was almost a mockery of sympathy. “W— what’s wrong with him?” you asked, looking back to Jason, who was groaning as he lays back against the floor.

Dick quirks a brow, watching Jason writhe. “He’s dying.” he replied, jarringly flippant.

“What?” you snap, voice breaking over the realization that he must be right. Jason was freezing, he couldn’t keep anything down, and he could hardly hold the weight of his own body up. “No…” you sit up on your knees, reaching out to pet his icy forehead, but he turns away from you with an incoherent moan. you look back to Dick, biting down on your lip, “there’s nothing we can do?”

“Well, there is something.” Dick purrs, shifting his weight as he stands up straighter, willowy digits curling around the door frame. he glares into the doorway, staring you down like a lion stalking a very clueless gazelle. “I can help him.��

“Really?”

Dick nods, “Of course. Do you want my help?”

“Y—“ you gasp, peering down at Jason. he’s grabbed your nightshirt with both hands. “Jay?”

“Don’t…” his voice is hardly audible, and you have to hunch forward, getting as close to his lips as possible.

“What?”

Dick’s jaw tightened, gripping the doorframe tighter, he calls your name in a chilling, singsong voice. “You’re wasting time. And my brother is dying in your arms. Say it.” he urged, crystalline gems sparkling.

you frown, confused, looking from Jason to Dick and back again. you wished Jason was strong enough to finish his thought, but he couldn’t even keep his eyes from rolling back behind his lids. “Yes,” you said, finally, looking up at Dick with wet eyes, “please come help him.”

a low and wicked rumbling vibrates within Dick’s throat as he quirks a brow, and his fingers dig deeper into the frame, splintering wood from the sheer force. he then swaggers inside with a pleased sigh. “What a good girl you are.” he crooned, traipsing closer; his lips were stretched into a demonic grin, “Very, very stupid, but a good girl nonetheless.”

you blink, confused, watching his legs— they’re eye level to you as he encircles you. “What are you—“

“No wonder baby brother likes you so much,” reaching forward, his fist wraps around your neck, pulling you to your feet with a strangled choke. you stumble backwards, both hands coming up to claw at his wrist when he yanks you back against his solid chest, “he wouldn’t feed with me because he was holding out. Saving himself for his pretty, little high school crush.”

feed? you squirm, grunting as you try to wiggle free of his grip, but he’s so much stronger than you, escape is impossible. “Let go!”

Dick chuckles, lips caressing your jaw as he speaks, “I won’t lie, Jay, I’m surprised you were able to resist this one. I bet you can hear her heart from all the way over there, can’t you?” his fingers dig into your vulnerable flesh, squeezing your windpipe until you gag, and he plants a soft kiss against your cheek, “Listen to how fast it’s thumping!” he exclaims, giddy, “Like a little drum.” pressing his cheek to smush against yours, he coos out a taunt, “Are you scared when I squeeze your fragile neck?”

you nod, gulping swallows of air that burn against your windpipe when they’re caught by his fist.

“Leave her… out of this…” it’s Jason who speaks, now, struggling to push himself off the floor. he slipslides in blood and water puddles around him. “Leave her alone.”

“Jason, he—“ you start to call for him, but Dick’s other hand clamps tight over your mouth, and he shushes you.

“Shh,” he hisses against your face, before he looks to his adoptive brother, “leave her out of it? Oh, no, Jason, you’re the one that involved her. The second you showed up at her doorstep.” you can feel one forefinger drag against your throat, the pad surprisingly soft and chilly over your pulse point. “You didn’t come here just to starve to death on her living room floor, did you? You were going to fuck her, feed off her, hell, maybe even turn her, weren’t you?”

feed off you?

turn you?

your eyes widen, pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. but they’re shaping into a realization that you didn’t think was possible. you stare at your friend, who’d gotten to his knees, now, but that’s where he stayed— slouching on his knees in front of your trembling legs. his eyes glide over your bare skin, stained with blood that didn’t belong to you. you knew now it didn’t belong to him, either. they linger there, on your thighs, his eyes glowing dim like before.

“Yeah.” was all Jason says in return.

your whole world feels as if it’s been flipped on its head.

Dick’s laughing with wicked amusement, holding his palm tight to your mouth to muffle your squealing, “You won’t take any of my playthings because you want your own, is that it?” another kiss to your cheek and Dick’s hand slides from your mouth down over your body, menacing and slow.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you cry out; it’s the first thought to reach your lips as you squirm and push against him.

“I’m not going to kill you, silly girl. At least, not yet.”

“Dick.” Jason warns, baring unusually sharpened teeth. fangs.

his brother groped at you as his hand travels south, before he gathers the night shirt in his fist and pulls it up, exposing your quivering thighs and cotton panties. your legs snap together, and you whimper, humiliated. “Go ahead, Jay,” he urges, “bite her.”

Jason stares at the exposed flesh, clean and soft, and you could practically see his mouth watering as he inches closer. “N—no…” you whine, kicking at him. you feel a bare foot connect with his chest, but it doesn’t do anything to hold him back.

“Uh uh,” Dick mumbled, giving your beck a squeeze, “you kick again and I’ll snap this pretty neck of yours.” you freeze, croaking out a weak whine of submission. “Good girl. You wanted me to help Jason, didn’t you?”

with tears welling up in your eyes, you nod as best you can, and his grip on your neck loosens, just enough for you to be able to breathe again.

“Then, stand still and let him have you.”

meanwhile, Jason has grabbed hold of your legs and pried them apart, pressing his knees between your feet to keep them spread open so he can force his way between them, nuzzling his face into your thigh.

“Jason, please…” you choke out, shuddering when his frozen lips press to the warmth of your thigh. you can already feel the sharp edge of his fangs dragging along the supple flesh, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it, and a pathetically helpless yelp erupts from your lips when they sink in, with absolutely no resistance from your silken skin. you want to scream and kick, do anything you can to get him off of you, but you know Dick will make good on his promise to kill you, so you sob softly, watching through bleary eyes as your childhood friend starts to pull blood from you up to the surface of the pin prick wounds. it bubbles up in thick globs to soak his lips, and the sound of his slurping makes your head spin. “Jay…”

“I’m getting a bit jealous here, baby doll,” Dick croons, releasing your throat in exchange for a tight fist at the crown of your head, tilting it to one side to expose your sore throat to him, “watching how much he’s savoring the taste of your blood, hearing you moan for him like the perfect, little pet. Makes me want a taste, myself…”

“N—no, please, don’t…” it was hard to keep still with the tip of Jason’s nose bumping against your panties as he moaned, gurgling and dribbling your blood over his chin and on to little droplets on the floor. as much as you don’t want it to, the pain feels almost euphoric, and your body juts forward to stimulate your swelling clit against his nose bridge.

you’d hoped neither have noticed, but both seem to react. Jason grunting as he pushes his face flush against the damp patch in your panties, latching on to a fresh locale to drink from, breaking new skin, both hands come up to dig his cruel fingers into your bloody thighs.

“Don’t?” Dick repeats, mocking, as he lets go of your shirt to push his hand under the waistband of your panties instead. you cry out in surprise, two svelte fingers rubbing your slit, teasing your slick. “You’re fucking soaking,” he teases, his fangs nicking your throat, just enough to draw a single drop of blood to the surface, which he swipes away with his tongue, “you don’t need to be ashamed that you like it, a good bloodslut always does.” savoring the taste of your blood on his tongue, he groans, hooking his fingers into you like an anchor, before he bites down, fangs gliding as easily as they may softened butter.

the tears have broken the barrier of your ducts and streak your cheeks, one hand holding on to his wrist when he starts to pump his fingers deep inside, and the other trying to push Jason’s head from between your legs. the only problem is that Jason had already taken so much of your blood that you felt woozy, and your strength was all but diminished, so you can do little to fight the supernatural monsters off. with the two of them pulling from you, you can’t help but sag back against Dick’s chest, whimpering in forced submission. warm, liquid rubies dribble down over your clavicle and soak into the neckline of your nightshirt, and you can hear him moaning and slurping in your ear.

you moan, unable to hold it back, when his digit tips curl to brush against your sweet spot. it’s getting harder and harder to try and ignore how good his skilled fingers feel, spreading you open, prodding deep. your knees feel like jelly; you know you’ll collapse when you cum.

Jason has pulled away, panting and lapping at the blood on his lips, but his hands have found the waistband of your ruined panties, and are working them down your thighs, his practically snarling with desire when you’re exposed; Dick’s fingers refuse to stop, even when your back arches. the younger of the two finds his strength, and pulls himself to his feet, ripping at his clothes until he’s completely bare in front of you, face drenched in your blood, muscles rippling and cock throbbing and hard. the visage is horrifying and beautiful, as are his gleaming eyes when he grabs your face, pulling you in for a sloppy, sticky kiss. you whimper, trying to turn away— all you can taste is blood. your blood. Jason calls your name, thick with lust, and pulls your face back towards him. “Look at me.” he sounds desperate again, but there’s an edge in his voice; an authoritative tear. you obey, wet eyelashes sticking together when your gaze flickers up towards him, and instantaneously, you’re trapped in his stare, mesmerized. “Kiss me.” he demands, and you’re too compelled to submit that your mind goes completely and utterly blank.

what did he do to you?

all you want is to obey, to please him.

leaning forward, you kiss at his lips, slurping on the blood and smearing it over your own face. Jason seems pleased enough, hands pulling at your nightshirt to rip it apart until it hangs in pitiful shreds at your sides, and his palms envelop your breasts. he kneads, roughly, before his head dips, tongue hanging out from his mouth to catch a stream of blood leaking from the seal of Dick’s lips on the wound on your neck. “You’re so fucking sweet. Just like sugar.”

“Sweeter than sugar.” Dick chimes in, clearly having had his fill of your blood, too, he presses bloody kisses over the wound, “And I’d bet it’s not just her blood. Little whore is about to cum, I can feel her cunt squeezing my fingers.” as if to prove his point, those wicked fingers stuffed inside of your cunt jackhammer against you until you feel as if you’re about to explode.

you mewl, dazed, and pull back to rest the crown of your head against Dick’s clavicle. coming undone has never felt as intense as it does right now, with Jason watching Dick finger fuck you so mercilessly that your body convulses against the rough treatment. you close your eyes tight, breath coming in furious, little puffs, toes curling. you whine in ecstasy, hips rocking until the orgasm takes hold of you and renders you completely incapacitated. your nails dig into Dick’s wrist, but even as you claw at him, he doesn’t even budge. “Look at her go!” he chortles, “That was a big one, wasn’t it?” nuzzling his nose against your ear he kisses along your lobe, and you shiver, nodding with your eyes still closed. “Hope we didn’t break you already,” he mutters, pulling his sticky fingers free, giving your sensitive core a couple of cruel spanks with his palm. you jerk under each one, unable to catch your breath to make any substantial noise except for pathetic wheezing.

your lids weigh a thousand pounds at least, making it damn near impossible to open them, until you feel Jason lifting your legs, your feet rising from the floor. “She’s not broken yet,” Jason says, hooking your limp legs over his hips as he pulls you to his chest. Dick allows it, releasing you into his brother’s arms, and you fall forward against him. “Just a little bit cumdrunk, a little bit drained.” his strong hands then careen to support your ass as he spreads you open, suspended in his arms, to spear your folds with the head of his cock. you both moan in unison, his much stronger. your hands push against his shoulders, much too sensitive to take his entirety, but he isn’t giving you a choice as he thrusts upwards and pushes your body down simultaneously, filling you hilt-deep with one buck of his hips. “Fuck,” he growls, baring his blood-stained fangs, “she’s already clenching like crazy.” you can feel it, too, the way your walls spasm against the girthy intruder, refusing to open up any more than he’s willing to force you to.

“Sounds like you need to stretch her out,” Dick was saying, and even in your dazed state, you could practically hear the grin on his face, “unless, you’d rather I do it for you.” he offers, “I’ll ruin her, break in that tight, little pussy so you can just slide right in.”

“Fuck you,” Jason barks, pushing your body upwards so that he nearly slips from your body and then bringing you down on to him harder than before, as if he were making a point to his older brother; he was perfectly capable of snapping you in two if he so desired. “I’ll break her myself.”

“Jay… son…” you moaned, his name broken into weak syllables as you bounce, helplessly impaled on his cock. you couldn’t think of anything but how intense the sensation of his brutal fucking was. he practically slammed you down to his base each time he rutted, and the position does absolutely nothing to keep his thick tip from kissing your cervix.

your climax comes in a matter of moments, much quicker than the first and much more intense. your arms fall, limp, and dangle at your sides; you can do nothing but slump forward, squeal into his chest, and enjoy the feeling of being completely and utterly decimated.

“The little thing has already gone completely dumb on your cock.” Dick snickers, pressing himself to your back. you feel nothing but icy skin and realize that he’s stripped himself down, too. you bite down on your lip to muffle a moan of anticipation. “Absolutely fucking pathetic.”

would they take you together?

you hated how badly you wanted to feel them both inside of you.

Dick grabs you by the hair again, pulling your head back like a rag doll, and out of the corner of your teary eyes, you can see his bloody, evil grin. “Open up, baby doll.” you do, your jaw hanging slack, and he shoves three fingers into your mouth. you wince at first, especially when he forces them to the back of your throat, and you gargle out a tiny sound of discomfort. drool covers his fingers and dribbles out from both corners of your mouth. “Attagirl, go ahead and be a sloppy, little slut, because you’re going to want to give me plenty of lube to fuck that little asshole.” wrenching his hand free, you spit more on to his fingers and his palm when presented with it, before he drops it to envelop his cock, slathering it in your saliva and giving it a couple of furious pumps.

when he guides the tip of his manhood to your ring, you lurch forward with a nervous whine, but free hand flees to grip your shoulder, twisting you back and pulling you back towards him. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?” he teases. even Jason has slowed to a slow, shallow thrust to let his elder join in. Dick smears you with his tip before he worms his way inside, grunting with impish delight when you groan. “That’s a tight fit, isn’t it, baby doll?” he sneers against your cheek, tongue sliding out to flick at your drying tears on the apple of your cheek. once he’s snugly inside, his other hand grips one of your arms at the elbow, keeping a tight grip on the opposite shoulder, and falls into a ruthless rhythm in seconds. you nod, squinting, back arching now that you’re sandwiched between them, your moans turning more shrill and hoarse with each thrust. “You’re going to have to get used to it, because I’m going to fuck your ass every single day just to hear these pretty, little screams.”

Jason has started pounding against you, too, moaning under his breath as his head dips so he can litter your jiggling breasts with bites. you were much too overstimulated to know what you were even screaming for anymore. was it how good he felt, his protruding veins rubbing against your sensitive inner walls, or was it because of his fangs cutting into your skin, leaving a peppering of stinging, paired pricks. or maybe it was Dick, who was slamming into you from behind with so much ferocity that you were certain your body couldn’t take it— you were going to simply break in half of the brothers kept up this rough treatment.

even still, you felt a familiar bubbling in your belly. you couldn’t believe it. you were going to cum again.

Jason is the first to notice, both hands sliding up to dig his fingers into your hips until he leaves paling imprints in your flesh, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses in pleasure, “keep tightening up for me, baby, gonna make me cum in this little, fucking vice of a pussy—!”

“I—I can’t!” you beg; surely the next orgasm would shatter you, and your poor, hazy mind would fracture, “I can’t take— another— please…”

“We don’t care.” Dick growls in your ear, and you shudder at just how devilish he sounds, voice ripe with pleasure, “You’ll cum as many times as we want you to. Scream, cry, beg all you want, but you belong to us, now.” you whine, hands trembling, the symphony of sensations sending you over the edge just as Dick said you would, and you beg for mercy the entire time. mercy that neither of them had for you. “That’s more like it.”

your fervent, needy clenching had clearly pushed Jason to his own orgasm, because he was calling your name amidst the most animalistic of grunting, burying himself as deep as he could go until you could feel the shape of him against your lower belly, and he released. what was meant to be warm and comforting filled your belly with ice, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his arousal dropped out of you when he pulls free, glazing your bloody thighs. then, he drops your legs and steps awake. you felt hollowed out, and you want to double over and grip your belly, but Dick wouldn’t let you, even as Jason stumbled back and fell on to the couch, his cock twitching, lain over his thigh and shiny with his and your essences, cocktailed. you expected he might pant, if he needed to breathe, but instead, those clear glowing eyes watched you be destroyed by another.

even Jason at his roughest was no contest to how Dick was breaking you in. you practically dangled off of his cock, somewhere between conscious and not, as he drove himself into you mercilessly for several more minutes, moaning the most vulgar expletives you’d ever heard.

what’s worse?

you were still wet.

you were trembling and weak, eyes unable to stay open, and you looked as if you’d been attacked by a battalion of spiders by the fang wounds that littered your poor frame, you leaked cum, and you couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore, but you were still so aroused; so tickled that his relentless plowing was more than torture. it felt incredible. you still mewled with your mouth open, tongue hanging out, eyes rolled back. and Dick loved every moment of it. “Just one, little slumber party, and she’s already braindead.” he snorts, grabbing both of your shoulders to hold you in place as he pounds away, “You picked an easy one, Jay.”

“She’s a good girl,” Jason replied, husky, as he leans forward, staring into your eyes, “my good girl.”

“Don’t get greedy.” Dick warns, though the muscles in his jaw tense. he pulsates within you, and you know he must be close. “This little bloodslut is ours. Isn’t that right, baby?” one of his hands glides upwards, snatching a fistful of your hair to pull your head up, holding it steady.

you nod, breathless, your entire body rippling from the force of his fucking. “Y— yes—!”

your humiliating, hardly coherent shriek of a response must’ve shredded what was left of Dick’s composure, because he howls in pleasure, pummeling your abused body a couple more times before he shoves you off of him. with a soft thud and a raspy yelp, you hit the floor and roll over on to your back, quivering, and Dick stands over you, fucking his own fist like a man possessed. he moans, eyes closing and head tilting back, and streamers of his release paint your marked chest, mixing with the drying blood and spit. “See?” he croons, after he’s done with his masterpiece, and squats down to grab your face, his thumb and forefinger hollowing your cheeks as he turns you to face Jason on the couch, “Ours.”

you blink, slow, but your eyes are too glassy to truly focus on either of them, your body completely spent. if Dick wasn’t holding you up by your cheeks, you wouldn’t collapsed on the floor, and most likely drifted into a much needed rest.

“What do we do with her?” Jason asks, uncertain, but watching you close.

Dick laughs, as if Jason had asked the obvious. “We pack her up like a pretty, cum covered sack lunch and take her with us. Come on, tell me you don’t want to see your little toy waiting for you on her knees, fuckholes wet and ready, back at the manor every night?” he lets go of you, allowing you to fall back, chest heaving, body twitching.

“I… I want to go,” you babble, weakly, “I want to go with you…”

“You must truly be fucked completely brainless to want to go home with two bloodthirsty vampires whose only use for you is fucking and eating you whenever we want.” Jason snapped, getting to his feet, he stomps over, a slow and devious smirk playing at the corners of his lips. maybe Dick was rubbing off on him. “Then again, I could get used to seeing you like this. Completely fucking ruined.”

you stare up to both of them, and a simper of your own tickles your cheeks.

you were actually excited.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #dark!jason todd #red hood imagine #red hood smut #red hood x you #red hood x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #dark!dick grayson #dark!nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing smut #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing #Jason Todd #red hood #dc imagine #dc x you #dc x reader #dark!dc #dark dc

[topersevereassentiment]

What are the salient features of Asriel, post-canon, that keep us from "saving" him from life alone in the Underground?

He's soulless (a practical problem),

he'll soon return to being a flower (a practical problem) and would prefer that you think of him like this rather than Flowey (a personal and interpersonal problem), and

he's decided to stay and tend the grave of the fallen child (and this is not really a problem at all; rather, a decision, which the boundary conditions of Undertale require us to respect).

There is a lot of UT post-canon fic out there which treats all these as practical problems. Frisk can just get a soul from somewhere, throw Alphys technobabble or soul arcanobabble at the body issue; get Flowey in therapy; and... also get Flowey in therapy for that last one, because his decision isn't really legitimate, in save-the-goat stories. It's self-harm. Which, personally, is both understandable and missing the point of one of the game's core themes: no matter how many times you restart the story, there are things you can't do; you are not getting a 100% Complete Perfect Pacifist where even Asriel is saved, and it's okay to be wistful about it, but you still need to put down the controller eventually. Getting him to the surface happens a lot in fic, because we all want the goldenest ending, but it could never happen in canon and we just have to live with it. It's thematically potent and I'd lose a lot of respect for Undertale's commitment to its story if you could circumvent it.

(Incidentally, this feels to me like it stems from the same ideas as making "* I have places to be" the wrong answer, a giving-in to Frisk's self-sacrificing, self-disregarding nature which must be corrected. Sometimes, you have to let people live and make their own decisions, outside the boundaries of the story's frame. Your perspective only goes so far.)

...now, fluffier, more sympathetically-traumatized Asriel, on the other hand...!

Ralsei's woes in Deltarune are very visibly the same kind of isolation as what Asriel's dealing with at the end of Undertale, but a) it's worse (a whole lifetime of waiting in a very deliberately empty, lifeless, three-screen-long kingdom) and b) he's stuck there for purely practical reasons. Darkners can't enter the Light World without becoming objects. He never made a decision to be here.

It's not something we can technobabble our way out of right now, but we're only in Chapter 2, right? We can save him, in a way we can't save Asriel: the deadlock we can't resolve has been removed; we don't really have to think about his preferences any more, because the preferences that kept us from helping him and left him stuck in the Underground I mean Dark World are just gone.

His issues are also much more obvious from the get-go, and seem designed to be something we talk him out of – not Asriel's decision to stay by his lost friend's grave, with a weight of meaning and feeling behind it, but hero worship, subservience, religious dedication to the Prophecy and self-image issues, all clear and visible dysfunctions. Giving Asriel therapy has left the realm of fanfiction and wish fulfillment and become part of canon... and the real disagreements we had with UT!Asriel over what he was and meant and deserved have become simple roadblocks for DR!Asriel whoops I mean Ralsei, things we have to help him through. Practical problems where the solution is friendship speech + therapy.

To make a slightly heavy-handed comparison, Ralsei saying we exist to serve Lightners and gratefully referring to himself as Kris's lackey is Anthy saying I'm the Rose Bride because I like it. It's the kind of reason we're inclined to reflexively overrule without working to deal with it at its root. Ralsei is Asriel, minus the irreconcilable and bittersweet parts, someone whose objections to being helped have either been removed or simplified down until we can feel good about disabusing him of them. He's our wish fulfillment in the way that candy on trees might be Susie's and a city of shining lights might be Noelle's and Giant Arcade Consoles might be Berdly's: an Asriel you can help, who you can make go to therapy and deal with the problems that keep him from caring for himself; who'll shut up, comply and let himself be saved.

...so the fact that Kris – whose personal issues are opaque, complex, and frustrating; who appears to be actively hiding parts of their life and motives from us; who clearly doesn't want our help or an improved social life at the expense of their agency – finds him so distasteful might not just be because he's a parody of their brother or Secretly Evil or whatever. If Ralsei is "the kid they're supposed to be" it's not just his fluff and horns!

#deltarune #undertale #deltarune meta #undertale meta #ralsei #asriel #kris dreemurr

[sombrashe]

first kisses and flashbacks

this is a repost because my original blog was deleted

relationship(s) König x Horangi

content angst, flashbacks being triggered, fluff

"König?"

Horangi's voice is quiet as she shakes the mountain of a man in front of him.

"König, please wake up."

His Vibrato dropped to a whine. The sleeping man seemed to take notice and awoke with his eyes wide.

"König, it's me... it's Horangi."

He's soft with him, his nails rubbing circles into the man's bicep.

"Wie spät ist es?"

He takes a moment, trying to remember the German he was taught.

"null zwei null null."

König's hand wraps itself around his own, the cool of his flesh heated by the other man's. He fought back the rising heat to his cheeks.

"I'm sorry to wake you... you're the only one I can trust right now."

König sits up, his accent thick with sleep, "Nightmare? Why come to me?"

His hand is wrapped in comfortable heat.

"I can't go to anyone else; I don't dream about them."

König pauses at his revelation.

"You dream about me?"

Horangi shakes his head.

"You bring me comfort. That is how I know to trust you."

"Sit down."

Horangi does as he's told, the man clicking on his lamp, illuminating his features. The light caught on his hooked nose, the bump casting shadows as he moved. His gaze drifts lower, and he passes over the part of his lip that was once missing.

"Take my hands."

His gaze drifts to the palms offered to him, defenseless as they raise their fragile flesh to him. Breathing, he clasps his hands against the other man's. His heart hammers as reality shifts away into a nightmare, fear invading his every sense as König takes notice. Typically König would remove himself and gently talk Horangi down to bring him back to the present.

"Hey... Hong-jin, look at me. I need you to realize you're having a flashback. Listen to me."

Horangi's eyes were unfocused, and König struggled with what to say. His grip on König's hands forces him to keep his spot in front of the terrified man.

"Hong-jin, do you see my lips moving? Focus on my lips. Hear me breathing. Come on."

Horangi's breathing deepens as his eyes focus and start to brighten once more.

"Can you see me? See where you are?"

He nods, exhaustion crashing over his body like a tidal wave.

"I could feel blood, smell it on your hands."

König flinches, and despite it, Horangi continues, "I saw you... you were dead again."

He feels his fingertips start to tingle, the pain of Horangi's grip settling deep into his joints.

"I'm not dead. Remember? You were the one who saved me? Got me back to the medic."

He nods again, the only action he seems to be able to make in the disorienting present.

"I saved you... got you back to the medic. Yes, yes. I remember that."

His face started to flush, and König sighed in relief at the pink hue covering the man before his cheeks.

"Good, now. My hands."

Horangi looked down and slowly lifted his deadlocked fingers, one by one, until they were pulled away from König's now bruised flesh. His skin was light, and he watched as blood pooled under its delicate nature to form dark bruises on the spot.

"I'm sorry, König. I didn't even realize."

His voice was soft. He was always shit at keeping a poker face, so he allowed it to drop only in the safety of the taller man. He refused to cry in front of anyone but himself in the mirror. He found it much too embarrassing to do it in front of his teammates. He didn't know if it was the exhaustion, the sudden intrusion of his flashback, the way he felt secure in König's presence, or a combination of all three, but tears seemed to wet the expanse of his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I should go. This must be weird for you."

König seems confused at the outburst of emotions from the normally stoic man.

"Don't go. You can sleep in here. I don't mind."

He pauses halfway up before straightening himself.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't wish to intrude. I understand if you're trying to be nice."

König stands and towers over the Horangi, his warm hands finding purchase on his cheeks. His eyes widen as his natural pink flush deepens over his nose and settles into his cheeks.

"You won't be intruding, I promise. It would be nice to have someone else in here for once. It might help ease the nightmares."

His smile is bright, and Horangi leans closer. He doesn't know why; he's never had feelings for anyone. His fear from before and rigorous schedule after keeping him occupied. He notices as König leans down to a better height, his back hunched, and Horangi's newfound courage washes over him like sunlight on a sunflower.

"König, can I kiss you?"

He hated the whine in his voice, but there was no other way to prove just how needy he was.

"Ja."

Horangi leans in fully, their lips connecting, and he feels something explode in his chest. His arms are wrapped around the taller man's neck, his fingers finding purchase in the soft brown hair at the nape. König's hands squeeze his cheek, his thumb feeling the ridged bumps of his exposed teeth.

He didn't pull away; instead, he deepened the kiss. König's tongue swiped over his teeth, and he greedily opened his mouth. Their tongues swiped over teeth and explored the pallet of each other's mouth. He couldn't get enough of König's sharp canines. The feeling of them roughly cutting into his tongue has him pressing himself against König. Finally, they pulled away; both men flushed pink as a small line of spit connected them. Panting König looked into his eyes. They were soft and lidded.

"That was my first kiss since middle school."

Horangi was soft as he licked his lips. König nodded in understanding, his hands leaving Horangi's cheeks.

"I think we should get you into bed. You look exhausted, Hong-jin."

Hong-jin smiles; he doesn't know when he smiled last.

"승인."

He doesn't need to, but he lets König place a gentle hand on his waist. The man guided him to the other side of the bed. He wants to relax into the touch. He wants to rest his head on the other man's chest and fall asleep to the sound of his heart.

He watches with bated breath as König leans down to shift the blankets around. He crawls into the cooler side of the bed, the feeling helping calm the heat overtaking his body. He's surprised when König wraps him in the blankets, and he feels like a child again. Blinking up at him, he can't hide the dumbfounded look that overtakes his face.

"You're putting me to bed?"

He watches as König becomes sheepish, his fingers finding purchase against the scar left from his cleft lip surgery.

"Sorry, I've never shared a bed with someone before. I don't know what is customary."

Horangi nods and takes the warm man's hand, "I haven't either, and you're exhausted too. You need to lay down and go to sleep before sunrise."

König yawns loudly and, with a stretch. It makes Horangi feel safe. He feels the dip in the bed as his opposite settles. He takes a moment to think of how to word his next question, he doesn't want to come off strong, but he also doesn't want to waste the moment.

"König, you can say no, but will you hold me?"

He doesn't have to wait for an answer. König's large arms gather him onto his chest. His ear is against König's chest, and his heart slows as his eyes drift lower.

"Light, 오빠."

König blinks a few times before reaching over, his fingers finding purchase against the metal string and engulfing the room in black. Horangi finally falls asleep, the first real sleep he's gotten since he was a child.

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #korangi #konig x horangi #horangi x könig #konig mw2 #kim horangi hong jin #operator writes

[katiesdailystruggle]

Okay yall. I quit trying to make this perfect. I'm well aware it's a little rough around the edges, and I'm also well aware not everyone will like it. Nonetheless, here’s my community service to the sickie bangtan lovers for this year <3

Drabble fic is below the cut. Thanks for waiting patiently! I truly hope you enjoy this pure indulgence lmao.

Title: one stormy night

Word count: 2.2k

Ship: namjinkook - caretakers namjin, sickie jungkook

Tropes: sickfic, fluff, lil bit of snz, basic flu symptoms (the good stuff ya know)

Set in a random AU where Namjin are lovers who own a small shop, Jin is a healer, Namjoon is a mage, and Jungkook is just struggling, ill stranger who manages to fall head over heels in love with his saviors, whilst namjin also fall hard lol.

Seokjin was startled abruptly at the sound of the iron knocker pounding the front door, pausing his job of drawing the drapes for the evening. He and his lover, Namjoon, shared a small cottage in the middle of the woods that was outfitted into a potion shop for the neighboring villagers.

It was well passed their closing time, and Jin knew they didn’t have any appointments on file this late in the day. His stomach clenched with nerves as his gaze shifted to his husband’s usual position by the hearth. “I’ll get the door,” he softly said, making his way over to gently coax Namjoon back down to sit in the armchair. “You had a lot of spells today. Rest a while, I can handle this.”

It was getting late, he was exhausted from a long day’s work, and he didn’t know who was pounding on the door. It would be easy to become frustrated and get rid of whoever beckoned them, but Jin wasn’t heartless. It was storming outside, and maybe someone needed help. The healer in him wouldn’t let someone in need fend for themselves, and he would much rather waste some time than have regrets in his consciousness.

Pulling his evening robes further across himself to help defend the evening chill, Jin released the deadlock and the binding spell on the door, cautiously opening it a crack to peer outside. An unfamiliar silhouette greeted him, though it was difficult to perceive little else due to the heavy rainfall.

“Good evening, stranger,” Jin’s eyes ghosted over the heavily soaked man before him, an oversized hood covering his features dripping rapidly as the rain continued to pour down relentlessly. “I’m afraid we haven't met before, is there something I can do for you?”

“Please,” came the drenched strangers’ reply. “I’m just trying to make it to eastern lands.” Jin took mental note of the thick rasp and nasally tone in his voice. “I just need a roof to block this storm for an hour or so. I’m very weary from traveling.” The stranger didn’t make any move to invade their cottage of his own volition, and he was leaning heavily against their meager porch post for support to stay upright.

The poor dear. Squinting in a fruitless attempt to see better through the storm, Jin took note of the stranger’s trembling frame, his soaked clothing underneath the heavy travel cloaks, and the poorly fitted boots on his feet. He’s been traveling for a long while, weeks at the very least.

“You’re welcome to come in and dry off for as long as you need,” a soft smile adorned Jin’s features as he reached out to help support the traveler’s weak frame for the short distance inside. “We haven’t got much to offer in means of transportation to the east, but you must at least rest here a while. You’re soaked through.” A familiar pang of sympathy pulsed through his heart.

Jin’s own clothing was becoming rather damp just holding the stranger’s underarms, it couldn’t have been comfortable in the slightest to travel through this disastrous weather heavily weighed down by wet cloaks.

At the sound of the door shutting behind them, Namjoon stood up abruptly, eyes narrowed skeptically onto the hooded stranger, but he made no move to turn him away either. Jin nodded in silent thanks for his husband’s trust, as the two made their way slowly across the foyer. "A traveler needs a place to rest tonight. Help me tend to him, Joonie?"

Catching him by surprise as he was speaking, Jin nearly tripped over himself when the stranger suddenly bent over, a series of thick, painful coughs erupting from deep within his chest. As he fought to pull in a deep breath, Jin gently tugged back his hood to better inspect the ailments plaguing him.

And - oh. What an absolute darling. The gentle scrunch of his nose, the soft doe eyes crinkled in irritation as the worst of the coughing fit passed. His cheeks were flushed from the cold air, and the fringe of his bangs dripped with rain water as they hung in front of his eyes. He was beautiful. Jin had only ever had eyes for Namjoon, but the sweet one before him brought up emotions bubbling within that he had not felt before. He always did get attached easily.

No matter though, he had a job to do, and the stranger needed medical attention regardless of his mysterious beauty. Jin was a professional, and he would tend to whatever ailment was present.

“That cough sounds awful, dear,” Jin spoke softly as he made to undo the poorly tangled cloak ties. “You can call me Jin-hyung, what would you like me to call you?”

“Jungkook is my name,” the little one managed to rasp out and Jin hardly concealed a wince at the painful sound of crackling phlegm in his throat. “I don’t mind what you call me though. I don’t have any means to pay, I’m sorry.”

Jungkook’s eyes were glistening with unshed emotion, and he was sniffling thickly, pawing at his nose and eyes desperately in obvious irritation.

Another pang of sympathy shot through Jin’s heart at the sight of tears, but before he could utter another word, Namjoon was already stepping around him to help Jungkook settle into an empty cot by the healer’s table. Jin easily recognized the look in the mage’s eyes as one of empathy and adoration. They were both so utterly hopeless.

“That’s quite alright, Jungkookie, you needn’t worry about such affairs,” Namjoon spoke in a soft whisper. “You can call me Namjoon hyung. Just lie back, and we will take good care of you. I promise.”

A mixed array of confusion and relief flooded Jungkook’s sweet features, and he blinked several times, allowing a few stray tears to trickle down his cheeks. “Thank you hyungs, I’m afraid I’m not well,” he briefly paused speaking as his breathing caught roughly, a small trembling hand still rubbing harshly at his nose. “It’s been weeks and this head cold just isn’t going away. My travels have just made everything w-worse…oh…e-excuse me,” His lovely eyelids fluttered shut, as several productive sneezes ripped out of his chapped nose, chest heaving wildly in a desperate attempt to quell his breathing back to normal. Jungkook let out a shuttering sigh afterward, teary eyes darting away from the healer every so shyly. “Pardon me, please. I can’t seem to stop sneezing.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Jin cooed gently, reaching out to wipe his messy nose with a handkerchief. “Sounds like a little more than a nasty cold to me. I’m a trained healer, and Namjoonie here is a mage. I’ll check you over and see if we can’t get some medicine and hot soup into you by the end of the hour.” His gentle, calculated hands were tenderly pulling Jungkook’s soaked downshirt off, Namjoon already having started freeing him of his trousers.

“We need to get you out of these wet clothes and bundled up to dry by the fire,” Jin wrapped a soft, cotton towel around Jungkook’s trembling frame, and the relief on his face was so genuinely innocent, that he felt his own emotions stirring up. “Joonie, dear, if you wouldn’t mind putting the kettle to boil, fetching me some blankets and a clean nightshift, please.”

Jungkook was finding it harder to pay attention to Jin’s words than it should’ve been. Time seemed to slow down as he lost the ability to function properly. His breathing was becoming labored and that ever-present aching in his chest was becoming a harsh sting now. When did it get so warm? Or was it cold? He couldn’t tell anymore.

He had begun to slouch so low into himself, and his eyes were starting to close tiredly. Jin gently pressed the back of his hands to Jungkook’s cheeks and neck, humming softly at the detection of his obvious temperature. The poor dear, so very exhausted from traveling ill. “It’s quite alright if you fall asleep now, sweetheart. Just lie back down, I’ll wake you when I have medicine for you to take.”

As if by order of Jin’s permission, Jungkook’s consciousness slowly slipped into a light doze, long past the point of exhaustion. His breathing evened down to labored short puffs of stuffy air, nose scrunched up ever so sweetly into a sleepy, ticklish expression. It only had been movements, but Jin’s heart was entirely stolen.

At the younger’s slip into a fitful sleep, Jin made quick work of checking his vitals, throat, nose, and ears - getting a specific reading on his rising temperature, a worrying one, no less. Namjoon was back a few moments after he finished pulling a thick comforter up over Jungkook’s sleeping form.

“Water just started boiling hyung,” he whispered as he placed a stack of wool blankets and a silken shift on the armchair. “Want me to fill a basin of hot water and get some ailment tea brewed?”

Jin’s eyes softened even further at his lover, unable to look stressed even in the face of the ill young one beside himself. “That would be lovely, Joonie, thank you. Help me dress him first?”

-------------------------------------------------------

Jungkook’s head felt heavy, dizzyingly so. There was also a nauseating spin of the room from lying horizontally as his ill body fought to stay sleeping. He didn’t know how long he’d been dozing off, time was passing unawares to him, though it didn’t feel near long enough before his consciousness was slipping back in. An irritating tickle was forming deep in his sinuses, whilst, unfortunately, his little nose scrunches were doing little to fight back. Having no wherewithal to cover, Jungkook released a flurry of wet, desperate sneezes into the firm chest next to him.

“Oh Jungkookie,” Namjoon softly cooed from above. “Blessings, you sound so poorly.” He was poorly, what a gods sent gift the hyungs shop was nearby. Sniffling desperately to contain the productive wetness that was now beneath his nose, Jungkook felt his eyes well up once more.

“My handkerchief is wet.” He whined softly, words muffled into the sweet hyung cradling him. He needed something to cover with, he needed to sneeze again. And what a tragedy it was indeed because the tickle persisted despite the fit he had just released previously. Damn, his ever-sensitive nose. Always getting in the way of comfort.

“I can’t blow my nose… and I need to…” He trailed off breathily, already starting to work his way into a hitch. A shuffling of movement briefly distracted his gasping speech, as his face was suddenly covered in a warm, large bundle of soft fabric. “Here, sweetie. All yours.” Jungkook felt Namjoon’s deep voice reverberate through his whole being, though perhaps that was also the fever chills shaking him through.

Noting he was now pressed against bare skin, not a cotton downshirt, his brain fumbled to keep up with the fact that he was presently leaking tears and mucus all over Namjoon’s shirt. He wasn’t thinking, the logical part of his brain long past gone, in the throes of his current predicament. If he had been, perhaps the prospect of using another man’s shirt in lieu of a handkerchief would’ve been embarrassing. One he had scarcely just met, no less. But he didn’t even have time for that. His eyes were watering, mouth falling open in desperate breaths, his nose burning ever so badly as it teased his need for release. Instead of granting him relief, though, the hitching just made him cough harshly, once again, all over Namjoon.

“Let’s get you in some dry clothes, sweetie,” Namjoon muttered, gently combing his hands through the young man’s hair. “I have a nice, warm nightshift right here for you.”

All Jungkook could seem to muster out was a small moan in response, shaky and once again, hitched, as he pawed at his nose in sleepy annoyance. “I know Jungkookie, almost there. I’m sorry, I know it’s chilly. Just gotta get this over your head now…there we go, left arm first, good boy.“ Was that Jin’s voice now? The feeling of cold air fading into warm silk on his skin caused a raspy whine to come out of his mouth before his thoughts even caught up. “It’s okay, it’s okay. All done.” Definitely Jin.

Despite the warm, dry clothing covering him now, chills racked his body relentlessly. It didn’t take but a few more hitching breaths before his face scrunched up in a defeated flurry of congested sneezes. “Bless you, little one. Come on, blow for me,” Jin whispered from his left, the down shirt coming back up to cover most of his face. Jungkook was ever obedient though, so he managed to huff out a thick blow at Jin's discretion. Gods this shirt was going to be so gross. Poor Namjoon. “There we go, all better. Good job, Jungkookie.” For someone whose shirt was now a makeshift hanky, Namjoon’s voice sounded awfully pleased with him.

A flush dusted his cheeks as he glanced up at both men in pure adoration, one not having to do with his fever. But the hyungs didn’t need to know that. Soft wool blankets were quickly wrapped around his shoulders, and he let out a relieved sigh when his feet were placed in a basin of hot water. The trembling didn’t stop, nor did the deep aches in his body, but the sudden warmth and Namjoon and Jin’s presence were enough to let him doze off for a while. He was safe. And for now, that was enough.

#sick jungkook #bts sickfic #bts sickfics #sickfic #caretaking #its hereeeee #i realize this might be disappointing #considering how long it took me lmao #but its my first fic since 2020 #so #im proud ig #pls let me know how it is #i crave validation lmao

[kurxo]

My preview for @tf-bigbang

I was given the opportunity to work with the amazing @bassomega // ArtificialTVirus for their fanfic entry this year featuring Starscream and Drift (Deadlock).

Please, please go read it when it drops.

#Maccadam #TF IDW #tf big bang #No seriously if you don't read it I WILL find you and there WILL be actions taken. 🤨☝️ #If you a real Decepticon fan you would read it. Just sayin.

[noodleblade]

Double Edged

Summary:

“It’s been a long time,” Ratchet murmured, his smile still there but softer, “I’m happy to see you here, finally finding your way.” Deadlock wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or scream.

Or, Drift's mtmte origins with Deadlock's cyberverse fate.

AO3 Link

“Aw, scrap,” Hot Rod said as he came to a complete stop in the middle of the hall, helm sweeping left and right. “‘Think I took us down the wrong hall. They really gotta color code this place.” The speedster turned, rubbing the center of his crest sheepishly. “Sorry, Drift, let me just check the map real quick and...”

Deadlock bit down the snarl building in his intake and gave Hot Rod a congenial smile instead, crossing his arms behind his back to hide his tightly clenched fists. 

“No worries,” he said, keeping his voice level, pleasant, and absent of the absolute infuriating rage in being made to follow this clueless, imbecile Autobot . He bottled that rage and locked it deep in his chassis, burrowed in his spark, where he always kept it. “Take your time.”

It would not do anyone good to lose it now. Not him, not Megatron and not his mission. Hot Rod was not worth it. Not yet . 

Deadlock could withstand the torment of this idiot for the sake of his mission. Infiltrating and spying on the Autobots was far too important to lose his cool over the annoying speedster. He would have to tolerate it and swallow his annoyance. It seemed as though Optimus Prime had insisted on Hot Rod showing Drift around and helping him get acquainted with the assembled crew. Deadlock had hoped it would be Bumblebee. He was equally as stupid and idiotic as Hot Rod, but rather than a misplaced sense of self-importance, Bumblebee was just gratingly friendly. It was marginally more tolerable. 

“Okay!” the flamed speedster exclaimed, spoiler perked up high as he clapped his hands together. “I think I figured it out. Wheeljack’s lab should be to the left and the second right.”

No, it is not . 

Deadlock swallowed down the correction and, in dismay, followed as Hot Rod continued to lead them down the wrong path, further prolonging this torturous excursion. 

He walked a half-step behind, humming in faux interest as Hot Rod rambled aimlessly, pointing out random rooms and features of the Arc as they took the long way to Wheeljack’s lab. 

Of course, Deadlock already knew all this information. Soundwave had given him a detailed schematic of the entire ship and each of its levels from the ventilation systems, down to the internal wiring. Deadlock had dedicated himself to memorizing every square micron of it, wasting away cycles prior to his infiltration to catalog every possible detail of importance. He could navigate the entire ship blind, if challenged.

Little did he know, the true challenge would be keeping his glossa pinned down as Hot Rod continuously takes every wrong turn. What was worse was that he doesn’t even seem to realize, too caught up in his blathering about…well, Deadlock wasn’t sure. He had tuned out the annoying Autobot at the beginning of the tour, only keeping his audials online for keywords like end, finished, over.

“So, that about wraps it up.” Another marked key phrase. “Any questions?” Hot Rod grinned at Deadlock with relaxed ease, leaning against the wall almost as if he was trying to strike a pose. Deadlock was not impressed. 

“No.” He hoped keeping his answers short and clipped would dissuade further conversation with the pesky Autobot.

“Cool, cool. I think that was everything. And all we have left is medbay. Medics were able to fit you in for a quick check up.”

“Check up?” Deadlock asked, hackles raised as he watched the flashy racer give him a questioning look. 

“Well, yeah? We all got to do it. Decepticons not big on overall health?” Hot Rod teased lightly.

Deadlock almost laughed. Almost. He held back the urge and gave Hot Rod a small, defensive shrug. “Not a lot of medics to begin with.” And the medics they did have had no right to call themselves medical professionals . He was thankful that his time with the Decepticons had left him fairly unscathed. Any injuries he had he took care of privately. He’d seen Shockwave’s work with Shadow Striker and didn’t relish the idea of a similar fate. He’d rather have himself offlined. 

Hot Rod at least had the decency to wince, dropping his smile for something more stricken. 

“Ah right. Well, it should go pretty quick. It’s just an intake so unless you got anything hiding under the plating, Ratchet will be done with you in less than twenty kliks.”

Deadlock froze, brakes hard locking without him even thinking. His engine stalled, optics blown wide.

“Ratchet?” There was a slight quiver to his voice. 

That name wasn’t on the intel reports. That name wasn’t on the crew manifest. That name wasn’t on any document he had received in his mission file. Soundwave wasn’t sloppy . A complete afthole, yes , but missing this information? Deadlock felt acid crawling up his intake as panic seared through his lines. 

“Yeah, he’s our chief medic. ‘Decided to join at the last minute so it's been a bit of a mess around here,” Hot Rod waved off, still walking ahead without realizing Deadlock had stopped at all. “Big ol’ crankshaft but he knows what he’s doing. He’s put everyone on this ship back together at least three times over so what he lacks in personality he makes up for it there I guess.” 

Hot Rod turned, blinking as he saw Deadlock still rooted in his spot fifteen paces back. 

“Oh, I guess you’ve heard about Ratch before? I can guarantee whatever the Decepticon reports say about him are over-exaggerated. He’s much more boring than that.”

That…that wasn’t it. Not by a long shot. But Deadlock took the blessed out and gave a shaky nod of his helm. He didn’t trust himself to speak, afraid of what would come out if he opened his mouth. 

“Well, come on,” Hot Rod waved him along. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get it over with.” As Deadlock fell into step with him, Hot Rod dropped his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but I get a little lightheaded whenever Ratchet takes out the needles.”

Needles were the least of his worries. Comically so. Deadlock had no fear of any medicinal treatment he may receive, but rather who was administering it. 

The walk to the medbay was horrifically short. Like a cruel curse, somehow Hot Rod took the shortest, simplest route. It was as if fate wanted to test Deadlock, to jeopardize his mission, his faith, his spark. 

All that time, all that energy. Deadlock had spent weeks agonizing over his mission. He had perfected everything down to the finest detail. He’d spent grueling cycles studying and memorizing every bit of intel he could grab his hands on. (He knew how Prowl liked his energon and spent a whole cycle learning about meteor surfing just in case Hot Rod brought it up.) He had gotten repainted, stripping back the accented black for shiny, bright white. It felt almost…foreign to be back to his default factory paint after so many years without it. It was crisp, clean, stark in a way it had never been when he had lived on the streets of the Dead End. 

He even adopted his old name. Drift . That had been…challenging. There was still the knee jerk response to bare his teeth and snap whenever anyone addressed him as such. He had gone through so much effort to rebuild himself, to shed off the tainted and stained plating of his past to go right back to it.

But it was temporary. It was for his mission. He had been chosen . Hand selected and deemed the best choice by Megatron himself. Not Starscream, not Shockwave, not even Soundwave. Deadlock was the mech to earn Megatron’s complete and utter trust with this mission and he’d be damned if he did not execute it to absolute perfection.

Even if he meant he’d have to face the ghost of his past. Even if it meant he’d have to see-

Deadlock took a steadying breath as Hot Rod came to a stop. 

“And here we are,” Hot Rod gestured to a set of heavy, white doors. “We’ll be in and out in no time.”

He gave Deadlock no time to speak as he palmed the entry.

The doors to the medbay opened, blasting with them a cool gust of air. Hot Rod waltzed in before the doors were even fully opened. Willing himself to get this over with, Deadlock followed quickly behind, optics immediately scanning the room for red and white and-

“Hot Rod, I told you not to barge in here while I’m working.”

He sounded the same. Still gruff, still bitter, still masking affection under a frown. Deadlock felt his spark drop as he saw the medic turn away from his console to glare down at Hot Rod, only to spot Deadlock instead.

“Is that any way to speak in front of your new patient? At least try to make a good impression,” Hot Rod faux gasped, servo over his spark. “Here I was being nice and escorting Drift to his appointment and-”

“Save it,” Ratchet cut him off with a short hand gesture. “We both know you’ve been talking off the poor mech’s audial for the past several breems. Go. I’ll send him your way once our check up is done.”

Hot Rod gave Ratchet a big grin before spinning on his pede. He clapped Deadlock on the shoulder on his way out. “Don’t let Hatchet scare ya. He’s not that mean. All bark, not bite. I’ll meet you in the mess hall. ‘Think you remember the way.”

Deadlock found his vocalizer unwilling to cooperate and settled for a nod of his helm.

He turned to watch Hot Rod go, the flashy speedster transforming as soon as he crossed the threshold and bolted off with an obnoxious rev of his engine. 

Behind him, Ratchet tutted. “Whatever you do here, don’t follow Hot Rod’s example unless you want to be on Optimus and Prowl’s list.”

His vocalizer still refused to online, stunted by being alone with Ratchet for the first time in…so long. Deadlock gave another quick nod and Ratchet snorted. It was an ugly sound, but Deadlock found himself repeating it in his helm as Ratchet waved him forward.

“‘Going to start with your measurements and a general scan. Stand here and don’t move around too much.”

Deadlock moved automatically. His limbs felt stiff, like they would lock up again at any moment, but he managed to make his way across the medbay to stand on the small raised platform Ratchet directed him to. 

“Keep your arms by your sides while the scan is in process. You’ll feel a slight tickling sensation.”

Bright white light cascaded down his frame. Deadlock kept rigidly still. He could feel the tickling sensation Ratchet mentioned but it was nothing. He had been forced to withstand far more painful and cruel torment without so much as a flinch. Ratchet seemed to notice this and gave a small appraising hum. That made Deadlock shiver, the sound rolling down his plating. 

“You can step off now,” Ratchet waved him forward, shutting off the scan. 

He held his hand out and Deadlock stared. When he didn’t take it, Ratchet simply let his servo drop as he moved to grab the datapad anchored to the scanner. 

Deadlock quietly moved, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He stared at Ratchet, unsure what else to do. Silence was usually his friend, it's how he managed to keep himself safe in the midst of the Decepticon’s constant infighting. Here, it only served to exaggerate the quiet of the room. It made him feel twitchy. 

He wondered if it was as uncomfortable for Ratchet as it was for him. That would be assuming Ratchet even recognized him. It didn’t even hit him until that moment there was a chance Ratchet wouldn’t even recognize him.

It was not a surprising revelation but it was disquieting nevertheless. 

“Have a seat, Drift.”

The same instinct to correct the name was surprisingly absent. 

Deadlock sat on the medslab, servos anchored to his knees as he watched Ratchet comb through the readings of the scan. His optics drifted across the screen, denta pinching his glossa as he poured all his focus onto his work. It was so simple and yet so mesmerizing, Deadlock didn’t realize he was staring until Ratchet looked up and made eye contact with him. 

Deadlock thought maybe now recognition would finally make its way to Ratchet’s face. But the medic’s gaze was as neutral as it always had been. Ratchet turned back to his datapad.

A…confusing mixture of disappointment and sorrow curled at the base of Deadlock’s throat.

  He…doesn’t remember me.

That should be a good thing. It would make his mission easier, it would make everything easier. But it…hurt. Deadlock was surprised to feel it. The stabbing pain in his chest hurt so much he brought up a hand to rub at it, looking down and away from Ratchet. It took away the sharp sting in his spark, but the ache was still there.

He should be happy Drift was forgotten. He had put so much effort in trying to forget it himself. It’s what he had wanted . He had stripped his name, discarded his past, worked to etch himself into something new, and valuable, and special. He’d thrown it all away…except for that one night in Rodion. It was the one thing he couldn’t rid himself of. 

He had always known that night had meant everything to him and was just…passing words for a tired, charitable medic. But Drift- Deadlock had always wondered if maybe, just maybe, it had stuck with Ratchet.

Evidently not.

Deadlock kept his helm bowed as Ratchet finished reading his scan. A sharp click of the datapad being set down clued him that Ratchet was done. There shouldn’t be anything on that scan. Shockwave had given him a tormentingly thorough examination before they sent him on his mission. The scan then had been clean; there shouldn’t be anything. All he wanted was to be dismissed so he could find his quarters and hide out for the rest of the cycle. The real work could begin tomorrow, the real mission could start then. He just needed a moment to lick his wounds and-

“So,” Ratchet spoke, his voice absent of the gruff bite he had given to Hot Rod, “still have that cable kink in the knee. ‘Thought you would have gotten that sorted out when you got your armor refitted.”

Deadlock snapped his helm up as he met Ratchet’s amused face. The medic let out a low chuckle, his smile crooked in a way Deadlock wanted to trace with his fingers over and over and over again.

“Hi Drift,” Ratchet said, his name spoken with a warmth Deadlock hadn’t heard in years. It was spoken with remembrance, fondness. 

“You…remember?”

“I’m not that old, don’t let Hot Rod convince you otherwise.” Ratchet rolled his optics before they settled back on Deadlock, kind in the same way they had been all those years ago. “Of course, I remember.”

The pain in Deadlock’s chest melted away. This was where the disappointment and bitterness should step in. This was where the worry that his mission would go sideways should sink in. And yet, he felt light, lighter than he had been in so many years.

“I,” Deadlock hesitated, his words low and quiet, “I remember you too.”

Ratchet let out a small snort as he set a palm on Deadlock’s shoulder. In that moment, all Deadlock could see was a Ratchet from before, holding Drift in the same spot, in the same way.

“It’s been a long time,” Ratchet murmured, his smile still there but softer, “I’m happy to see you here, finally finding your way.”

Deadlock wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or scream. He had found his way. He finally had found a place for himself, respected and loved and it has nothing to do with this ruse . Megatron trusted him and handpicked him for this position that no one else could ever think to achieve. He had found his way! He had! Ratchet would one day see the scope of that and…

Ratchet gave him a pat on the knee to signal he could get up. A small, warm smile was on the medic’s face as if he were genuinely happy to have Drift here. Deadlock stood on wobbly knees, his center of gravity off-centered despite being in top notch health. If Ratchet noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply put a warm hand on the Deadlock’s back to steady him.

“Thanks,” Deadlock muttered, unable to look at Ratchet and his too kind, undeserved smile.  

Ratchet won’t be smiling like that when he learns the truth. He won’t be offering Deadlock any warmth, any kindness. Deadlock…was not sure what that would look like. He’d never thought to picture Ratchet angry or upset or horrified. Any time the images tried to appear, he forced them away, choosing instead to think about distant worlds far, far away from the reality in which he would lose Ratchet’s trust. He didn’t want to know what it would look like. 

He knew he shouldn’t even care. He knew his mission was to destroy the autobots and any friendships made here were false. 

He couldn’t deny the small part of himself that wanted to live in his bubble a little longer. That wanted to live in a pocket of space where he and Ratchet weren’t on opposite sides and…well he wasn’t even sure what they could do. 

Talk? 

Deadlock had imagined it countless times, curled in his bunk in the Decepticon barracks running through the simulations of just meeting Ratchet again. His simulations were always tenuous and painful. Ratchet’s disappointment was scathing even in the realm of fantasy. Only a few times had the simulations been positive, when Deadlock tried to imagine a universe where they could just talk. 

Where Ratchet would smile at him and be proud of him and see the potential he had seen in Drift all those years ago in the shady clinic in the Dead End come to fruition. To see that Ratchet had been right, had seen him and understood his potential when no one else could. That they could talk and talk and talk and maybe Ratchet would laugh at one of his jokes and maybe Ratchet would tell him stories of before the war. And maybe Ratchet would admit that he had thought of Dri-Deadlock too. The words wouldn’t be too dissimilar to the ones he had said just now. And then Deadlock could smile back at him and mean it when he said- 

“Me too,” Deadlock spoke to the floor, his mouth moving without his permission. Ratchet rubbed his thumb across the base of Deadlock’s neck. He shuttered his optics to memorize the touch before adding, “I’m happy to be here. To see you.” 

It wasn’t even a lie, despite the guilt that curled around the base of his intake, threatening to make him purge.

He left as soon as the nausea passed. He threw away the urge to even attempt thinking of an outcome that didn’t end with Ratchet’s disappointment.

It’s been a long time.

Deadlock struggled to clear his vents as the acid waste washed over him, Hot Rod’s digits digging into his plating and dragging him down down down. His intake was crushed; he scratched and clawed at Hot Rod’s arms to no avail. 

Hot Rod was dying, and he was taking Deadlock with him. This was the end. And what an end it was. 

Deadlock fought weakly against Hot Rod, desperately grasping for something . He couldn’t die here. He couldn’t die now . He had so much to do, so much he never got to do. So much he failed to do. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. How things were supposed to end. How a nothing leaker from the Dead End became…a nothing Decepticon…in the acid wastes beneath Autobot scum. A nothing. A failure. A disgrace. 

No one would weep for him. 

Not Megatron or any other Decepticon. Certainly not any Autobot. No one would mourn the loss of a failure, of a traitor. No one would care, no matter what name they called him. Deadlock or Drift, discarded and forgotten. Just like before. Just like always.

Not even Ratchet would mourn. Why would he? Deadlock had only ever disappointed him, only ever hurt him, only ever lied even when he was trying not to. He would not deserve Ratchet’s sympathies. He wouldn’t even deserve his pity. 

But as the acid stripped away his paint, peeling away the white then the black and then the white again, Deadlock still hoped that maybe Ratchet would feel saddened by his death. Not as a failure, not as a traitor, but as that lost mech he had met all those years ago, brains fried out on circuit boosters and looking for someone to save him. 

No one was going to save him now. Not Ratchet, not the Decepticons, not some misplaced divinity. No one.  

I’m happy to see you here, 

Are you still happy, Ratchet? What does that feel like? Why can I never feel that?  

Deadlock had hoped once, long long ago, that he would be able to. 

In Dead End it had been Gasket that brought him comfort and the closest thing to happiness. They shared each other’s warmth as they whispered together into the night. They talked about the future, stupid dreams and made-up realities that could never be. Gasket wanted to find a planet with no one on it, where he could be alone and safe and free. At the time, it had been easy enough to copy that dream.

Ratchet had given him hope- not just hope, but trust, and faith, and belief that he could be more. That Drift could be more. That he was special, that he deserved more than what the world and society had spat at him. He didn’t have to follow the will of others, but make his own.  Make his own future, his own dreams, his own happiness. It was the first time anyone had looked him in the eyes and seen more than a dirty little syphonist.

He had thought about those words ever since. He thought about them every cycle, whispering them in the dark, tracing his fingers where Ratchet had rested his hand. It still felt warm and Drift knew that was what happiness had to feel like.

The Decepticons didn’t do happiness. It hadn’t taken Dri- Deadlock long to put that together. But that was okay; power and security were close enough that it didn’t matter. He wasn’t starving. He wasn’t aching. He wasn’t fighting just to find a place to recharge. He had a home and responsibility. He was trusted and valued and praised and-

He was not happy with the Autobots. It was all fake, manufactured, false. Every stupid joke of Hot Rod’s Deadlock laughed at while shaking his helm fondly . Every nod of approval from Perceptor or pat on the back from Grimlock or weary smile from Arcee. It was all lies, all of it.

And Ratchet. Those…those were lies too…

Every brief passing from the medic, always taking a moment- nothing more than a few nanokliks -to say hello, to give Drift a small smile and ask him Have you settled in well? Keeping out of trouble? Heard you took a tumble, want me to check out that knee joint?  

Every meeting, Deadlock shuffled as close as he could dare, to stand side by side as they listened to Optimus or Prowl or whoever . It never mattered. Deadlock would record everything for Megatron, but his focus was always on the medic. So close, yet still thousands and thousands of leagues away. 

Every quiet morning cycle, when Deadlock would get up early just for a chance, a quiet chance, to refuel with Ratchet, exchange pleasantries and smiles. Rarely did they speak beyond that. Deadlock wasn’t sure what they could talk about but he wanted it. He wanted it so bad it made his spark hurt and his teeth ache. He wanted Ratchet to see him, to hear him, to understand him. Like he had back then. But asking for more was unwise. Expecting anything would only make his betrayal more painful. 

None of these moments were truly noteworthy, but each one was categorically recorded, replayed in the deep, dark of the recharge cycle as he ignored the twisting pain in his chest that reminded him this wasn’t real. None of this got to be real. Soon enough it would all turn to ash and destruction, soon enough Drift would be dead once again and Deadlock would be watching every single Autobot burn, burn, burn. 

finally finding your way.

Was this how it was supposed to turn out? Was this his destiny? How was choking on acid any better than rusting to death in Dead End while he fried his brains out. 

Deadlock felt his arms lock up as his energy seeped away, acid corroding his lines and making him immobile. How was this fair? How was this just? How…how come there was no happy end for him?

Deadlock let his optics shutter close, refusing Hot Rod’s face to be the last thing he saw. 

Instead, he drew up memories: the bright lights of a medslab in Rodion, with a gruff medic telling him to keep living, to keep going, that he was special . 

He let his processor, in its delirium, take him back to familiar dreams and fantasies. Long ago, he had stopped co-opting Gasket’s dreams. In truth, they never fit him anyway. He never wanted to be alone. Safety, freedom and happiness meant nothing to him if he didn’t have anyone with him. In forming his own dream, it had been so easy, so simple, to put others around him.

Those faces changed all the time, but Ratchet’s was always there. Sometimes he even felt bold enough to put Ratchet beside him, standing together as equals. In his dreams, it was okay to reach across the distance. In his dreams, he never had to think this was impossible. 

In his dreams, they were together, far away from Cybertron and the war and the pain and the suffering. Far away, in a spaceship not too dissimilar to the arc, charted for the unknown with no factions, no fighting, no war. Ratchet was always there, by his side, in the quiet way the medic always was in his off hours.

In his dreams, Ratchet still called him Drift and there was no bitter sting in hearing it. In his dreams, they just sat together.

And maybe, if he was lucky, they could talk.

#dratchet #drift #ratchet #cyberverse #transformers #macadam #my fics

[blueikeproductions]

Ok, time for another ramble on what I think ES’ toyline needed to be, and how that extends to the show.

Both need to embrace having four distinct factions: Autobots, Decepticons, Terrans, & Arachnimechs.

As well as having distinct themes.

The Autobots are mostly public service vehicles in relation to their partnership with GHOST. As mentioned prior, the GHOST centric toys here would be Optimus, Bumblebee, Elita, Wheeljack, Inferno, Red Alert, Smokescreen, Quickshadow, Grapple, Strongarm, Tow-Line, Bulkhead, Quickmix, Fanbelt, Seaspray, Tracks, Longarm (double spy mode of Laserwave), Sky-Lynx & the Dinobots.

The Decepticons are mostly militarized vehicles and savage animals: Megatron, Bludgeon, Slipstream, Knock Out, Drift/Deadlock, Clobber, Sky-Byte, Lugnut, Blitzwing, Thundercracker, BlackArachnia, Shadow Striker, Swindle, Hardtop, Needlenose, Laserwave (double spy mode of Longarm), Turmoil, Quake, Dropkick, Shatter, Weirdwolf, Frenzy, Dead End, Wildbreak, Heatseeker, Slashmark, Krok, Laserbeak, Ratbat, Octane & the Commandos (Ruination Awakens, baby.)

The Terrans are pretty much as they are, a bit of a non conformist vibe by being any old vehicle or animal without a cohesive theme. Twitch (drone), Thrash (bike), Hashtag (van), Jawbreaker (dinosaur), & Nightshade (gargoyle-owl) like before, but with the addition of Rubble (Mini-Spy vehicle homage), Sideswipe (G2 themed but inspired by the IDW Protoform version), Slash (the Velociraptor that’s included as part of the Dinobots off and on), Quintus Prime (mostly because it’s weird to me he DOESN’T have a toy) and Gauge (construction vehicle).

The Arachnimech faction is where things get interesting. The main gimmick are the little buggers themselves.

But the primary difference is they can Transform, and make up the “Tacticon” assortment, being analogous to Mini-Cons, Battle Masters, and RotB’s Beast Alliance weapons and combiners.

One variant has a Robot Mode akin to a Headmaster Unit.

The rest are accessories that Transform into weaponry and “control masks”.

Like Mini-Cons, the idea is the Tacticon Arachnimechs are cross compatible with all the Autobot/Decepticon figures. You want a bug headed Optimus, go for it.

As for larger figures, the Arachnamech faction, like the Terrans, are a bit of a grab bag of both Autobots and Decepticons that Mandroid enslaved. Notable toys include Skullcruncher, the Insecticons, Gears, Blaster (with a special Arachnamech cassette based on the scrapped Stinger cassette he was meant to have in G1), Starscream, Skywarp, Nova Storm, Airachnid, Cliffjumper, Mirage, Buzzsaw (who I saw as Mandroid’s Cluck to his Robotnik), Rumble (who, along with Buzzsaw, is compatible with Soundwave and Blaster), Bluestreak, Ironhide, Brawn, Cliffjumper, Tailgate, Diabla, Iguanus & The Constructicons who form Devastator (with Scorpulator being his pack in accessory). The crown jewel of the Arachnamech line would be an Arachnamech version of Scorponok patterned a bit more after Zaozorigun from Goldran.

Mandroid would ideally be a Headmaster who transforms into an Arachnimech like head akin to the Megahead Megatron toy.

From there the second phase of the line would pivot away from the Arachnamechs, and replace them with the Quintessons (intermingled with Mercenaries, as show wise, the Quintessons would hire bounty hunter Transformers to do their dirty work initially.) Similarly the line would become Heroic Terrans vs Evil Quintessons.

The new toys would include

Sharkticons: Gnaw, (Tacticon), Blitzwave, Razorfin, Cybershark (Tacticon)

Allicons: Gatoraider (Tacticon, compatible with Krok and Iguanus), Razorgrill (Tacticon), Leatherhide (based more on the scrapped Duocon made of a gator and car rather than the BW Mutant), Alligatimus (based on Gator Optimus from G1. Retooled from Skullcruncher with Optimus Prime features).

Mercenaries: WildWheel, RoughEdge, Devcon, Slizardo (retool of Iguanus), Nightra (retool of Strongarm), Fracture (retool of Thrash), Oil Slick (retool of Dead End), Nightbird, and Skuxxoid.

Terrans:

Cathy, the nickname of a Catharsian that’s an online friend of Hashtag’s that hails from an alien station. While not a Terran biologically (cyberlogically?) she became part of the group after helping with a Vilgrox problem she accidentally caused. She Transforms into a space car, and comes with a Lightpole Tacticon that becomes a gun.

Lightbright: A Nightshade retool. An androgynous boy in this universe. A running gag is he always has a crush on other female Transformers of the day like Quickshadow and Airachnid. Talented in the arts and is a whizz at other languages. He always opens up a conversation with the Universal Greeting. Transforms into an Angry Bird like creature. He and Hashtag are particularly close friends, maybe more? (It goes without saying these other Terrans AREN’T Maltos, but do become friends with them.)

Lickity-Split: A hyperactive scooter girl. Becomes acquainted with humans by being a courier. She does a lot of Energon deliveries, which gets out of hand when her customers are revealed to be Decepticons and Quintessons that are up to no good.

Horri-Bull: A moody bull in a China Shop sort. Deep down there’s a good Spark, but he doesn’t have the best influence being found and mentored by Tracks’ flighty kid brother Needlenose.

Skar: A new Dinobot ankylosaur. Jawbreaker and Slash take him under their wing. The diminutive Slash revels in being the “big” sister for a change. Brilliant but a clumsy goober that doesn’t know his own strength, similar to IDW Skar, TFV Kakuryu, and RiD15 Scowl. Chose the name “Skar” because he thought it sounded cool. Grimlock approves.

Swift: A military drone girl who sympathizes more with the Decepticons and has mixed views on Megatron’s current situation. She and Horri-Bull tend to find themselves on the opposing side of the Maltobots.

Hi Score: A video game geek that has a thing for retro games in particular and is fascinated by the human culture surrounding it. Sounds like Milhouse, Transforms into a Brickbear that can be a stand in for any video game mascot like Mario, Freddy Fazbear or Pikachu. Mystery of Convoy and Afterdeath are among the games he’s currently playing, but are also games exploited by the Quintessons, Kremzeek and TORQ.

Geomotus: A bit of a space case, who tends to get wrapped up in his own interests and rambles on about them. Gets overwhelmed easily and finds solice in fidget toys and Kre-O blocks. Often plays with Mo and builds elaborate Kre-O projects like a replica of the Ark.

The usual Quintesson judge is included, albeit with a gimmick that allows it to Transform into a robot mode similar to early concept art.

Scientist, Prosecutor, Bailiffs and others in the usual Quintesson kangaroo court are available, each having a vehicle mode that corresponds somewhat to their job.

#blueike productions #blueike #transformers #transformers earthspark #maccadam #decepticons #terrans #autobots

[transingthoseformers]

I like mixing rid15 characters into TFP because some of these guys would be so fucking cool in both design and tfp context

Like, Steeljaw would play nicely against the main decepticons and autobots, especially so Starscream because I can see Starscream in her rogue era temporarily joining the Pack, especially because I think Steeljaw would be up for helping Starscream (perhaps Knockout perhaps not, in typical Knockout fashion) try to get Megatron out of the way. Though, they'd run into the issue of both wanting to be in charge of the decepticons and you get this interesting dance of them double crossing each other and wanting to take each other out. Sdfss then there's fucking Soundwave the snitch recording the girlies falling out.

Vertebreak my beloved is lurking around the corner with his cybergrafting experiments playing both Victor Frankenstein and Frankenstein's monster, straight up snatching whoever he can. I see the possiblity of Verty working with MECH a couple times not gonna. I honestly wish he got more than just the typical rid creature feature of the week debut episode, he could make a good vague threat that's lurking when you don't expect it.

Plus as we just discussed we could have Zizza as an Insecticon queen and give her both the tfp typical insecticons AS WELL AS a nice amount of the rid insecticons like Saberhorn, Glowstrike, and Scorponok!

We can have the rid mercenaries and their beef, thought I think y'all would prefer if Deadlock / Drift looked more like he did in IDW (I admit a preference for his Deadlock design)

We can have Jazz

We can have Strongarm as Magnus's adopted daughter because I've seen that floated around

We can have the stunticons as again a split off faction of their own who's focused on maintaining road superiority and Breakdown as an ex-stunticon (is this made better or worse by me running SEVERAL SEVERAL plotlines based on Motormaster v Megatron?)

I'm just thinking thoughts about this because it's basically the rid15 decepticons but with the tfp plot and setting.

#maccadam #transformers #deadlock / drift💖💖💖 we love him #LIKE IN MY MIND WE DAMN WELL *SEE* HIS DEFECTION #thinking thoughts #Starscream gets his rid design because I'm so sorry but i think it's more Starscream-ey #so many characters #transformers robots in disguise #tf rid 2015 #transformers prime #jazz is in rid15 and he's amazing even though we don't see him for long #i wonder what drift would look like with his lost light design but rid color palette #is this too ambitious

[rayshippouuchiha]

Happy birthday dearest Void! Since I’m broke AF, I would like to offer you some fic reccs as presents! I hope you don’t mind the Kingdom Hearts fics, I thought you might be interested in these. Totally fine if you’re not though, no pressure!

Naruto:

isn’t it poetic that the sky is what we leave behind? by kirpy https://archiveofourown.org/works/36331276/chapters/90575314 (mostly features Kakashi learning about his clan’s history and culture, which is based off of the Norse myth of Fenrir which is pretty awesome)

sabotage by stirringwinds https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439483 (In which Itatchi has a bit of a mental breakdown and spills the beans about the mission he’s been given to kill his clan to Kakashi. Which is not going to happen on Kakashi’s watch)

The Fox and the Hound by WyrmFood https://archiveofourown.org/works/30301365/chapters/74685978 (Kakashi decides he’s not going to let his past or the council keep him away from Naruto after one too many instances of Naruto being abused by the orphanage feat. Orochimaru being Kakashi’s mama)

The Jinchuuriki Nine (and Saving the World) by LesbianOzoneLizard https://archiveofourown.org/works/35945257/chapters/89614636 (The rookie 9 all time travel back to their genin days. How? Because they’ve all been turned into jinchuuriki of course. Naturally they’re going to change quite a bit)

Hawthorn Bakes the Sweetest Bread by QuinsValoria https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457198/chapters/67126525 (Naruto has mokuton and is pretty much raised by his ANBU guard. Sweet and fluffy)

Kingdom Hearts:

A Shadow, a Light, and a Sky verse by UnknownUnseenUnheard https://archiveofourown.org/series/2419987 (in which Ventus is much more active after taking refuge in Sora’s heart and Vanitas is there too; Sora immediately adopts the two as his older brothers)

(i don’t need you to) Worry for Me by Cygna_hime https://archiveofourown.org/works/501160/chapters/879821 (Explores Vanitas’s time as Xehanort’s apprentice and his trauma because of it)

deadlock by orphan_account https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086636/chapters/42751559 (Bit of a role swap AU where Vanitas is the one initially healed by Sora instead of Ventus. Technically a Sora/Vanitas fic, but they’ve only interacted twice(?) I believe so no shipping just yet)

the language of unborn stars by llien https://archiveofourown.org/works/33263368 (more of a character and relationship study between Sora and Vanitas. Romance is vague enough that it can be read more as qpr though which makes my aro heart happy; HIGHLY recommend)

Of Grilled Ducks and Painted Boats by PoltergeistPanda https://archiveofourown.org/works/31311527 (In which Donald has bad mouthed Sora one too many times so Riki and Kairi decide to do something about it. Mentioned/implied SoRiKai but not the focus)

Oh thank you darling!!

#RayRambles #Naruto #Kingdom Hearts #Fic Rec