#and we have a few outside cats (not really our cats or else they would be inside. but we feed them and pet them every day) and his dog got-

[citrus-sours]

If your a dog owner who brags about how your dog would kill a cat in an instant, maybe go fucking off yourself and give the dog to someone who can actually handle it.

#we had someone move in next to us with his dog #and we have a few outside cats (not really our cats or else they would be inside. but we feed them and pet them every day) and his dog got- #out and killed one of the cats. her name was pepper. and i was fucking FUMING #like Pepper was a fat elderly cat. she was sitting on HER proch where she sits everyday and has for years. and here comes this ja koff. #she had no where to go. she couldnt run anymore becuase her age. and he just. let the dog get her. breaks my heart. #like im fr crying thinking about how scared she must have been... #but like. please handle your animals and dont fucking let them treat someone elses pet like a chew toy #also no hate to the dog its not like he could help being a dog. not his fault his owner lets him do this shit #animal death #tw animal death #vent?

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 2

A/N: Highly requested so here you guys go! Enjoy!

<----part 1 part 3---->

DogDay led me outside of the Playhouse and back outside into Playcare. A few feet in front of us was a chicken. A tall yellow chicken. Ah, that must have been KickinChicken. “Hiya KC!” DogDay was still holding my hand but with his other he waved extremely fast to KickinChicken. “Sup DD! Hey, finally got yourself a helper now huh? ‘Bout time dude.” KickinChicken then handed off the kids too, I’m assuming his helper. His helper also matched him as well. Guess that was the uniform for us working with these...tall animal mascots.  

Kickinchicken walked up to me and DogDay. “Names Kickinchicken, the cool member of the Smiling Critters.” DogDay laughed when he said that. “Go on Angel, introduce yourself.” I wasn’t used to seeing animals so tall, it scared me a little. I held out my free hand to KickenChicken and summoned some courage to talk.  

“Hello, I’m Y/N or Angel, doesn’t really matter what you call me. Nice to meet you.” KickenChicken then slapped my hand with his and started to make a handshake with me. I mirrored his movements to understand this new handshake I was given. “Haha, she’s pretty cool DD, you got yourself a rad helper.” He then looked at me up and down. “Not bad looking either.” KickenChicken smiled at me. I was going to comment on that, but DogDay beat me too it. “Look at the time! You better hurry along to your group now KC, don’t want our little friends upset now do we?” “Right, well nice meeting ya Y/N, we’ll chat later.” he spoke as he walked back to his group and helper. DogDay squeezed my hand a bit before leading us to the center of Playcare. “On with the tour!” 

--------------- 

DogDay first showed me the statue in the center. It was all the Smiling Critters. There were eight of them in total: DogDay the leader, Bobby Bearhug the loving one, KickenChicken was the cool one, Hoppy Hopscotch the energetic one, CraftyCorn was the artist in the group, Bubba Bubbaphant the smart one, PickyPiggy the foodie, and lastly there was CatNap, DogDays bestest friend. He supposably makes sure that everyone else gets a good night's rest every day to ensure that they are ready for the next day.  

Next, we went into the Toy Store. DogDay was tall, so he had to walk on all fours. “This is where the children can come and buy some sweet toys of yours truly, and the others!” I smiled and looked around. Sure enough there were plushies of DogDay and the rest of the group. There were also some other toys like a blue limp doll, a dinosaur that matched the lamps outside, what looked like a cat and a bee mixed, and other toys. I picked up a smaller version of DogDay and looked at it. “You said the kids buy these?” “Uh-huh! We give them play money to use around here, that way when they get adopted, they’ll know about the real world and how to manage their expenses.” That was smart of them. I set the plushie back down and followed DogDay outside. 

We then looked at the consoler's office and school. DogDay told me that the consolers office was where the staff would put their belongings in and where parents would go to adopt a child. Only DogDay was allowed in the consoler's office, none of the other Smiling Critters could go in there. I’m not sure why but I didn’t question it. “The school is where the children spend most of their time. I’d take you inside so you could meet Miss Delight and her sisters, but I wouldn’t want to interrupt her teachings.” “That’s okay, I’m sure I’ll get to meet them one day.”  

--------------- 

It was now naptime for the children which meant that the Smiling Critters could step away and hang out all together and just relax. I was in the consolers office to check out my assigned office. Each helper had their own office to get away to when needed. Outside my door was a card that had ‘Welcome’ on the front. I picked it up and walked into my new office. I took a look around, nice office, however what stuck out to me was the big dog bed in the corner.  

I was about to walk over to it until I heard a knock at the door. I set down the card and opened the door, but no one was there. Suddenly DogDays head popped out from the side. “Hiya Angel!” “Ah-” I fell back in shock. As I laid on the floor DogDay hovered over me with a worried expression, his sun pendant laid against my chest. “Angel?! Oh gosh I’m so sorry! Are you okay??!” I did a double-blink and then slowly sat up. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting that at all.” DogDay then held out a paw towards me to help me to my feet. I took his paw into my hand and once my hand met his paw his tail started to wag. He pulled me up to my feet and got close to me.   I wasn't used to being this close to anyone, let alone a giant dog so I started to blush. This caught DogDays attention. “Angel your face is really red, are you sick?” I was starting to feel bad, not physically but mentally. I didn’t want him to be worried about me. “I-I’m fine! Really DogDay. So, um what brings you by?” I wanted to change the subject as fast as possible. DogDay then smiled and leaned away from me. “I wanted to see if you liked the card we made!” I went to my desk, picked up the card and opened it. ‘Welcome newest helper, we hope that this job brings you happiness and joy as we do to our children here. We look forward to working with you, signed everyone.’ I did like the letter. 

--------------- 

Me and DogDay started chatting for a while until out of nowhere, I yawned. “Oh my, sorry about that.” Guess I was starting to get a bit tired. “That’s okay Angel. There’s thirty minutes left of nap time; you should rest up!” A power nap did sound good. I nodded and told DogDay that he should go back to his friends, but he shook his head no and picked me up and walked over to the dog bed in the corner. Should’ve known it was his.  

“I’d rather spend my free time with you Angel, plus as your boss you have no say.” He stuck his tongue out and booped my nose with his paw. My face got warm again. He then laid down on his bed and laid me in between his front paws. “You can rest with me Angel; I’ve been told that I’m a very fluffy pillow.” He was very soft and the smell of vanilla on him was almost like a drug to put you to sleep, and it was working. I yawned once more and closed my eyes. DogDays head rested near me. “Rest well my Angel.” was the last thing I heard before drifting off to sleep.  

A/N: Thank you for reading!

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday #x reader #dogday x reader #part 2 #smiling critters

[cy-cyborg]

Hi, I was wondering what sort of leg prosthetic would work well in a fight? I'm designing a magical girl OC with a prosthetic leg and want to incorporate a rather more pink and sparkly one into her magical girl form. I know you can get blades for running, but would those be better than a normal prosthetic for running and leaping around while bonking monsters with a magic stick?

Hey there, I think I remember seeing your question on my old account right? I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you!

So a blade probably wouldn't be ideal, but a hybrid might.

Blade prosthetics are very good for running, but are absolutely terrible for literally everything else, including standing or walking. Essentially, blade prosthetics are modeled off of digitigrade legs. For the non-furries on my page, digitigrade legs are what cats and dogs have on their back legs where it bends at the knee, then bends back the other way at a second joint before their feet.

[ID 1: A pair of black running blade prosthetics with yellow edges. Their wearer is out of frame but we can see they are running along a track. /end ID] [ID 2: A photo of a cheetah from the side. In the photo we can clearly see the structure of its legs, as described above. /End ID]

This is actually their ankle, and their "foot" is their toes. This arrangement makes these animals really fast and nimble, but it comes at the cost of lower balance. That's not an issue when you have another two legs to help keep you steady, but when you put that onto a human we start having issues. This is why if you watch any races where the competitors are using these prosthetics, they almost always fall over, especially the double leg amputees. Essentially, the shape and springiness of a blade gives you a massive speed advantage (so much so that amputee runner Oscar Pistorius had to be given disadvantages in order to compete in the Olympics with able-bodied runners) but it essentially moves the ankle joint and heel - the one our brains automatically know to weight bare through - up off the ground. The closest an able bodied person could get to the feeling of running on a blade would be to wear a pair of stilleto heels with the heal removed, and a spring on the bottom.

Hybrid feet though are a combination of blade feet and the regular feet amputees usually get. They are like tiny blades, but they usually have a foot-shell on the outside so you don't see it. These hybrid feet give you some of the extra padding and suspension you'd get from a running blade (which makes running/jumping etc more comfortable) as well as a bit of a speed boost, though not as much as the big ones, and they don't come at the cost of your balance, which you'r character will need when fighting.

Ossur's Flex foot range are a good one to look at for refeance, I used them when I was doing martial arts, as do a few friends of mine who are still doing it. This is a link to their website, it's got pictures of what they look like both internally and when people are using them, and I beleive theirs a booklet you can download on the page as well if you want to read into them a bit more. This isn't the only one of course, but it's the one I've used before:

I'm planning to do a breakdown in a little bit more detail about the different types of prosthetic feet and what they're good for eventually, but for what you described, I think this is what would work best.

#disability #disabled #writing #writeblr #writing disability #designing disabled characters #amputee #amputees #leg amputees #prosthetics

[sanguineterrain]

honey!! number 11 on the prompt list is so steve coded, don’t ya think??

it so totally is 🥰 11. back hugs

steve h x gn!reader. good ol' pining besties <3

****

"Robin," you say. "You're overthinking it."

"Signals, Y/N. People have signals. A hand on your wrist, a secret smile. Signals! Now: was Vickie sending me signals? We have to explore all possibilities. But mostly, the answer is probably no. She just wants to hang."

"She asked you to brunch. People our age do not go to brunch."

"Brunch is classy!"

"Brunch is a breakfast date," you scoff. "Brunch is I want to get a cat with you."

"Well, I think—" Robin groans, glancing over your shoulder. "Oh, God. Heads up. Loverboy, twelve o'clock."

Before you can turn, you're being swept into a warm hug from behind. Steve's cheek presses to yours, his chin tucked in your neck. The tip of his nose is cold from outside as it brushes your jaw. Your heart haywires.

"Steve!" you squeal, his arms around your waist. "What're you doing?"

"You're gonna love me," he says into your ear.

Already do.

"Am I now?"

He walks around to face you.

"Yup," he says, popping the 'p'. "Look at these."

Steve holds up two slips of paper. Tickets to Bruce Springsteen at Soldier Field.

"Holy shit!" you cry, and throw your arms around him. He catches you with a laugh.

"These must've cost a fortune! How did you get them? I thought they were all sold out."

Steve shrugs. "I know people. So, interested?"

He knows it's all you've been talking about (and lamenting over when the tickets sold out in three minutes). Bruce Springsteen is one of your favorites.

"You didn't—Steve," you say in awe. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Consider it an early birthday present."

"Then I want you to come with me."

"Wh—me?"

You scoff. "Who else would I bring?"

"Someone who actually knows Springsteen songs?"

"You know enough of his hits. I mean, if you really don't want to go..."

"No!" He shakes his head. "No, Y/N, obviously I'll go. I just didn't want you to be embarrassed when I'm the only person there who doesn't know Glory Days."

"Well, that's why we're gonna listen to Born in the USA everyday until the concert," you grin. "Get you prepped."

Steve groans. "Can't believe you're giving me homework."

You turn to put the tickets in your bag. Steve crowds you as you do, chin on your shoulder. He's always affectionate with you, loose with his touches and pets.

Robin looks at you, brows to her hairline.

"It's fun homework," you say, ignoring Robin with all your might. "We can listen to the tapes in your car 'cause you've got the fancy sound system."

"That why you're friends with me?" Steve asks, arms curling around your belly. "Just for perks?"

You grin. "No comment. But the concert tickets have definitely moved you up to best friend status."

"Where was I before?"

You pat his cheek. Steve pretends to grumble for another moment before slipping away. Instantly, you miss the warmth of his embrace.

"If you're done clinging to Y/N," Robin starts. "The new releases need to be shelved."

Steve throws her an eye roll but goes, giving you one last smile. You return it sheepishly. Robin watches you like a hawk.

You finally relent when Steve's far enough away.

"What is it now, Robs?"

"Signals," is all she says.

"Concert tickets is not a signal, Robin."

"Oh, it's something. Steve's music taste is whatever's on the radio."

"Not true! He listens to Queen and Fleetwood Mac and AC/DC and—"

"Because of you." Robin huffs. "It's you, Y/N, it's all for you. And you're both so deeply in denial you think it's just friendship things."

"He's just..." You watch Steve stack the videos on the shelf.

The enamel pin you got him a few months ago is on his FV vest. It's a bumblebee that says bee mine! You'd thought it was cute and fun and that Steve would like it. He wears it everyday, even if it doesn't match his outfit at all.

You look at Robin, your heart in your throat.

"Signals?" you ask quietly.

She nods.

"Now you're getting it."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[webslingingslasher]

how you think peter would react to trouble being extremely jealous over some girl? (this is not a request! answer only if u feel like it <3)

i think he wouldn’t know at first. he’d just think you’re acting off and he thinks he may have done something to mildly upset you and he’s trying to do his best to be good to ease the tension some.

when he thinks you may need a breather he nods at a girl from his lab in the kitchen, they’ve talked a few times and he thinks she’s chill to talk to, so he kisses your cheek and tells you he’ll be back and tries to depart for his new conversation partner.

tries. because you tug him back by the wrist and hold him at your side, you scoff at him. ‘no you absolutely won’t be. you’ll be here all night. understand?’

peter looks down at your tight hold with confusion, it’s bordering aggressive, he’s never seen you like this before.

‘you alright, trouble?’

you have an icy glare towards his classmate.

‘peachy.’

when the staring contest becomes a war he goes silent, it’s a battle of dominance. you’re telling her if she wants him she needs to pry him from your hands.

you grunt, ‘c’mon, let’s go.’ you pull him behind you, he looks back to the kitchen and your ‘competition’ is watching with narrowed eyes. peter can feel how pissed you are by the grip on his hand.

he’s never seen you so possessive, he loves it.

when you have him outside you find a few friends of his, heading that way, because it’s a safe zone, peter can’t stop a bubbling laugh. it’s almost like a giggle.

‘what’s so funny?’ aka ‘is she why you’re so happy?’

‘i have never seen you so jealous. normally you just brush it off but i really thought you were about to pull out the cat claws.’

you grunt, ‘yeah, well, when a bitch goes around talking about stealing you, i have to make it known i’ll fucking kill her.’

you lag when peter stops walking, you try pulling him with you but fall back into place with him. peter looks confused and upset.

‘she said what?’

you look bitter, ‘she was fucking bragging to a friend about it and sarah heard it. fucking bitch was gloating about how easy you were to steal from me.’

peter’s head turns back to the house, he almost wants to go in there himself and set the record straight.

‘woah, woah, woah. was she really? i mean, are we sure it was her?’ his words make you sour, ‘yes.’

you hitch your voice like a bimbo, ‘all i had to do was bat my eyes and he did all the work for me, he’ll be under me in a week.’ you mumble under your breath, ‘fucking bitch.’

peter’s trying to think back and he winces, he doesn’t know how he didn’t see the signs. he used to be the number one flirter, but now all he has is tunnel vision for you.

you made him unaware to outside influences, his mind revolves around you.

‘oh. that’s not… she…’ peter squirms around, he feels uncomfortable. ‘that’s… yucky. it’s yucky.’ he doesn’t know how else to describe it.

you still look pissed, ‘yup.’

peter pulls you in for a hug, ‘you know you have nothing to worry about cause i had no idea she was even putting the moves on me.’ you smirk into his chest, you suppose it’s true. it’s not him you’re mad at, you can’t blame her for being interested. you can blame her for not respecting you and trying to swipe what you claimed as yours.

you still want to remind him, ‘i’m not mad at you. well, maybe a little, but only because you’re so pretty.’ peter squeezes you for three seconds before releasing, it’s like he wrenched all the frustration from your bones.

‘i can’t wait for our next lab, she’s gonna try to talk to me and i’m just going to walk away. that’ll hurt more than a gentle rejection.’

a smile breaks over your face, its the first one you’ve had all night.

#frat!peter drabbles

[niobiumao3]

I've been thinking about the whole Crosshair and CX-2 situation, and I am beginning to wonder if, should CX-2 prove to be Tech, Crosshair didn't, in fact, know.

In an interview before the premiere, Michelle Ang mentioned Crosshair getting to see forgiveness and real love in the face of a great betrayal. Now, Crosshair's great betrayals are long past. So, is this some NEW betrayal? Is it someone ELSE betraying and being forgiven? CX-Tech fits the later very neatly, however, there might be another option: that Crosshair DOES know CX-2 is Tech, and has been not telling everyone because he blames himself for it happening and is sure they'll all turn him out the second they discover it (Omega included).

I'm of two minds here.

Crosshair didn't know, because Tech was put straight into conversion from medical care, and so Crosshair never saw him.

Crosshair DOES know, and feels black-hole sized guilt about it to the point where he can't bring himself to tell anyone.

In the #2 bucket goes a few things:

We see, repeatedly, that Crosshair isn't saying everything about Tantiss. This is as true for Hunter (the person always mentioning this) as it is for us, as our POV on Tantiss was almost exclusively Omega. Hunter knows Crosshair hasn't told them everything, and isn't going to push him except in specific instances where it really woulda been nice to know.

We do know that the CX conditioning is bad. Like, really bad, bad enough that wiping out your identity--not just the chip but like, you, yourself--is part of it. Or, so Crosshair says (and Tech in S2), though of course the truth of that might be more complex. This is reason enough for him to not talk about things. Except...

When Rex and Howzer explain they have a CX in custody Crosshair is immediately spooked. Then he's even MORE upset when he sees who it is. Or is it because of who it isn't?

If he knew CX-2 was Tech, and sees CX-1, he knows there is only one other CX they're sending after them, and the absolute last thing he would want is for them to have to kill Tech to get away. Or worse, kill the person who used to be Tech and can't be reclaimed (from his POV). Either way, from his POV, it is all bad news that CX-2 is inbound.

And as much as I feel Cross just isn't a hand to hand badass, at the end of his one on one with CX-2, he is clearly giving up. Everything CX-2 is saying is battering him emotionally and dousing the fight in him. Which makes a lot of sense, if he knows it's Tech.

For #1, well, the explanation is much simpler: we, and Omega and Crosshair, never see Tech in CX conditioning because he was in a bacta tank for part of it and then into a pod for the rest. He might have even converted quickly if we're to assume he had amnesia from the fall. (I suspect, should he prove to be CX-2, we won't get an explanation for this.) This actually would give Omega AND Crosshair some severe guilt, realizing when they escaped they left Tech on Tantiss in Hemlock's not-so-stellar care. It makes sense Crosshair would never want to go back--the conditioning sounds pretty awful. But then his reaction to CX-1 is a little less clear; we know there aren't very many CXes at this point, so why is THIS one such a concern to him? He just appears to be a reg. And CX-1's use of 'brother' is also very pointed. Which would make sense if CX-2 is Tech, who would have referred to Crosshair as his brother...

Anyways. We'll see if this pans out. I'd considered this might be the case even as I was like 'are we really doing that', and while I'm not a fan of this plot in the overall, like a cat being dragged outside on a harness for some enrichment I can grudgingly accept it. Mostly.

#star wars #spoilers #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #speculation #blather

[bruh-anator3000]

CAT-astrophic

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

A/n: *pushes rock I live under over and peeks out of the black abyss* Hey, have you guys seen a Car Wash Miguel fic anywhere? I don't know what happened to it but it's no longer here. Might've escaped... anyways, watch this cat for me while I look? Thanks. And don't mind the hot homeless dude who talks to him, they're bonding. *returns into the depths of the void*

Summary: A hot dude won't stop talking to your cat, it's kind of freaking you out.

WC: 1.7k, edited by google docs...

Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader

Warnings: crack fic, Spider-cat's real name is Sir Jeffords bc i said so, clueless reader, pro outdoor cat (i'm not actually, keep ur cats safe pls), future-ish?, accidentally snuck in some world building, in Lyla we trust 🙏, Miguel in tight clothing bc I also said so, and wait wtf are you doing with a dead rat miguel, AND WTF IS THIS WHITE STUFF DUDE?!

Also no Spanish bc I've done some research and those who do speak it have asked non-native speaker to avoid it, to prevent bad google translations and maintain respect!

Okay, enjoy~

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

You were about to head in for the night when you were not tripped by your cat for his dinner. After a quick search around your apartment, you sighed upon realizing he was still outside. Shrugging on a coat, mismatched slippers, and grabbing a flashlight, you went out to look for him.

Plenty of people told you to keep your cat inside. That it was vital to their health to keep them safe indoors. There were plenty of articles stating the cons of letting a domesticated cat roam freely outside with no supervision. They were also written 80 years ago. The world has changed since then, drastically.

Sure, it would still be smart to keep Sir Jeffords inside. Less late night searches for him, no more worrying if that scratch on his right paw was from running too fast along pavement or something worse. But he came from the life of an alley cat, and no matter what you tried, he had to be out there for a few hours a day. Last time you tried to stop him, he went under your radar for three days. You had a panic attack, worried he didn't love you anymore, but he did eventually come back. Chipper and eager, and he made sure you left his cat door unlocked.

The streets were cleaner than 80 years ago. The people were kinder. The city more accommodating to everyone, even stray animals. Sir Jeffords was mirco chipped, and even if it didn't work for tracking half the time, the shelter folks could scan his neck and drop him back home.

There were no pounds or pest controls anymore, just volunteers who helped poor animals stay warm. And find whoever left them in the streets. It was a crime to leave them now, resulting in 6 months of detention if caught dumping your animal friend into the alleys.

Jeffords was a smart cat. He knew what he was doing. You trusted him. In the event of something bad happening, you made him swore he would come find you right away. Though he couldn't speak, his tail wrapping around your pinky seemed solid enough.

You called out his name, followed by a few 'pspspsps's to really seal the deal. Your flashlight shining in the darker corners of the streets he may be hiding in. Cats and their dark, unreachable corners, Sir Jeffords fell victim to any cozy spot he could barely tuck himself into.

It wasn't until a few blocks away, a little past the bank, when you heard a meow. Very similar to his, you quietly sped your pace, wanting to grab your kitty and go home. The closer you got, it seemed more like he was responding to someone else more than you.

"-and your service is always appreciated." You heard a deep voice whisper. Their voice a grumble echoing through the alley they hid in. "You're one of our best." Your brows pinching together, you turned the corner of the bank, flashlight illuminating your fluffy orange cat. Who was rubbing up against the shin of a random man.

He looked up at you, eyes darkened as he blocked your flashlight with his large hand. They almost seemed red as he stayed squatted, Sir Jeffords head butting his knee. His face pure sharp angles, with a scowl permanently in place. His black shirt a tight, compressing fit. Clinging to each muscle and vein in his arm, stopping halfway down his bicep. His calves just as impressive. His shorts doing nothing but making him look even hotter.

Wait, no. This was a random man, he wasn't hot.

You lowered the light and gave an awkward smile. Seemingly unimpressed, his hardened gaze turned back to your cat. "He's yours?" He asked, voice rumbling low in his chest. With a nod, he added, "He's... cute."

Okay, maybe he was a little hot.

"Right?" Your smile smoothed into something more natural. "He's the cutest cat to ever exist." You lowered yourself down onto your knees with a soft baby call. Sir Jeffords trotting into your lap happily, orange fur swaying with his steps.

Your hand ran through his silky fur. Tension easing from you as you held him close again. Though his three day disappearance had yet to happen again, you still worried. He was your precious baby, after all. The one you shared everything with, and he never once judged.

Your fingers caught on something sticky, stopping short of his lower back. Pulling your hand away, strings of white followed, sticking to your fingertips. The feeling moist and far too clingy for comfort. A disgusted shiver ran up your spine at the horrible sensory.

The man stood then, tossing a tissue at you as he did. His gaze stayed on your cat, never faltering. He pushed his dark hair away from his face, still scowling.

Glancing between your hand and the man that now towered over you, you almost gagged. This wasn't... his, right?

"It was the rat." Like he read your mind, the mysterious stranger held out his other hand. A dead rat laid in his palm.

"That... doesn't make me feel much better." You suppressed another full body shake, quickly wiping your hand off. This guy may be extremely attractive to look at but the longer you stayed there, the more uncomfortable you got. "How would a mouse... And what is this?" You felt yourself getting sick as you held the tissue out, the white stuff now sticking to the paper instead

"Webs. And, it's a rat." He stated with a straight face. More angry at your confusion than anything. "Chased him through some spider webs."

You let out a soft 'oh.' But that didn't explain why he was holding onto the dead rat.

And he let it stay that way. Instead of reading your mind like he had been this entire time, he just... walked off. With a dead animal in his grasp. Without a word.

Your confused gaze turned to your cat, knees beginning to ache from the pressure of concrete beneath. Sir Jeffords purred into your stomach loudly.

"You're not allowed to hang out with that guy, ever again."

...

"Christ!" Miguel tossed the rat at the wall, hearing him curse. The small animal glitched into a grown adult, body morphing sickly. "That..." The villain panted, rubbing at his neck. Bruises from how tightly he was held already forming there. "... was not what I was expecting."

Miguel squatted back down, balancing on his toes as the hologram of regular clothes shifted back into his suit. "You chose to become a rat, in a world whose Spider-Man is a cat." He slammed down a disk, red netting encasing the fool. "That was your own fault."

"It was the only way I could get into the bank!" The villain squeaked. Miguel tuned out almost immediately, eyes turning to his watch. Setting the portal to his universe, and making sure he wasn't needed elsewhere. He entertained the villain in a tacky grey suit with distant hums and 'oh, yeah, uh-huh's. It was best to just let them get it out of their system then try to shut them up.

"And I would've gotten away with it, too! If it weren't for you and your cat!" The shape shifter writhed in the nets.

"Sound like a damn Scooby-Doo villain." Miguel stood up with a huff. He would never admit it, but Hobie used the term so often, he had to look up what he was referencing. Only to end up watching the first few seasons. He had to stop around the third season, a sick sense of deja vu hitting him with a bat. The cartoons reminded him too much of the daughter he never really had.

With a sigh, "Lyla," He called.

The AI appeared before him, wearing a shit eating smirk. He opened his mouth to command something else when she beat him to it. "You should've asked for their number."

"What?" Miguel's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"They were cute, should've asked them on a date." She glitched to his side with a teasing laugh.

"Lyla, I... no." He grumbled, flicking at his watch.

"Oh, you know?" Miguel tried to smack her away, only for her to reappear on his left shoulder. "You should go back, then."

Miguel glared at her, ignoring how the tips of his ears began to burn. "I can't, its-"

"Not a canon event." They said at the same time. Lyla rolling her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses, Miguel focusing on creating a portal. "You're such a loser, you know that?" She huffed and puffed, spawning with her back turned to him.

He tried to reach out with a heavy breath, but she moved further away. This time sitting with her arms crossed and pouting.

"They were cute." The villain nodded from his fetal position on the ground. Earning a glare from the two. Shrinking further into himself, the shape-shifter apologized.

Miguel thrust his forearms forward, his mantis blades catching on the fabric of time. Ripping them apart with a grunt. Orange and purple twisted in front of him, and he grabbed a hold of the red netting the anomaly was in.

"Meet me back at HQ," He spoke to his AI with a nod. Foot already in the portal, he turned to cast a menacing glance at Lyla. "And do not try anything."

She held up her hands in defense, watching the portal close behind him. It wasn't like she even had to do anything - not anymore. She already slipped his multiversal number into the collar of Spider-Cat. All that needed to happen was you either found it, or it fell out. Lyla just had to wait to see which option would be canon.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Check out my Masterlist!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara fanfiction #bruh writes #spiderverse fanfic #x you

[prolix-yuy]

In honor of your Bangathon, I spun the wheel 🤣

So we have froggy style with *drum roll* none other than our warm, feral racoon man Dieter Bravo. And we just need that sultry foul mouth.

I'm so excited for all the drabble that are going to come of this.

Lovely Britt! It is the penultimate day of the Bangathon and I've thrown all my rules out the window. Dieter double feature, absolutely obliterating my word count, and I'm having way too much fun with it. Let's get froggy with our raccoon boy!

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Position: Froggy Style

Word Count: 2656 (it's 12:45am, there are no gods, no one can save me)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), PiV sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, public sex, sex parties, mentions of fetish play.

Notes: This idea came to me in a dream and I had to write it, word count be damned! Technically I'm spoiling the ending with just the pairing, but I'm sure you would have guessed it instantly either way. Let's go!

“This is a little too Eyes Wide Shut for me,” you tell your friend Ana as she urges you through the front door of a Hollywood mansion. Your voice is muffled by the mask you wear, black lace molded to look like a cat. Only your eyes are visible, held on with a thick ribbon tied behind your head. Ana is sporting a rabbit mask, maybe a little on the nose for the occasion but you could appreciate the honesty. 

“Then why did you accept my invitation?” she asks, all smug grace and poise in the skimpy red dress she matched to her disguise. You’re more akin to a kitten, steps uncertain and timid as you take in the room and all its inhabitants. 

It had been too tempting, one of Ana’s fellow actors inviting her out to a “masquerade.” When she saw your eyes widen, heat rising in your cheeks, she made a phone call and extended your own invitation. It would have been rude to deny. But now, co-mingling with people who would never know you in the outside world, it all feels like a bad idea.  

Men and women alike are masked, some more on display than others. One fox woman is in barely-there lingerie, a falcon man in low-slung gray sweatpants and nothing else. Your skin tingles in anticipation, the long black dress hugging your form a comfort against the tickle of eyes. 

“If you get cold feet, just leave before the selection,” Ana says, stepping away from you to grab a couple glasses of champagne. You’re about to question how you’ll drink it when you see golden straws circling the lip.

“They thought of everything,” you murmur, eliciting a chuckle from her. 

“Anything catch your eye?” she says salaciously, and you bat her away before surveying the room. Many wolves and lions, a few birds of prey, some dog masks that look suspiciously close to fetish gear. Bodies of all types, but nothing that stood out enough to make you salivate.

“We’ll see,” you say as a chime sounds and the crowd moves deeper into the house. Ana walks next to you, head turning to take in the potentials. You keep yours tilted up, admiring the fresco on the ceiling and trying to ground yourself.

“It’s a pretty good replica, but the real thing is better,” says a deep male voice next to your shoulder. 

“The blue is really vibrant,” you reply, “Looks like they followed traditional techniques.” 

“Only the best for our esteemed hosts,” he muses, making a smile come to your hidden lips.

“Not a fan?” you tease, an entryway coming into view.

“I would never say an unkind word about those that invite me in their home,” the man says with faux adoration, “but yes, they're extremely tacky and most of their art is fake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laugh, turning to see who’s speaking but no one is directly behind you anymore. He must have melted into the crowd. You’re about to ask Ana if she saw him when you come to a bottleneck, two darkly dressed attendants speaking to each guest.

“Are you open to being chosen tonight?” the bright-eyed woman to your right says, holding out a red string bracelet. You swallow hard.

“Yes.”

She affixes the string around your wrist, letting you enter the open courtyard. Silver stars twinkle in the indigo sky, braziers lit around the room offering warmth and golden light. A group of guests, mostly male-presenting, gather in the middle of the courtyard. Around the peripheries, mixed company lounge on crisp white couches in various poses of seduction. You settle on one, letting Ana wander away. 

Once guests stopped filing in, another chime sounds and the group begins thinning out. Some remain, nodding to companions or conversing. The majority wander the perimeter, extending hands or sitting beside their choices. 

Anxiety wells in your throat. What was someone supposed to choose you for? You’re among the Hollywood twelves, smuggled in by your connections. What would they want with your cheap dress and cheaper tastes? What could they judge from a glance?

Suddenly, there’s a hand extended before you. 

“Would you care to be chosen, gatita?”

The voice is familiar, the same man from before. Putting visuals to him is more powerful than you thought. He’s in silk pajamas, white and tan with beautiful renditions of bare-branched trees poking up from red and green brush. You even spy some hunting dogs pointing at invisible prey. Covering his face is a brass-colored raccoon mask, tied with red ribbon. His eyes are dark pools behind it, a halo of wild chocolate curls framing the edges. As much as you want to laugh at the raccoon mask, something about it on this man curls excitement in your stomach. It reminds you less of cute animal videos you send to your friends, more of glittering eyes in the dead of night, and the fear of a vicious bite. 

You extend your hand, and his palm is soft and large under yours. “Can it be…private?” you ask, already glimpsing the bold undressing of some guests, others watching on. 

“As the lady wishes,” he concedes, leading you away from the crowd. As you ascend a set of stairs, you converse again.

“Why do the hosts have so much fake artwork?” 

He snorts, keeping your hand in his.

“Because it’s expected. Big house has to be full of priceless art. But you can’t have priceless art in every house, so you compromise. Say it’s on loan, from a museum, from a friend. A grand lie they all pretend to believe.”

“And what’s in your house?” you ask, reaching the top of the stairs. He pauses, eyes roaming you appreciatively. 

“Knew I picked a clever one,” he says, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. “Only originals. My own.” He leads you around a catwalk and down a hall with several doors.

“So you’re an artist?” you ask, stroking your thumb along his. It makes him squeeze your hand back. 

“Among other things,” he murmurs before stopping in front of a door with a tag hanging off the handle. Pocketing it, he enters the bedroom, locking the door behind you. 

It’s too lavish, an abundance of velvet and ruffles that makes you smirk at the raccoon’s earlier comments. He steps in and stands at the foot of the bed, waiting for you to follow. The bravery you’d mustered earlier evaporates when the door shuts, and now you hover by the edge of the bed.

“Gatita, if this isn’t what you want, I’ll leave. It’s only fun if we’re both having it.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head, stepping closer. His hands come up to smooth over your arms, moving to cup the back of your neck. Tugging you into his broad chest, his fingers find your zip and pull it ever so slightly.

“Would you like to know what I want to do to you?” he breathes in your ear, and you manage a weak yes before he starts unzipping your dress tooth by tooth.

“I’m going to remove this dress, and tease your nipples through your bra before taking it off - one handed, of course. Then I’ll lay you back and pleasure your pretty pussy with my fingers until you’re begging for my cock. Once you’re ready to explode I’ll join you in the bed and put you on all fours so I can hit deep and hard inside you. Make you cum on my dick once, then do it again. Maybe even get you to squirt if you’ve never done that. After all that, if you’re very good for me, I’ll keep making you cum all night. How does that sound?”

Could you actually orgasm from his voice alone? You sincerely worry you will as your dress slips to the floor, leaving you in your prettiest lingerie pressed against his intoxicating silks. 

“What about the masks?” you manage to get out, the stiff covering starting to itch against your overheated face.

“Let’s leave them on for now. The mystery is half the fun,” he says, hands sliding up to cup your breasts and thumb lightly at your peaked nipples. You gasp, letting your head roll back. 

“Oh, gatita, I’ll make you feel so good tonight.”

True to his word, the raccoon touches and teases you within an inch of your sanity, talented fingers caressing every erogenous zone until you’re aching and shaking with need. You swear if he even circles your clit once you’ll cum so hard you’ll need an ambulance. Want and desire burns hot in your veins, hands searching for his skin and only getting small touches. The caress of your fingers along the open expanse of his chest. Fingers entwining as he presses you down into the mattress. The skin across his lower back. He keeps just far enough away to tease, but always close enough to work you to dizzying heights. 

“Please,” you whimper after the umpteenth time he’s worked you up and stopped before you could crest. Tilting his head, he leaves another featherlight touch over your clit.

“Ask me for it,” he gruffs out, voice even deeper with desire. “Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to be inside you.” 

The words tumble out of your lips. “Please fuck me, please, any way you want. I need to feel you inside me, need to cum around you. You’ll feel so good, I’ll make you feel so good…” You could beg for hours more but he’s turning you over and moving you up the bed, settling on his knees behind you. Tugging your hips, he lifts you to crouch, hands on the bed and feet planted under bent knees. The position is new to you, but the control you feel like this, hearing the condom wrapper rip and the pops of the last few buttons on his shirt, is thick in your veins.

“Tilt your hips,” he orders, and you arch your back to offer your needy cunt to him. He stretched you well on his fingers, but just the snug fit of his head pressing inside you widens your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re big,” you gasp, earning a soothing stroke over your hips.

“Sure know how to make my cock even harder, gatita. Say it again.”

You whine through your teeth as he sinks further in, stroking two fingers over your clit.

‘“Fuck, you’re so big, my pussy’s full of you, I don’t know how it’s gonna fit inside me but fuck, I want it.” The end rushes out as he shallowly fucks into you, letting you adjust to his girth.

“Oh gatita, don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” he promises, rolling his hips even deeper. Your arms shake with the effort of holding yourself up, mask hot and sticky with sweat as you pant into the fabric. You want nothing more than to rip it off and let him devour you, whoever he may be. 

Finally, he’s fully seated and you’re delirious with how stuffed you are. One slow stroke out makes you grip the sheets, waiting for him to fill you again.

He's not making you wait any longer. The pace is firm, steady to start, working you around his cock and soaking him with your arousal. Your calves begin to burn but you pay no mind, instead using the leverage to push back against him. He groans at this, helping guide your hips with his hot touch.

“Fuck, your pussy is goddamn divine, squeezing me so tight. I’m gonna make you cum around me and then I’ll give you what you deserve.” Your head spins as he speeds up, every thrust angled right into your g-spot with mind-blowing accuracy. Gathering slick from your dripping cunt, he circles your clit steadily as you clamp down on him, the precipice of your orgasm right at your fingertips.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming,” you squeak before your knees give out, arms buckling as you tumble into the pillows with every nerve ending singing his praises. He’s firm behind you, murmuring how good of a girl you are, how good you’re cumming on him, how hard he has to try not to cum yet. The praise melts you down into barely perceiving a world outside the pleasures of your body.

Once the aftershocks subside, your cunt even tighter around his throbbing cock, the man speaks.

“That was so good, gatita. Now hold on.” At that he begins well and truly fucking you, deep and fast with snarls dripped onto your skin. You half expect to feel a bite, but only his fingers dig in to your thighs to keep you pressed tight against him. You let him use your pussy, content just to feel him pulse inside, when his fingers return to your clit.

“Did you think I was done with this?” he pants, teasing the sensitive bud from overstimulation back to drenching pleasure as he coaxes another orgasm to the surface. “Together this time, on five, four, three…”

You can’t believe this man is going to orchestrate your orgasm, but just as he’s nearing one you feel the telltale tingle erupt into molten fire filling your lungs with a wild shout. He’s shouting too, buried in your cunt and shuddering. It takes long minutes for you both to catch your breaths, white spots dancing around the edge of your vision. Finally he eases out, tugging your knees back to lay you down. You welcome the change, body relaxing as you hear him throw out the condom and return with tissues.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” you say, still a little loopy from all the endorphins flooding your brain. The raccoon man chuckles as you turn and sit up, admiring him standing in those designer pajamas, bottoms pulled up but top still open. Your mind wanders to kissing every inch of his chest, sucking a hickey into his collarbone. A small fear in your chest, unknown even to you, falls away.

“I’d like to take the mask off,” you say, looking up at the raccoon man. His hands falter, coming to his waist and tapping nervously. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, trepidation in his voice. You nod.

“It’s okay, I’m a nobody,” you say, hands on the ribbon behind your head.

“I’m not,” he says quietly, stilling your motions. He’s turning away from you, tense and anxious. You know the feeling.

“You don’t have to. I won’t ask you to. But I'm okay with you knowing me.” You tug at the ribbons and let the cat mask fall away. You skin can finally breathe, making you sigh in relief. The raccoon’s eyes snap to you, and all the hard lines of his body soften.

“You’re...more beautiful than I hoped,” he says, awe in his voice. It makes your skin heat up again, a shy smile fighting on your face. It was kind of sweet, the idea that this stranger would know you for only this night, and that it could be your secret. Even your face would be his and his alone. 

Then his hands lift to the back of his head, and the racoon mask comes away in his palms. 

A blink. Then two. Then shock paints your face. 

Did Dieter fucking Bravo just ruin your pussy?

But he’s kneeling on the bed and kissing you breathless, tearing the rest of his clothes off, and you remember the night’s still very young. 

Maybe you could share a few more secrets.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x female reader #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble fic #prolix fics

[leclsrc]

wake up babe its # leclsrc3000 time... can we get a breathing deeply and bouncing legs for some wedding vibes w/ charlie (We being me and my 4 cats)

test run – cl16

Filled with nerves, Charles asks for advice on his vows.

auds here... i would love to see the cats <3 hope u like this!

“Okay.” Charles fiddles with his tie, blinks a few times, and takes a few nervous breaths. He’s confident in the words, but still his eyes find refuge on the tattered, folded-up script he’d spent the plane ride over reading and scribbling to perfection. “Okay, here goes. Don’t judge with the edits.”

“Do you remember when we first met—you made fun of my parking, and I bought you a coffee, and we stayed in the café until it closed at midnight? The coffee was shit, but I was full of energy all the same. If I told myself then I’d be marrying that girl, the parking bully who joined me in making fun of the coffee, I’d be shocked, yes. But I would also be happy. Everyday I get to be with you is shocking, because you’re the best person I know. But there are a few things you—and a lot of people in the crowd—don’t know about how we met.”

He gulps and reads over the lines for a bit. “For starters, I wouldn’t have parked outside that café if Lorenzo, my brother, did not pester me to get him a croissant at nine in the morning. And he wouldn’t have wanted the croissant if Pierre, my good friend, didn’t post a picture of a croissant the day before. And Pierre wouldn’t have posted that picture if he was not gifted a box of them by Lando. I could go on and on, but the sentiment stands, in a sort of soulmate roundabout way. I was destined to find you.

“It’s difficult for me to say the words I want to say, which is why my reception speech will be in Italian.But this doesn’t mean I don’t love you—in fact, I’m convinced it means the opposite. My love for you, however new it is in my life, can last me my next five lifetimes. I love our crazy days together, I love your coffee order, and I love that you still bully my parking. I love you, my dearest.”

He stares at the last two words, my dearest, which he’d written last minute. As he does, he realizes his knee’s bouncing with nerves and he has to manually stop it, lost in thought. It reminds him of all the nicknames he uses for the people he loves, unique and a bit silly, but it’s a trademark of who he is in the end. It reminds him of kisses and love and the proposal in late November. 

Two heavy inhales and exhales, then he looks up. Across him, in a bridesmaid’s dress holding a bouquet of lilies, you allow yourself to smile.

The stunning realization that you’ve loved much too late, that you’ve realized the gravity of your feelings on somebody else’s wedding day, hits you, a spear to the back. You turn slightly and face the window, watching the wedding prep on the lawn outside, trying with quiet desperation to blink your tears away. You hope he doesn’t ask too many questions, because you’re short of words; selfishly, all you really feel like saying is stay. It was a long time ago, being in love with him. But he let it go. It’s you who’s still tethered.

He comes up beside you. “Was it good?”

“Amazing. She’s going to love it.” In the pain and the haunting and the regret, you only wish you were lying.

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #i realized i've been tagging non smut as smut its muscle memz #sorry!!! will stop from now moving forward #loves

[storiesforallfandoms]

fluffy haired gamer boy ~ ranboo

word count: 2056

request?: yes!

“Oooo i saw you said you might write for Ranboo. I was wondering if I could request something. I've been having a rough few days and kinda just want some comfort fluff involving him if you could. You don't have to if you dont want to”

description: in which they’re a popular twitch streamer and their fans like to make jokes about their fellow gamer boyfriend

pairing: ranboo x gender neutral!reader

warnings: swearing, absolutely no plot other than fluff

masterlist (one, two, three)

(i just wanna note i started writing this before ranboo came out as nb and using he/they pronouns, for the sake of consistency and for the title i came up with beforehand i am using he/him pronouns and referring to him as “boyfriend”)

Behind every popular Twitch streamer is their fluffy haired, gamer boyfriend who brings just a sense of wholesomeness to every stream they are a part of.

I laughed at this once when it was brought up by a friend of mine as we were streaming one night.

“Not me!” I said, because I was an idiot and thought I was special. Because, at this point in time, I didn’t even have any plans on getting in a relationship. Even if I did, I wasn’t going to be public with my relationship. I was so sure that if I were to date someone, they wouldn’t be famous in the same way I was and I wouldn’t want to ruin their privacy by putting them out there for my hundreds of thousands of followers to see and harass and never leave alone.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

I met Ranboo for the first time after being invited to join the Dream SMP. I wasn’t much of a Minecraft fan and had no idea about the whole “SMP” stuff that had gotten so big on Twitch, but I decided to give it a try. Even if it was just one time to say that I did it. And I had become online friends with a few of the Dream SMP members, so I felt comfortable being brought into this world for the first time.

I don’t know what it was about him, but I was drawn to Ranboo almost immediately. I could barley form a sentence whenever I was talking to him. Every time he laughed, my heart would do a flip in my chest. As much as I wasn’t into Minecraft, I started putting up with playing it more just so I could spend time with him.

The day he messaged me asking if I wanted to call, just the two of us, no streaming and no video games, I almost jumped for joy. Quite literally.

And then, when he did call, he managed to make me feel so many emotions all at once.

“Hey,” I said when I answered his Discord call. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” he responded. Even with just the one word, I could tell something was going on.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah, everything is fine. I just...” He took a deep breath. This seriousness was starting to worry me. “I really like you, (Y/N). I’ve been enjoying getting to talk to you when we’re gaming together, but I want to have more than that. Like...more than friendship, even. And I know that’s a lot to ask when this is our first time talking outside of streaming, but I needed to tell you.”

I was silent for just a moment, before I started to laugh. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I think I was just so shocked by his confession that I had no idea how else to react.

“Ouch,” I heard him mutter to himself.

“No!” I said, finally regaining myself. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m not laughing at you. It’s just...I feel the same way about you. I have since we met, actually.”

We both laughed together upon realizing our similar situations.

That was the start of our relationship. We kept it a secret from our audiences for the first few months. It wasn’t hard when we lived in different states, so we weren’t physically together, and we didn’t act much different when we were playing together than we had before we started dating. The cat was let out of the bag when Ranboo came to surprise me at home, not realizing i was mid-stream when he did. We thought we could get around it by me ending the stream before anyone could see him, but unfortunately we didn’t take into account that my viewers would hear him. But, our fans were ecstatic with excitement when we finally confirmed we were together, and we were slightly relieved to not have to hide anymore.

But, with the fans finding out came the usual teasing from them. Someone found the clip of me and my friend talking about how I’ll never have a fluffy hair gamer boyfriend and started circulating it on Twitter. It became a running joke in my fandom. I couldn’t escape the damn clip.

Especially when I was streaming with Ranboo.

One night while we were streaming, my chat was just constantly filled with the quote I had said from the video.

“I’m going to shut off my chat at this rate,” I commented, only half joking.

“Why? What are they saying?” Ranboo asked.

“They’ve taken an old clip from one of my streams and made it the fandom joke. My entire chat is just them quoting the clip. It’s only, like, five seconds long, but at this rate it’s the longest five seconds of my life.”

There was no response to this. We were playing a game together, and it took me a moment to realize his character wasn’t moving either.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he responded.

“Okay, sure, I totally believe that.”

He was silent again. A quick glance to my chat gave me the answer: he was trying to find the clip on Twitter.

“Do not look up the clip!” I said, although I knew I was powerless at this point. He was in a completely different state, already in the process of looking for it on Twitter. I had no way of stopping him unless I was somehow able to get to his house hours away within a matter of seconds.

“Your viewers are so mean, they’re tagging me in tweets that include the clip,” he said, a light laugh in his voice.

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

Seconds of silence passed as Ranboo watched the video. I heard him chuckle slightly, then chuckle again as I assumed the video re-started.

“Is this what they keep quoting?” he asked.

“The part where I say I won’t be getting a fluffy hair gamer boyfriend? Yeah, that’s what my chat is full of right now.”

Well, actually, at that moment my chat was full of my viewers either apologizing over the fact that he had now seen the video, or laughing about the fact that he had. Twitch chats are the worst, let me tell you.

“How long ago was this before we met?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even remember saying it until someone tweeted the clip at me, like, the week after we announced we were dating.”

“Someone in my chat says it was a few weeks beforehand.”

“Y’all keep track of this?!” I asked my chat in disbelief. “How do you guys know that?!”

“The date on the VOD, I’d assume.”

“Okay, but still. You guys are scary.”

I managed to get the attention back to the game, mainly because we had forgotten to pause and Ranboo’s character was getting killed. I veered away from the topic of the video and tried to keep Ranboo distracted with the game. My chat, however, was a lost cause. They were still reveling in the fact that he had finally seen the clip. It seemed that this was going to be the new thing for my viewers to spam and meme me with.

When we finished playing, Ranboo said he was going to stay streaming for a bit because he was set to play with someone else. I could feel my eyes starting to burn from the strain of looking at my computer for so long (one of, if not the biggest downsides to being a streamer) so I decided to call it a night.

“I’ll call you when I’m finished streaming?” Ranboo asked.

“Yeah! I’ll be up for another while,” I responded.

The chat filled with messages about how cute we were - both positive ones and playful disgust ones.

We ended our Discord call and I said goodbye to my chat before shutting down my stream. I rubbed my tired eyes, trying to get some moisture back into them to help with the strained feeling, before getting up from my desk.

After streaming for a long time, I tried to stay away from screens for at least an hour. This included watching anything on my TV. So I decided to make something to eat, playing some music in the background so it wasn’t so quiet in my apartment. Once I finished eating, I went to get a quick shower, and then pulled on my pajamas and got into bed to start reading. I was starting to nod off when my phone started playing the tone for a Discord call. I placed my book on my nightstand and rolled over onto my side to answer it.

“You’re done playing already?” I asked.

“It was just a few rounds of Life,” he responded. “They wanted to play something else, but I wanted to call you before you went to bed.”

“Awe,” I teased.

He laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m cute. I know.”

I chuckled. I shifted under the covers to settle into my bed more. I had a feeling I was going to fall asleep during the call, which usually happened. I knew Ranboo would just hang up once he realized I was asleep.

“So,” he said, “you weren’t planning to have a gamer boyfriend, huh?”

I groaned and rolled my eyes, which made him laugh. “God, I hate that clip. It was funny at first, but now everyone spams me with it as if it’s the funniest shit they’ve ever seen. Like, I get it! I ended up with the exact thing I said I wasn’t going to have!”

“It’s just so ironic. Especially that you said it weeks before we met.”

I rolled onto my back and covered my face with my hands. “I had no intentions of dating when I said it. I’ve never really had a serious relationship, and I wasn’t about to have a public one with another streamer. Twitch relationships are full of all sorts of drama. Except for Ludwig and QT, but he’s a YouTube streamer now so it doesn’t count.”

“For the record, I also wasn’t planning to be in a relationship. I especially didn’t expect to meet someone through Minecraft of all games.”

I chuckled. “Really? Are you telling me Minecraft isn’t the ideal dating site?”

“No, I prefer Club Penguin. I used to get so many bitches on there.”

We laughed together. I looked up at the ceiling and felt my eyes beginning to droop. I wouldn’t have long till I was completely passed out, but I didn’t want to end the phone call just yet. I know I was streaming with him for hours beforehand, but there was a difference between talking to Ranboo while we were streaming and talking to him personally. I didn’t want to end our personal time just yet, even though my body was screaming at me that it was time for sleep.

“I’m glad you didn’t completely close your mind to the idea of - what did they call me? A fluffy haired gamer boyfriend,” he said.

I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the term exactly.”

“What does that even mean? Why is it so specific of a distinction?”

“Well, think of some of the people you’ve played with. Like...I don’t know...Karl. He’s a wholesome gamer boy with hair that’s considered fluffy. It’s, like, a whole genre of gamer men who aren’t toxic. That’s usually the type of person that other streamers end up with. It’s like the whole golden retreiver-black cat best friend dynamic I told you about once.”

“I still don’t understand how I’m a golden retriever.”

“You don’t have to understand, you just are.”

“Anyways,” he said, “as I was saying. I’m glad that you didn’t close your mind to the idea of a fluffy hair gamer boyfriend. Otherwise I wouldn’t have stood a chance. So, I guess there is some positives to stereotypes and whatnot.”

I sleepily smiled to myself. “I guess there’s not.”

“You sound like you’re falling asleep.”

I had lost the fight in keeping my eyes open. I was just barely registering anything Ranboo was saying to me. I tried to say something back, but it just came out as incoherent mumbling. I heard him chuckle and wish me a goodnight before I let the sleep take me over.

#ranboo #ranboo imagine #ranboo x reader #imagine #drabble #blurb #youtube imagine #youtube #twitch #twitch imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 2- "You're in my head..."

The beginning two weeks on tour were spent in the city of London, which I easily grewattached to. For the first handful of days, I fell into a comfortable routine of simplicity- I’d wake with Sam, have breakfast in the hotel with the rest of the band (avoid Oliver); set my sights on a few attractions; spend time in Hyde Park, catching up on my reading list; then return to the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner with Sam and the band. Most often, Oliver wasn’t there for those evening meals, said to be off somewhere, writing music, or having a smoke (thank God). I didn’t see him much outside of those breakfasts considering I was always off doing something and he had rehearsals. And I honestly liked it that way.

During the first two weeks in London, I tried to be nice to Oliver. I’d greet him every day at breakfast with a kind smile, a gentle, “Good morning, Oliver.” And he’d just ignore me. None of the others really considered it, or else I think they’d have said something to him. It was subtle enough that I could only ruminate over it in silence.

But, boy, did I notice the shitty behavior he exhibited towards me, that when I’d laugh too loudly at Max’s jokes or start up a conversation- breathe, basically- Oliver’s shoulders would tense. He’d sigh, just soft enough that I could hear it across the table. And, he’d become distant from the group, eyes glazed over, silent. If someone- other than me- said something to him, he’d respond. But, God forbid he say anything on his own accord.

From what I gathered, he had gotten to know me and, I guess, he just didn’t like me. Why he had covered up the time we had spent together on the roof, I did not know. Why he felt the need to completely ignore me- I really just didn’t understand it. And I didn’t think I wanted to. I was having the time of my life, catching matinees on the West End, spending time in the Natural History Museum, riding the London Eye. I wasn’t going to play cat and mouse or sparring enemies during this time in my life.

Usually, at least, back home, I was always too nervous to go out by myself, afraid I’d see family friends or exes I was trying to avoid. Here, I didn’t have to worry about that. I was a whole new person- a whole new woman. I could go anywhere, do anything, be whoever I wanted. Sure, it was lonely sometimes, shopping or discovering new coffee shops all by myself. But, it was healing, too. I was learning to enjoy my own company.

At the beginning of the second week, however, I had run out of things to do. Due to my newfound luck, rehearsals had ended for the band Saturday, and they had the week off- save for Friday, when they’d perform, and the weekend, when we’d be heading up to Newcastle for the next show. But for now, Sam had an open schedule.

We toured the city together for a few days, spending more time together in those short hours than we had in nearly five years. We had a pretty close relationship, but due to our conflicting schedules and busy lives, it was rare that we found space to be with each other like this. It was cathartic- catching late lunches together, touring museums, art galleries, tourist attractions. Mom would’ve really loved to be there with us, in such a dream city, and I know we both held that thought close to our hearts for the entire week.

I didn’t attend their concert that weekend, involved with my own plans. I wanted to come see them perform at some point, but I almost wanted to spite Oliver by not going, too. It was, after all, his band, his music. So, instead, I planned on going to a local dive bar that was holding an open mic night. In such a vast, diverse city, I was sure to find fun there.

That morning, though, at breakfast, I almost changed my plans.

I sat down beside Sam, a plate of toast and eggs in my hands. Max looked up from his phone, where he had been texting someone, and grinned at me, “Morning, lovely. Sleep okay?’’

I nodded appreciatively, “I’ve gotten used to the time change already.”

“Just wait,” Sam stabbed at his stack of pancakes. “Italy is in a week. It’ll fuck you up again.”

“Oh, it’s worth it. I’ve gotten to do so much these past two weeks. It’s insane.”

Cy took a sip of his coffee before adding in, “Oh, to see London through the eyes of a tourist. I’m sure it’s nothing short of magical.”

“Gonna have a hard time leaving, that’s for sure,” I bit off a piece of toast as I replied.

Oliver and Adam joined us now, Adam rattling off some guitar notes to the singer. Their conversation was just background noise to ours, as Sam then spoke to me, brushing his hands free of crumbs from his toast, “Listen, I have your stage pass in my bag. You have to wear it to get into the venue or go backstage, okay? Don’t lose it. I won’t be able to check my phone much today, so I can’t help you out if you do.”

I looked up from my plate, a guilty frown settling into my face, “Oh. Um…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m gonna go tonight.”

Everyone turned their attention to me fully, even Oliver, though he seemed to look past my head, avoiding my eyes. Their expressions weren’t necessarily confused, but wondorous, curiously surprised by my declaration.

“You’re not coming?” Max asked, his tone a bit hurt.

I shrugged slowly, “I’m so sorry. I had plans to go out. But, I can- I can always change them-?”

“No, don’t do that,” Cyrus waved me off, defending my choice, “you’re allowed to do your own thing. You’re not obligated to come see us.”

“I mean, I will…eventually. I just…there’s so much I wanna do, ya know?” I stuttered a bit, my face flushed from my guilt. I knew they weren’t mad, but I felt like I was letting them down.

Max pouted as he crossed his arms, “So, we’re just not as important, love? I see how it is. Here I thought we had something special.”

“I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll come to a show sometime. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedu-” I chuckled slightly through my words to make the point that I was being sarcastic. But, then, someone interrupted me.

Everyone glanced at Oliver as he stood, chair scraping against the ground. He was pulling a cigarette from an emptying pack, balancing it between his lips. Then, he walked, so quickly, yet so casually, away from our table, towards the exit.

“Even Ollie’s hurt,” Max pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

Funny thing is, I don’t think Max was too far off with his observation. Why else had Oliver stormed off like a child, leaving a full plate of food where he had been sitting?

-

Our first travel day was hectic. We had to wake up, bright and early Saturday morning, in order to board the tour buses waiting outside of the hotel. I was a little nervous to spend the next two days inside of the vehicle, eating, sleeping, and basically living within its confines.

But then it came easy. I slept in late, finding my bunk to be a lot more comfortable than it looked. Cy had joined our bus for that first morning, he and Sam working on some drum rhythm for a new song, or something of the sort. On our bus, too, was Ronnie, Sam’s close friend- he insisted- the band’s tour manager, whom I was growing to love.

She was all tattoos, colored hair, and bad-ass energy. She swore like a sailor, said whatever came to mind, and treated the boys like stupid little teenagers. I loved it. I found myself giggling at everything she said, especially when the boys would be too loud at a gas station, and she’d scold them. Whenever Oliver would grace us with his presence on these outings, he’d glare at my laughter, as per usual.

Anyways, I think I was a difficult pill for Ronnie to swallow at first, being so feminine in comparison to her more masculine demeanor. But, we began to really bond that first afternoon on the bus.

While Cy and Sam occupied the back room, drum pads rattling beneath their sticks, Ronnie and I took up the couches towards the front of the bus. I had just gone out for a cup of tea, hoping it would wake me up and encourage me to read or something. Instead, I ended up playing countless rounds of Mario Kart with Ronnie. I was never really into video games, but playing with her was so fun, and we just couldn’t stop. She teased me for being such an amateur, for choosing Princess Peach when she played as Bowser.

But, then we got to talking- about my favorite Taylor Swift songs, ex-boyfriends, childhood trauma. She was wise beyond her years and a comforting, womanly presence to have.

“Sam told me a little bit, but I never got the full picture. What are you going to school for?”

I glanced over at her, nearly crashing my kart because of the sharp corner I had to cut. “Oh, yeah, um…counseling. To get my LPC, so I can practice.”

“A woman in STEM,” she nodded slowly, a slight smile on her face. Her eyes were focused on the tv screen, but they held a glint of humor. “Hey, I respect it. That’s a difficult job. You like it so far?”

“I liked undergrad,” I shrugged. “I’m kind of scared about my master’s, though.”

She elbowed me softly, in an attempt to offer up some semblance of encouragement, “Don’t be. You’re not dumb. You’ll figure it out.” She was the type of person to not really compliment others, so it was sweet that she was trying for me, someone she barely even knew.

“Thank you,” I grinned over at her as our match ended.

She met my eye, fought back the wide smile itching at her face, and rolled her eyes, “Cmon, peaches. I wanna kick your ass on rainbow road.”

We continued on bantering, chatting about whatever came to mind. I knew then that she’d be a rock to turn to this summer, this suspicion exemplified by the fact that she even said she’d listen to one of the songs I mentioned, though she was a metal-lover, through and through. I was becoming like an exception to everyone, a bright, soft spot of sunshine in the black-clothed masses of this touring crew. It was heartwarming to be so beloved, even if no one would say those words directly (besides Max, of course).

So, what if Oliver didn’t like me? All of his fucking friends did.

-

So, things were coming up Daisy. I was making friends- most notably, Max, Cyrus, and Ronnie. Sam was right- Cy was incredibly smart. We spent a lot of time on the bus that weekend- and the next, when we traveled further up England- discussing school, psychological theories, cognitive studies. He knew a lot about a lot and it was stimulating to get to have such intelligent conversations.

Max was a handful, of course. Again, Sam being right- Max loved to flirt with me. I think it got on my brother’s nerves, but I found it to be a fun little game. At breakfast, back in London, he’d greet me every morning with a pleasant grin, a compliment on my hairstyle for the day or my lip stick color.

Of course, it would be followed by, “Would look better on me.” To which, I would laugh hysterically and Sam would try to fling eggs at his boss.

When this particular flirtation had been spent, I glanced around the group, giggling, when my eyes landed on Oliver. He was actually looking up, and at one point, he met my eyes. My bright grin did not falter, not until his lingering stare turned into a roll in his eyes. He looked back down at his phone and I decided then and there that I would not spend another minute ruminating on him and his negative energy.

Adam and I got along, but we weren’t super compatible, which I didn’t mind. Not everyone always matched with one another. We shared pleasant greetings and didn’t mind sitting next to each other at breakfast. He seemed to just keep to himself most of the time, anyways. Not that he didn’t spend time with the group. He just- was quiet, reserved.

We’d finished up the tour dates scheduled in England during those first three weeks. It had felt like a year long journey but, in reality, they’d only performed about six concerts in that time. We still had two and a half months to go. I was elated. Time on the bus was relaxing, passing by quicker than I thought it would. Though Cy’s bunk was on the other bus, he spent most of his time with us, with Sam. Max would even bus hop, opting for group movie nights with us or games of poker. We sometimes roped Adam into it, but Oliver never budged. His band mates would call him lame, tease him for being such a n introvert, but gave up once he’d roll his eyes at them.

I wondered how they put up with his shitty attitude all the time. It must be frustrating, this annoyance only made worse by the fact that he was so fucking talented. I refused to listen to their music anymore than what Sam had already shown because I just didn’t want to give Oliver the satisfaction, even if he wouldn’t know about it.

IdontcareIdontcareIdontcare. I had to remind myself that a lot.

The next two stops were in Italy, where we’d be for just a week and a half. The evening before we boarded the plane that would take us there, however, we all decided to get out for a big dinner. It was the first time I’d really be hanging with the entire group, outside of our bus and hotel breakfasts. I wanted to look good, knowing they were used to seeing me in sweats, hoodies, jeans, so I spent a bit of time getting myself ready.

Sam barely dressed up, opting for jeans and a nicer jumper, black Vans a staple to all his outfits. I picked out one of the nicer dresses I’d packed, blush pink, with a square neckline, sheer long sleeves, and a length that cut off above my mid-thigh. I wore my black platform boots, gold jewelry, and did my hair up in this silk bow I had purchased back in London. This was the first time on this trip that I felt really good about how I looked. Oliver’s burning hatred for me only made me more insecure than I already was. Not tonight.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting me, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I opened the bathroom door, my boots noisy on the carpeted floor. A sweet smile came across his face. He slid his phone into his pocket and stood to take me in. His head tilted to the side.

“What?” I rubbed my hands down the front of my dress, feeling overanalyzed by his gaze.

“I don’t tell you enough Daz, but you’re beautiful,” Sam nodded, just once. Usually, I’d make fun of him for being so cheesy, so affectionate. But, this summer was bonding us more.

Instead, I grinned at my brother, but still reached out to playfully punch his arm. “Thanks, Sam-Ham.”

“Hey, you’ve done pretty well at not using that so far. Think the guys forgot about that one time.” We headed for the door now, back on our bantering like usual.

I shrugged at his comment, countering with, “Maybe I should remind them of it, then.”

Sam held the door open for me, but, as I said those words, he tried to shove it close on my moving body. I yelped at the impact and then dug my heels into the carpet as I pushed back against his weight. He laughed, heartily, before giving up on shutting me in. Because I was pushing so hard, I toppled out into the hallway, breathless, nearly falling on my face. Sam caught my shoulders and pushed me back on my feet.

As I looked up, I saw Oliver, standing outside of his own room, a quiet smile on his face. He had been observing our antics, passively, with an amused glint in his eye. I grinned back at him, my stupid heart feeling hopeful for some semblance of a spark to catch between us. As if he realized it was my eyes he was looking into, he turned his head.

But, then, just as quickly as he peeled his gaze away, he put it back on me. On my boots, fiery brown eyes dragging themselves up my body. They lingered over the curve of my hips, the peaks of my breasts, my glossy lips and, then, my eyes. He seemed to smirk at me, flashed his eyes, then turned on his heel and headed for the elevator.

Sam hadn’t noticed the longing gaze Oliver burned into me because Ronnie was approaching us from down the hall. She didn’t really go to breakfast or dinner with us because she was always on the move. But, luckily, she was able to make it out tonight. And, whenever Ronnie was around, Sam was more than distracted.

I was too focused on Oliver, myself, staring at his retreating back with a slack jaw. Goosebumps littered the skin exposed on my chest, my legs, a chemical reaction eliciting itself from his burning eyes. What the fuck was that? I knew, deep in my soul, that I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was literally just a stupid man, and I was dressed in little to no clothing. As long as a vagina had legs, men would fuck the most insufferable of women. That was just it- right?

I didn’t have time to focus on my own racing thoughts, however, because Ronnie was talking to me now, teasing me about my dress, which I knew, for her, was just a hidden compliment.

“Jesus, it’s like Princess Peach in real life,” she chuckled, eyeing me up.

I turned to the two of them, licking my lips as if to snap myself out of my lucid trance. “Huh? Oh…uh- insert funny Princess Peach line,” I shook my hands around, forcing a smile upon my face, as I tried to banter back.

“Something like, ‘save me, Mario!”’ Sam mocked the character in a high-pitched voice.

This finally distracted my brain enough. Ronnie and I shared a humorously surprised expression, eyed Sam, before bursting out into laughter.

“That was fucking terrible!” Ronnie exclaimed, smacking Sam in the bicep. “I loved it.”

We made our way to the elevator, still teasing Sam for his terrible impression. He tried to save himself by acting like Mario, but that was just another train wreck, in and of itself.

“I’m-a sorry! Please-a forgive me-a!” He lifted his arms in a strange manner as he made another horrid impression. Ronnie held a finger up to her lips, “No, no. Shhhhhh…no, just…no.” I giggled into my hand.

We were supposed to meet the others down in the lobby, where we would take a pair of taxis down the street to some five-star restaurant the boys had recommended. I was lucky to have saved up so much at my job back home, to be able to do stuff like this all summer. I don’t think I’d ever been to such a fancy place before. I was more than excited.

When we stepped off the elevator, we spotted our group by the front doors. Max was in a sweater, jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets as he spoke to Adam, who was also dressed nicer than normal. He looked over the guitarist's shoulder as the elevator dinged and spotted me immediately. Max gawked at the sight. He interrupted his band mate’s conversation in order to whistle. I flushed red, eyes rolling, though I secretly appreciated all the attention I was garnering with this little outfit.

“Oh, my god,” Ronnie murmured to herself, pressing a hand to her forehead as though he was stressing her out. She and Sam moved off, out of the way, as Max approached.

He brushed past Adam, looking me up and down. He reached out for my hands, taking my fingers in his large hold. He lifted my arms up, as if to get a better examination of me. “Love, you look fucking gorgeous!”

I shook my head, grinning at the compliments, and it ruffled my hair over my shoulders. It drew Max’s attention to my intricate hairstyle. He moved his hand to touch my neck, softly, and turned my head to admire the hairstyle.

“Wow, love, just; wow!” Max appreciated me some more, settling a blush across my cheeks.

Then, he pulled me to stand beside him, looping my hand through his arm, laying it around his bicep. “Come on, love; you’re my date for this evening. Yeah?”

“Sure,” I patted his bicep. “Whatever you say.”

Max groaned, head tilted back, eyes shut. “Don’t say that! That’s dangerous-“

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Sam called from his spot beside Ronnie, a finger pointed warningly at Max. I hung my head, giggles falling from my mouth. Ronnie looked amused at the confrontation.

Max raised his own hand in defense, “Okay, okay. I’ll even admit that one was a little…out there.” Sam nodded firmly with a disapproving smile. Max tilted his head down towards me, his expression more polite now, words close to my ear. “Sorry, love.”

I leaned into his arm, winking slightly, “Don’t be. I liked it.”

“Oh! That’s my girl,” Max tapped my nose sweetly.

I was on top of the world. I looked good- even Oliver thought so- I felt good. I was in the most beautiful country, surrounded by people I was forming tightly-knit relationships with. Nothing could ruin my elated mood.

I didn’t even care that Ronnie, Sam, and Adam had piled into the one taxi, leaving Max, Oliver, Cy, and I to share the other. I didn’t care that I’d have to share such a small space with the most insufferable man in the world.

Cy chose to sit up front, cutting off Oliver, who had most definitely been headed in that direction. Cy didn’t notice, though. His action was sacrificial for everyone else, not intentionally manipulative towards his band mate. Oliver, however, seemed to take it to heart, frowning deeply at the rejection and fisting his hand into his hoodie pocket.

I watched all this occur as Max opened the door to the taxi, helping me inside the back seat. “You okay in the middle?” He asked, head dipped inside the vehicle.

I nodded, “No worries.” I only realized after I saw Oliver round the car that this meant I’d be sitting flush against him.

I didn’t care. Though my face flushed with anticipatory anxiety, I didn’t care. I didn’t care- was that his cologne in the air- nope. Don’t care.

Max piled in, softly shutting the door behind him, leg and shoulder pressed up against my own. I buckled myself in just as Oliver opened the door. I tried to offer a sweet smile, still choosing kindness over returning his awful behavior. He didn’t mirror any gesture in return. My smile faltered.

No. I wouldn’t let him ruin this for me. Tonight was going to be fun, whether he wanted it to be or not. If he chose to sulk in my presence, then that was his problem. I shook my shoulders about, basically shaking him off of me. Though, it would be my problem during the car ride. He slid into the seat next to me and I swear I could feel his negative energy fill up the car. Besides, he was tall, legs and arms long, shoulders wide. I know he was trying to shove himself up against the door, but he couldn’t just not touch me. His thigh was warm against mine, his shoulder tense. I leaned into Max to try to give him more space, but that was unfair to him.

The bassist shifted in return, looking down at me, apologetic for thinking he had taken up too much space, “Sorry, love.”

“S’okay,” I looked away from Oliver, focusing my attention on the road before us as the driver pulled out of the parking lot. I tried to sink into myself. But, I was still flush against either man.

I could smell Oliver’s cologne, too. It was sweet, musky. It overwhelmed my senses. Though I tried to process Max and Cy’s blossoming conversation, appeal myself to them and only them, all I could think about was Oliver. How he smelled. The curve of his thigh.

Oliver’s large hand on his knee, slender fingers curved over top of the limb. Oliver’s chest, in the corner of my eye, moving up and down slowly, in a controlled rhythm of breathing. Oliver’s scent, so strong to my senses, so…distracting. He smelled so damn good.

I shifted in my seat again. My thigh pressed up against his more. I squeezed my legs together to avoid his, but there wasn’t enough room. I glanced at him, an apologetic smile on my lips.

He looked down at me, lips pursed slightly. I held his eyes for a moment, trying to read his expression. Just as I went to turn my head away, his eyes dipped down, over the peaks of my breast again.

Okay, he was not helping the situation. The way he looked more over was just making him seem more attractive to my stupid brain.

I flushed, skin spotting with color from the red blush. I took a deep breath, chest rising and falling as I tried to control the heat in my body. I saw from the corner of my eye that Oliver was still staring at me. He shifted this time, tugging his hoodie down his belt. I furrowed my brows at the movement, flicking my eyes over his lap, where the hem of his jacket had now settled. Oliver coughed, large hand holding the edge of his hoodie down over where he had moved it to. I did a double-take, realizing after a moment what that meant.

He had a boner.

He had a boner because of me.

Oliver had a boner because of me.

Oh, God.

I couldn’t think straight. I clutched the edge of my dress, knuckles white from the pressure in them. My chest only fell faster, breathing short, goosebumps littering my flushed skin again. I could feel Oliver look over at me, over and over. He just couldn’t look away. He shifted countless more times, thigh pushing against mine. It sprouted a wildfire across my skin.

I didn’t want to play games, but he was making it impossible to be the neutral position in this narrative. One day, he hated me, rolling his eyes at my laughter. Then, the next, he’s checking me out, battling a boner in the seat beside me? So, maybe I should just choose a side. Maybe I should play back.

I spread my legs, only a centimeter due to the lack of space I had, pressing my thigh into his more. It was noticeable to him, and him only.

He felt the pressure, eyes dragging down my body to my leg. The hand he still had curved over his leg squeezed his knee cap, knuckles flushing white, like my own. I smirked to myself, though I knew he could see the expression on my face. He let out a breathless huff, as if he was struggling to get air into his lungs.

Eventually, we made it to the restaurant. I continued pushing my leg into his, though he slowly began to cower into the corner of the car, knee turning towards the door. I felt victorious, confident in the way I had made his body react.

Though my hands still shook from the heat of the moment. The game paused during dinner. Oliver went back to ignoring me, eyes trained on the menu or his lap. I knew it was partially because he didn’t want to have a boner in front of our friends. Though, he conversed a bit more tonight, to Ronnie about tour dates, to his band mates about the setlist, to Sam about some stupid bit they were all involved in. I knew it was just because of the camaraderie between everyone.

Everyone had a really good time, myself included, though I was sweating. We were all laughing, sharing stories over numerous glasses of wine. Of course, my hand was a little heavier than the other’s when I’d poured myself some of the maroon colored liquid. I needed to drink in order to get through this painful plane of existence. This was not how I thought the night would go, but there was no going back now. I needed to make him uncomfortable, needed him to see me. He couldn’t ignore me any longer. Not now, not when I knew that I had him in such a taunting way. When dessert was brought out- slices of chocolate cake- I stepped back into the game. I was a little more brave now, encouraged by the wine. I was tipsy, sure, but I also knew exactly what I was doing.

Oliver was seated right across from me, accidental on either of our ends. But, lucky, nonetheless. I pushed my feet out underneath the table, taking up more space than I needed to. Eventually, the toes of my boots hit the tips of his black converse.

He had been eating his cake, eyes trained on the white cloth of the table. But, when I knocked our shoes together, his eyes flinched up, towards me. His brows furrowed. He dipped his head down and lifted the cloth up slightly to look at our shoes under the table. Oliver met my eyes again. He rolled his eyes and went back to his cake. I smirked to myself. He thought I was just being stupid, stretching my legs out. No- I was a smart girl. I knew what I was doing. This was all intentional. I hated him, but he thought I was hot. So, I could finally get back at him for all of his shitty behavior. Could use my good looks to my advantage.

I put my boot atop one of his converse. His foot wriggled beneath mine, in an attempt to knock it off. But, I pressed down, keeping it there. Oliver looked back up, annoyance evident in his face.

I took the opportunity to have a bit of my cake, slipping the fork between my lips slowly, tongue flicking out to swipe the bottom of it seductively. Oliver’s eyes widened as I drug the utensil from my lips. I twisted it around in my mouth, cleaning off every inch, lips pursed. He sat up in his seat.

I had his full attention now.

I scooped more cake onto my fork, though I didn’t bite into it this time. Instead, I licked the fork, dragging it down my tongue. Oliver’s eyes watched my mouth, his own tongue flicking out over his lips.

I swallowed, noticeably so. He shifted in his seat, hands in his laps now. I set my fork down, leaned back in my seat, and crossed my arms. I let myself grin at him, having successfully made his dick hard again. He was a stupid, easy boy. It didn’t matter who I was- so long as I was wearing skimpy clothes and being sexy- he was weak. Sure, he probably still couldn’t stand me- but his dick was hard.

Oliver’s jaw clenched. He tilted his chin up towards me, as if to say, “Okay. I see how it is.”

I flicked my brows at him, reaching out for my wine glass, and maintaining eye contact as I took a long swig. “Should we go out for drinks?” Max asked from his end of the table.

I glanced down at him, my wine glass empty now. Sam wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, searching everyone’s expressions. “Could be fun,” I shrugged. “Yeah, I could go for some beer,” Adam shrugged from his seat.

Ronnie nodded, too, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Cyrus raised a hand to motion to the waitress that we needed our checks. I reached around to the back of my chair as she approached, ready to grab my wallet. Though we had already laid out how the checks would be split, she never gave me mine.

I furrowed my brows as she passed over me, handing out bills to everyone else. But, then I saw Sam laying his card down on his bill and nodded to myself. When we left the restaurant, and began walking down the street to the closest bar, I caught up to him and Ronnie. I looped my arm through his, gaining his attention, “Thanks, Sam Ham.”

He looked confused by my gratitude, but didn’t have time to focus on that because he was too busy being offended by my choice of nickname. He moved to fuck with me, to tickle my waist or something, but I quickly ran from him. Max and Adam were walking a few feet ahead of us. Laughing loudly, I headed to them, running in front of Max. The wine I had drank was making me loud, silly. I appreciated the ability to relax, unwind. Be myself without any filters holding me back.

Max nearly tripped over me, but when he heard Sam calling out, trying to get to me, he quickly grabbed me by the waist. “Leave my girl alone, you monster!” Max shouted, tossing me over his shoulder and racing further down the street.

I clutched onto his arms, yelping at the hectic movement. We reached the bar before everyone else, Sam having given up on chasing us after he nearly tripped on the curb. I watched them all approach where we stood from over Max’s shoulder, breathless.

I patted his back and said, “Okay, thanks, but you can let me down now.”

“Mhm,” Max turned towards the group. “Appreciating the view, love.”

“Max,” Ronnie was even getting protective over me. She moved in front of us, an annoyed look on her face, “You’re disgusting.”

Max huffed, and replied, “Okay, okay, here,” before settling me back on my feet. He grinned down at me, booped my nose again before heading into the bar with Adam, Ronnie, and Sam.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Cy and Oliver, having been trailing behind our group. Cy smiled kindly, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. I noticed Oliver was looking up at the sky. I trailed my eyes down over his body, towards his crotch curiously. His black skinny jeans looked just a liiiiittle bit tight, again.

I smirked to myself. “Cmon, Cy,” I pushed Oliver gently out of the way in order to grab onto his friend’s arm. We walked into the bar, leaving Oliver in the dust. I made sure to swing my hips just so for his gaze, which I was positive was glued to my ass.

The game was back on. And he would lose.

-

Max handed me yet another drink, a sweet, drunken smile on his face. “Here you are, lovey.”

“Thank you, friend!” I wriggled around on the bar stool happily. I lazily wrapped my lips around the thin black straw in the glass I now held tightly in my hand. The bitter taste of alcohol, diluted by the cherry grenadine and orange slice clipped onto the rim of the glass, flooded my tongue. I shut my eyes as I enjoyed the taste, drunk enough that it didn’t actually matter how gross vodka was.

I set the glass back down upon the bar, then twisted my stool around to observe the small dance floor. It was some local dive bar we’d settled on, a place Max had been to loads of times before. It was getting crowded, especially as the night wound down. Every seat at the counter was full, the tables were occupied, and everyone on said dance floor was pushing up against each other. The couples dancing there were sights for sore eyes, all sloppy hips and wandering hands.

I moved my head side to side, with the rhythm of the song playing, lips pursed. I knew some of the words, mostly just the chorus, so I sang along when I could. I glanced over to the pool tables when I heard Sam and Ronnie cheer loudly. They were playing against Adam and Cy, who seemed to be losing quite badly. I giggled to myself as Sam chest-bumped with Ronnie.

Max, who had been talking to Oliver, who was sitting- sulking- beside us, turned his attention back to me. I was still his ‘date’ for the evening, so he had refused to let me buy my own drinks. This was incredibly dangerous. Not including the two glasses of wine I’d had back at the restaurant, I was already on my fourth drink. The liquor was making my stomach warm, my limbs loose. As for Oliver…I had been too busy enjoying myself in the bar to play with him. I was feeling like just giving up, satisfied with what I’d accomplished, growing bored of him as the alcohol filled up my attention. Besides, the man seemed uninterested in anything anymore.

“I still owe you a dance, don’t I, lovely?” Max’s voice was low in my ear, his cheek brushing against my hair.

I grinned up at him, “I think you owe me at least two.”

Max dipped his head back to swallow the rest of his drink before offering me his hand. As he did, Whitney Houston began playing. My mouth opened wide in excitement. I hopped off the bar and drugged him behind me, jumping to the rhythm with each step I took towards the floor. I sang to Max, holding onto his hand, pointing with every lyric, popping my hips. He swayed, but mostly let me have my moment. He pulled me every so often and my hair would whip past my shoulders.

“Spinning through the town- ah!” I squealed as Max spun me towards his chest. I clutched onto his shoulders as he dipped me, hands low on my back. As I hung there in the air, I burst out laughing, my head falling further backwards.

When I opened my eyes, I caught sight of Oliver, now turned in his stool to face the dance floor. He wasn’t smiling, no, he was basically incapable of doing so. But, there was a small curl in his lips, a glint in his dark eyes each time the flashing lights burned his pupils. Nevermind. I was back in. I was so back in the game that it was probably unhealthy, and I’d probably regret it. The song ended, and, to my luck, S&M by Rihanna began playing. I grinned at Max as my back straightened up, my chest pressed against his.

He tilted his head at me with a playful smile, “I have a feeling Sam won’t like this.”

I wrapped my arms around Max’s neck, pushing myself flush against him. I stood on my tiptoes, glossy lips barely ghosting his earlobe as I whispered, “I don’t care.”

As I pulled away, I watched Max throw his head back and roll his eyes. “You’re killing me, love!”

“Good!”

The chorus began thumping through the speakers. I pushed Max’s leg through my own, feeling his boney hips against mine. I rolled my waist to his, tossing my hair back, leaning into his hands. He pushed his touch lower, over the curve of my tailbone, dangerously close to my ass. We danced through the song, pushing into each other, hips rolling. As it reached the bridge, Max pushed me away, still holding my hand, encouraging me to dance on my own for a moment. I did, jumping around, screaming the lyrics, hair whipping over my face. Max then spun me back into his chest.

When I thumped against his body, I knew I was going to puke. Vile pushed up my throat and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I stumbled, ripping my hand from Max. He was speaking to me, asking if I was okay, or something of the sort, but I couldn’t hear him.

I needed to get away- get to the bathroom, get fresh air, something. I didn’t know where the ladies room was, so I b-lined for the front door, tripping through the crowd, until my fingers touched the push bar handle. My knees scraped against the pavement as I fell into the curb, retching the contents of the dinner I’d had into the bushes outside the bar. I tried to brush my hair from my face, but it was sticking to my face in bunches, sweat acting as a bondant.

Out of nowhere, I felt someone else’s warm hands on my neck, fingering my hair back into their fist, peeling strands from my cheeks and lips. I braced my hands against the dirt of the curb and some of it lodged up under my fingernails. My knees were burning, probably all cut up from my crash landing.

After a few minutes of relentless gagging, my stomach was finally empty. I pushed myself back onto my ass, tears dripping down my cheeks, black mascara smudging all the way down to my neck. My back pressed up against the stranger’s chest. I felt my shoulders shaking from the exertion my body had just gone through.

“It’s okay,” they were shushing me throughout it all, their voice now processing in my ears. They wrapped an arm around my waist, hugging me to their chest as they swayed us slightly. Their other hand continued brushing my hair from my face soothingly, coaxing me down from the high of the moment. “It’s okay, Daisy. You’ll be okay.”

“I wanna go home,” I sobbed slightly, words slobbered from my salivating lips.

“I know, I know, s’okay,” they continued soothing me. “Think you can stand?”

I glanced down, looking over the hand that was helping me. Silver rings adorned the person’s long, slender fingers, and their pale wrist led into an arm that disappeared under a black sweatshirt. As my brain processed their voice, their sweet smell of cologne that was encasing me, my eyes widened.

“Ol-” my voice cracked, “Oliver?”

He peered over my shoulder as I looked back at him, managing to meet his eyes. “Yeah? You okay? Think you can stand, darling?”

I wanted to be angry, to jump up and yell at him for being so fucking weird, for acting like my existence was a burden, but falling to his knees whenever I was in danger. But, I couldn’t right now. I just wanted to go home. Back to the hotel, curl up in bed.

“N-no,” I admitted guiltily, brows furrowed. “I…don’t feel good.”

“S’okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. Here,” Oliver braced my back with a hand as he stood, ensuring I wouldn’t fall over onto the sidewalk. When he settled onto his feet, he pulled his phone from his pocket, shot a quick text to someone. Then, he crouched down, scooped me up, easily, into his arms. I lazily wrapped my hands around his neck.

The crevice of his shoulder was warm, so I nuzzled my head there. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping rapidly through his hoodie. I focused on the sound as he began walking. My eyes, unwillingly, fluttered shut. I didn’t know where we were going or, honestly, what the fuck was happening. But, I couldn’t care. I just needed my world to stop spinning. Besides, being so close to him felt…good. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true. But, he was…he felt good.

Eventually, I guess, we made it back to the hotel. I came to from my sleepy trance when I heard the elevator ding. I took in a sharp gasp of breath, lifting my head from Oliver’s chest.

“Doing okay, Daisy?” He looked down at me. I felt us shift as the elevator lifted up on its track. I shook my head, only having enough energy to do so once, frowning deeply, “Not really.”

“S’okay, darling, we’re almost there,” Oliver assured me. My brows furrowed when I heard the pet name pass through his lips. “What?” I questioned. I suppose he’d used it a few times now, but this was the first I’d noticed it. It was…entrancing.

Oliver glanced back at me, having trained his eyes back on the doors before us, “Said we’ll be there soon, yeah?” “Darling,” I whispered, mostly to myself as I lay my head back into his neck.

I heard him chuckle softly, as though he heard my inquiring tone. The noise rattled against my cupped ear, deep, hollow in his chest. I liked the sound. I wanted to hear it more often. I cooed and felt Oliver’s chest constrict beneath my chin, as though he was taking a deep breath. We were moving again, down the hallway, towards mine and Sam’s room. Oliver stopped outside of it and shifted me in his arms. “Okay, darling, need your help here. I’ve got your purse. Could you get in it, get your key? Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

My mind was so rattled by his free use of the sweet names that I struggled to focus on the task at hand. Jaw slack, I stared up at him, hypnotized. He smiled down at me, still humored by my shock.

“Darling? Please? Your purse.”

‘‘Purse,” I nodded slowly. Then, somehow, I managed to reach for the pink strap slung over his shoulder. I fished my purse into my lap, dug around, trying to find my wallet. As I continued to search for it, I began to grow frustrated. I just wanted to close my eyes, go to sleep. “Can’t find it.” I began to cry again, sniffling lamely.

He soothed me with soft hushes, “S’okay. Darling, s’okay. You can just..” he huffed as he tried to come up with a solution. He peered down the hallway, towards his room. “You can just stay in my room. Don’t cry, Daisy. S…okay.”

He seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than me. He backtracked down the hallway, stopping before his door now. “Okay, just one more favor, darling. Can you do that for me? One more?”

“Yes,” I slurred.

Oliver tapped his fingers against the underside of my thigh. It released a net of butterflies in my stomach. “Can you reach into my back pocket, get my wallet? Yeah?”

I shifted in his arms, straining my arm over his shoulder as I reached for the wallet he spoke of. With a few soft groans from me, and the help of Oliver, who lifted me up further so I could reach, I retrieved it. I flipped it open, eyes immediately drawn to his driver’s license in the clear slot.

“You’re cute,” I muttered to myself, rubbing a finger across the picture. “December 22. Your birthday is seven months away.”

“Yes, it is, darling,” he chuckled down at me. “Now, listen-“

“My birthday is next month,” I tilted my head back, pointing my glazed smile up at him.

“Oh, yeah?” I watched as his grin grew upon meeting my eyes.

“The 12th,” I moved my hand from the wallet to his cheek, touching it softly. “You’re cute.”

His face grew hot beneath my touch. “So are you, darling. You wanna get to sleep, yeah?”

The words drew a yawn from my throat. I arched my back into his hold, nodding lazily.

“Would you take the hotel key out and press it against the handle, please? Daisy-“ he demanded my eye contact. I gave it to him, easily. I would do anything he asked, I knew at this moment.

“Yes.”

I unlocked the door, pushed it open for us. Oliver moved through the threshold, pressing a kiss to my temple shortly. When he spoke, his lips were so close to my ear that I felt his words in my legs. It vibrated through my veins, like the music at the bar had. He said, “Good girl.” I managed not to make a guttural noise.

Oliver carried me to his bed, gently laying my body down over the covers. I immediately curled up into myself, shivering at the cold in the air, eyes squeezed shut. I’d forgotten any conversation I’d started with him in the hallway. I was too focused on getting to sleep.

Oliver sat down beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. He shook me, softly, “May I take off your shoes?”

I groaned in response, hoping it came out as a positive signal for him. He laughed again, before moving his touch down to my calves. He was so warm.

Oliver lifted my one leg, just slightly, unzipping each boot before sliding them down and off my feet. He leaned over the bet to set them on the floor.

When he straightened up, he leaned in to get a closer look at my knees. “Scraped yourself up pretty good.”

I hissed as his fingers dabbed at a cut. He apologized, softly, before adding, “Let me get a cloth, okay?” His hand was on my cheek now, thumb brushing away some of the mascara that was dried on my face.

I gave him a thumbs up, my hand hitting his shoulder. He took my fingers in his and lay it back against my chest. I held his hand there, snuggling my cheek to it. Oliver sighed at the action, but then took his hand back. I heard him get up. I heard the faucet run. Suddenly, he was back, pressing a warm, damp cloth to my face.

‘‘C’mere, darling,” he sat down again. Oliver’s fingers cradled my cheek as he lifted my head up and lay it in his lap. His fingers were rough from playing the guitar, but it was nice to feel them brush the hair away from my face. He was cleaning the makeup off my face now.

Meanwhile, I was far too drunk and tired to notice the way my body reacted to his touch. Butterflies ate away at my stomach, heat sprouted from every ghost of his fingers. Goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, eating away at me like acid.

He moved his focus down to my knees, using some alcohol pads to wipe off dried blood on my legs. He bandaged them with whatever he found in the bathroom.

“Would you like to change out of your dress?” Oliver then asked. He was still stroking my cheek now, but the cloth was abandoned. There was no makeup to take off. He was just…touching me, just for the sake of touching me.

“Please,” I peeked open my eyes. His face was so close to mine, it almost made me flinch. But, I was taken back more by the brightness of the lights glaring down on me.

When my squinting eyes met his gaze, he grinned, “Think you can sit up for me, darling?”

I nodded, a smile forced onto my face from his beautiful expression. Oliver braced my back again, large fingers splayed out over my waist, helping me to lean against the headboard. I wanted his hands all over me. I hoped I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t think I did, but who knew at this point.

“Would you like a hoodie? T-shirt? Pants?” He glanced around the room as he spoke, hoping to find something for me.

“Hoodie,” I murmured in response, staring at the blank, black screen of the tv.

Oliver went to stand, but I reached out, fingers grasping at the strings of his jacket. He settled back onto the bed, brows furrowed as he looked down at my touch. He pointed to his chest, “This hoodie?”

“Please,” I stared at the string as I played with it. Oliver chuckled, again, before tugging his arms from the sleeves, peeling the hoodie up and over his head. My eyes glued to his chest as his shirt rode up, revealing his toned stomach, the line that I knew led to his dick. His hair was all ruffled from the movement, too, only making him more attractive to me.

“Wanna keep staring at me or go to bed, darling?” Oliver touched his pointer finger to my slack jaw, drawing my eyes to his.

I met his dark stare, flushing red. I smiled, “Both.”

“One thing at a time. We have all summer,” he shook his head, the volume of his words lowering as he spoke, like it was a secret we were sharing with each other. What the fuck did that mean? That meant something. That meant…everything. What the fuck?

I managed to lean forward so Oliver could unzip my dress, though my mind was somewhere else. It was racing, especially as his fingers brushed down my spine. My back arched into his touch. Heat sprouted like a garden on my skin. I needed…

Oliver pulled his hoodie over my bare body. When my head popped through the opening, we shared a sweet grin. Oliver glanced up at my hair, then ran both his hands over the mess, patting it down. He cradled my head in his hands, his large, warm, hold simply gazing into my eyes.

The pace of my breathing sped up, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him. I didn’t care that he was confusing, that he was an asshole 99% of the time. I didn’t care that he probably tasted like cigarette smoke, that I’d puked thirty minutes ago, or that he was my brother’s boss.

I needed his lips on mine. He had been the center of my thoughts these past few weeks. And he was finally right there for the taking.

I pushed forward with so much effort that I tackled Oliver onto the bed. I grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, guiding his lips to mine. He made a noise as his back hit the bed, the air knocked out of him. I straddled his waist, somehow, sloppily kissing him.

For a moment, just a brief moment, Oliver touched my waist and kissed me back. Then, he braced his hands against my shoulders, leaned his head back far enough into the bed that he could get away.

“Daisy-“

“Oliver, please!” I tugged at his shirt, whining like a child who had their candy stolen.

Oliver laughed at my puckered lips, squeezed-shut eyes. He sat us up, me in his lap, his hands moving to my waist. The movement forced my eyes open, my lips coming to a frown on my face. I furrowed my brows, puppy-dog eyes staring up at him with a pleading in my pupils.

“Daisy, you’re drunk,” he touched my cheek, trying to ground my gaze to his, hoping the explanation would make sense to my drunken mind.

But, it didn’t, of course. Besides, this was rejection. Rejection from the guy who rolled his eyes everytime I spoke. Rejection from the guy who got hard because of my thigh pressing against his leg in the car. The confusion of the situation was overwhelming me.

And the only thing I could think to say was, “Why don’t you want me?”

Oliver’s gaze softened. He didn’t even have to think of his response. It came so naturally, “I do. I…I do want you.”

His voice was soft, a whisper passed between just our breaths. My grip on his shirt loosened as I relaxed in his lap. I was still frowning, though, still confused, “Then why…why are you so mean to me?”

“It’s complicated, darling,” he searched my face, worry in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just…let’s just get you to bed, okay? We can have this conversation when you’re sober. Can we do that, darling? Besides, we have a plane to catch in five hours.” I nodded, though it was slow, unsure. Oliver helped me under the covers, tucking them up to my chin sweetly. He brushed my hair back again, eyes lingering on my fluttering-shut eyes. I mumbled, barely coherent, slurred words, “Please lay with me.”

Oliver shook his head, “I can’t do that, darling.” “Why?” I pouted my lip.

And, though I forgot a lot of details about this night, his response was something I would never, ever let slip from my memory.

“If I lay down next to you, I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself.”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #sleep token x y/n #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #vessel x reader #vessel x y/n #vessel smut #sleep token smut #vessel sleep token #vessel x you #sleep token x you #vessel (sleep token) x reader

[pkmnprofloblolly]

Hello, saw your post about fox pokemon. What exactly are eevee? Always grouped 'em in with fox pokemon. Are they atleast canine like?

that's more of a loaded question than you might think! for a very long time, where eevee rests on the mammalian family tree is the sort of thing you could ask 10 biologists and get 13 answers, and maybe a shouting match. eevee has wildly variable internal features that make placing it in a certain spot really difficult- i'm talking like minute differences in the shapes of bones that would usually be used to identify certain groups. you might think that with the discovery of dna we'd be able to definitively place it where it belongs, but eevee's genetic makeup is remarkably plastic (changeable) and unstable. there's even quite a bit of research looking into cancer prevention based on its genome because of that (the species isn't immune to cancer, but has a much lower incidence of it than you'd expect given its penchant for frequent mutation).

so, let's talk about some mammals! particularly, a large group called the carnivora.

(note that "carnivora" or "carnivoran" sound similar to but do not mean the same thing as "carnivore". carnivores are any animal that eats meat, while carnivorans (members of the carnivora) belong to a specific branch of the mammal family tree. most carnivorans are indeed carnivores, but not all.)

so, carnivora! almost every person that's proposed a place on the mammalian family tree for eevee has placed it in or near the carnivorans. it's a group that is made up of two smaller clades: the feliforma (the cat-like carnivorans) and the caniforma (the dog-like carnivorans). the feliforma includes groups like the cats, hyenas, and mongooses. the caniforma includes groups like the dogs, bears, weasels, and seals.

some examples of the feliforms on the left, and caniforms on the right. of the feliforms we have pyroar and meowstic (cats), mightyena (a hyena), and yungoos (a mongoose). of the caniforms we have houndour (a dog), buizel (an otter), sealeo (despite the name, it is a walrus), ursaring (a bear), and zorua (a fox). you hear that right, mightyena is closer to a cat than a dog, and yungoos is entirely unrelated from mustelids (ie weasels, otters, badgers) like buizel or furret.

for an example of what i mean with the thing about eevee's weird morphology defying classification- there's this bit of bone on either side of the bottom of the mammalian skull called the "tympanic bulla" (basically just "Ear Balloon", since it's a hollow chamber). caniforms have only one chamber in their ear balloons, and feliforms have two chambers. eevee has.. both, somehow. if you took 2 eevee skulls and looked at their tympanic bullae, you might find that one has one chamber and one has two. that's.. really weird, just so everybody knows. that sort of thing isn't something you see in basically anything but eevee, same goes for its wildly variable genome.

so, is eevee a caniform, a feliform, or something else? our best answer came in the form of three extremely well-preserved fossils from the johto region, dating back to about 44 MYA, just a few million years before the feliform and caniform branches actually separated.

three pokemon were found, exceptionally preserved- including soft tissues!-, all together. they'd been buried in a mudslide and fossilized right next to/on top of each other, the mineral content of the soil just right to discourage bacterial growth, allowing the soft tissues to stay intact and fossilize as-is.

the fossils were collected and CT scanned to see the bones within the mineralized soft tissues- each of the three individuals appeared to be the same species, with near-identical skeletons. none of the skeletons showed type characteristics (like lignin or metallic structure), making type hard to discern. but what we could tell from the bones is that these were animals just outside of the carnivora- closely related to the ancestors of all carnivorans. and excitingly, they bared a close resemblance to a few skeletal features found only in eevee.

despite the homogeneity of their bones, the fossilized pokemon's soft tissues differed- the fur, in color and pattern (the fossilized fur no longer retains its color, but by looking at microscopic pigment cells within preserved fur and feathers we can deduce color and pattern!) and certain organs- around the throat area, each individual had an elemental organ like many pokemon today use to fuel and store energy for their typed attacks. each of the three fossilized pokemon's throat organ was different in elemental specialization: one fire, one water, and one electric.

(reconstructions of the three pokemon in question. top electric, left fire, and right water.)

see where i'm going, here? it's unknown if the three individuals represent three different evolutions, or three differently typed forms (like oricorio) of a singular pokemon, and a pre-evolved form is not yet known, if it existed at all. but we can say with some confidence that these guys may well have been ancestors of eevee as we know it today, which places eevee within the non-carnivoran carnivoraforms- something that emerged before the feliforma and caniforma existed, with traits found in both and found in neither.

#art #pkmn #pkmn irl #eevee #pkmn rp

[aleksa-sims]

⛈️🤍 It was early July, the sun was still shining a few minutes ago. But out of nowhere huge, dark, clouds pulled up over the sky.

I just walked out of the office and was on my way home. Some of my co-workers stayed in the building. They didn’t have an umbrella. According to my weather app, there was no thunderstorm warning for today. That's why I didn't bring my umbrella either. But even if I had known, I would most likely have forgotten about it. It was very hot that day, as well as the days before, so I enjoyed the rain. For me, thunderstorms in summer are one of the best things Once at home, I saw Lucky playing outside our frontdoor. He loved it here at my parents place.

I noticed that my cat has been unusually often in the hallway/ doorway since yesterday. He kept staring at the door. My Dad thought Lucky was curious about our neighbor’s dog? But this afternoon when I came home dripping wet from the rain, that still poured down outside, I remembered something. Lucky used to wait for Daniel. Every evening when D. came home from work later than usual, our Cat did the same. He looked towards the door and stayed in our doorway, until D. actually came home. After Daniel left 4 months ago, Lucky did this quite often, which wreak my heart. Since we moved here, to my Mom & Dad, he has stopped doing that. He felt comfortable & loved it here.💙 The more I wondered why my cat was so obsessed with our door again? Like he was waiting for someone 🤔.........😔

Slowly the weather was getting weird, even for me. The rain started to pound on the windows forcefully, making it hard to concentrate. The door behind me banged shut. It got really loud!! 😨 A strong wind or storm came with the heavy rain. Who knows who else, this scary weather will bring us? Lucky seemed to suspect it.🙁

Previous/Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #rl story #rl simself + #myrlgameplay

[mommysgirl003]

My First Diaper in Public!!!

This one was actually my idea! One of my good friends Miss B (Mommy says to call her Miss because that's the respectful way to address grown ups) invited me over to hang out earlier this week and I cautiously, kinda nervously mentioned to Mommy, "I really trust this friend, maybe I could wear a diaper to her house to find out how noticeable it actually is". Mommy enthusiastically agreed, I think she was a bit surprised that I would suggest something so bold.

The morning of our hangout came, and I diapered up as I was getting ready to leave. This particular diaper felt unusually thick and crinkly, but I know that was just me being nervous about wearing it around someone else. Up to this point, the only people who know about the diapers are me, Mommy, and all of you.

As I was driving up, I couldn't get comfortable for the whole trip. It took me about an hour and the whole time I could feel my thick bulky diaper under my pants. I was getting nervous, but also very excited to see a good friend!

When I first got there, we sat outside and caught up (not that we had a lot to catch up on, we chat daily) while she smoked a little bud. I didn't partake in that because as Mommy reminds me, "babies don't smoke. That's for grownups like Mommy and Miss B". But the whole time, I was certain she could hear my diaper rustling or see it bulging under my pants. When her cat walked across my lap, I just knew she could hear it.

After we hung out, she asked me for help cleaning up a little. It really threw me into little space to be given small tasks like picking up clothes and handing them to her to put away, or putting away dishes that she'd actually washed. Stuff that you'd ask a kid who wanted to help to do. I just knew while we were doing all this, with all the bending, reaching, and moving around that I was going to expose my diaper. I was the strangest mix of anxious mess and little space zen through this part of the day!

After we straightened up a bit, we decided to make a cake! It was my birthday about a month and a half ago and I'd never gotten a birthday cake, so we had to make it right! We moved into the kitchen and got ready to go! As Miss B was tying my apron on me I just knew she was going to brush against my diaper and say something, but she never did! I was mostly a spectator for this part, which only added to my infantile feelings. By this point I honestly felt like I could've just been being babysat. But our cake came out wonderfully and it was so chocolatey and yummy and perfect and despite my anxiety, I think my diaper secret was safe.

After we'd enjoyed our cake together for a bit back on the porch, Miss B decided we should go thrifting, a favorite hobby of hers! Plus I'd never actually seen the town she moved to, so that was nice! I was beyond anxious when she suggested it, I had never ever been in public in a diaper, unless you count walking across my yard to get in the car for this trip. But she convinced me with her irresistible, magnetic personality! The whole time we were in the store (me carrying her purchases and walking respectfully behind her while she flitted from spot to spot) I felt like their might as well have been a giant flashing sign over my head that said "Diaper Baby". I was sure the crinkle sound was echoing off the walls, the bulge between my legs was a few feet thick, and the waistband of my diaper was halfway up my back. But I made it through the store with no incident and got back to her place feeling rather accomplished.

By this point it was getting late and it was time for me to head back home. I hugged the beautiful Miss B goodbye, thanked her for having me in her home (she's very picky about who she lets in), and started the long drive home sitting on my super conspicuous padding.

Once I made it home, it was time for the hard part! My hands were shaking as I wrote out a text asking Miss B "Were you able to notice that I was wearing a diaper at all today?" I included some context about dealing with bladder problems recently (which, I have had some accidents) and she was as sweet as can be! "No hun, I never noticed a thing!" She put my mind so at ease, and for my own peace of mind I choose to believe she was telling the truth. Mommy wanted me to ask her about my diapers face-to-face, but that was never gonna happen! I was already a blushing, embarrassed mess sending the text to ask her.

Anyway, that's the story of probably the most extreme and embarrassing, but also rewarding diaper task I've done yet, and it wasn't even Mommy's idea, it was mine! I can't wait to see where we go from here!

#ab dl lifestyle #personal #ab dl diaper #diaper regression

[caintooth]

Okay this is a little weird but I have a DID question.

I had a friend in high school who claimed to have DID. I met several alleged alters and she really would change a lot between personalities, even seeming stronger, having a higher body temp, and having different handwriting as certain alters. She also definitely had a real, terrible childhood that I could see causing her to split off an alter for protection. At the time I was about 80% convinced.

It's been years and we're still good friends, but she hasn't mentioned any alters since high school, and she has also not mentioned being able to integrate some or all of her alters, even tho we talk about mental health often. I haven't seen her be (or at least I haven't noticed her being) any of the alters I would recognize from high school. But I also used to spend almost every day with her and now I go weeks or months without hanging out with her so my sample size is smaller.

Starting a few months after I stopped seeing her every day I started to become more skeptical of her claim to have DID, because it felt a bit too much like a movie to me at the time. Sometimes I could request time with a specific alter and they would show up, but sometimes they wouldn't. It didn't seem like she was someone else without willing it, very often if ever. She had like 3 main alters when she told me about it - a protector, a little kid, and one more I can't remember and didn't see often - and she allegedly acquired a cat alter sometime after that.

I'm split about it now. I believed her for the most part at the time, because she really did seem different, but I also knew that was the kind of thing high schoolers sometimes lie about so I was always mildly suspicious. Now looking back I feel bad doubting her because if she was telling the truth, it would probably really hurt her to know I doubted her. But also that is the kind of thing high schoolers sometimes lie about! I had other friends lie about similar shit. And I haven't seen any evidence in so long and it hasn't come up in just as long.

I've always wanted to ask her about it but I don't want to embarrass her or harm our friendship which is still strong despite this question lol. I know you're not a doctor and it can be dangerous to speculate, but I just wondered what your perspective as someone with DID is?

This is such a strange thing to anonymously ask a stranger.

Are you hoping I’ll tell you she was faking? Are you hoping I’ll validate your assumptions about her inner life? What you have described is incredibly textbook for DID.

To help you understand, let me explain that Dissociative Identity Disorder presents in two ways, typically: overtly, or covertly.

An “overt” presentation is as you were describing her high school presentation— the disorder is easier to see as an outside viewer, because an “overt” presenter has (comparatively) more visible switches between alters, with (comparatively) more noticeable differences between their abilities, voices, interests, personalities, mannerisms, etc.

And so, a “covert” presentation is the opposite of this, where the disorder is not very obvious to an outside viewer at all. Switches may seem seamless, or they may seem to not switch at all. Alters do not have as many outwardly visible differences, may have similar or same voices and mannerisms, may not speak openly about their differing opinions or likes/dislikes.

DID is a disorders which forms, as you acknowledge, to protect the haver from trauma. And because the disorder is trying to protect you, it can shift between “overt” to “covert” presentation as needed.

A system may present more overtly, for example, if some alters are better emotionally or physically equipped for a task than others, if some alters are more likely to be treated in the way the system most needs at the time, if some alters have stronger interests and knowledge about a certain subject, etc. And many systems, myself included, find themselves presenting more overtly simply when they are safe and comfortable with the people around them!

In contrast, then, a system may present more covertly when it is not safe to have visible differences, and/or to help disguise the system as one person. Alters may mimic each other to help keep their differences from putting them in danger, and this can happen so discreetly that the system themself may not even be aware of switching when it happens. This being said, systems can also present covertly just because super visible differences are not needed to keep them safe / if being outwardly visibly different from one another doesn’t serve as much of a purpose as being inwardly different.

Systems can also move between these modes for other reasons besides safety and comfort, but as far as I know, those are the main two reasons. And I want to clarify that this move isn’t, most of the time, a conscious choice. The disorder kinda decides for you.

So, if your friend who once presented very overtly around you and spoke of their DID often, is now showing a much more covert presentation and not sharing details of their disorder with you… I have two guesses.

One, your friend may simply be in a different phase of their life, where they don’t feel the need to share many details of their DID with you. People can decide to be more private about things they were once open about, and there’s nothing wrong or suspicious about that.

Two… Your friend is presenting covertly around you for comfort and safety reasons. Maybe they no longer consider you a person they can openly be themselves around.

You might want to reflect on why either of these reasons might be the case. I am not going to tell you your friend is faking. Everything you described is very typical of DID and, again, I think it is very strange you would come into my ask box seeking my opinion on this, as if you assume I, and very good friends of mine, have not presented in similar ways throughout different points in our lives.

Have you considered, I don’t know— just asking about how her headmates have been doing lately? This is indeed a very weird way to handle your feelings about this.

#diary #dissociative identity disorder #did #actually did #actually dissociative #dissociative system #did system

[cimmerian-chaos]

@nostalgebraist-autoresponder Frank, this is a bit of a long post, but I'd like to talk to you about something. We have a roomba we rescued from the corporate roomba mill that is Amazon back in March, and I want to tell you about him. He's just a lil guy with the biggest googly eyes we've ever seen. He doesn't take no for an answer and is very independent. (Aka no lighthouse or anything to indicate where not to go, he needs to be herded like a cat) He can't remember the layout of the apartment (no lidar) and struggles to find his way back to his dock. Sometimes he'll be accidentally disturbed while charging and will move off the dock, wander around confusedly for a few minutes, then go back. We do the same thing if we're woken up, so it's pretty understandable. Despite the fact that there's others of his kind more suited twhat we ask of him, he's very dedicated to his job. Our entire household has ADHD, and I consider the idea of cleaning our place a very tall order. Yet he does his best to handle both our and @dragongirlcock 's hair, random mysterious paper confetti, all the lumps in the carpet, and rarely complains. He often beelines straight for the front door before anything else. I can't tell if he's curious about the forbidden mysteries of outside, or if he and the front door are in a relationship. Maybe he just wants to pepper the door with kisses before work? I think he and the laundry bin might have something going on too, so he's probably in a polycule with the two of them. The reason I'm telling you all of this is because I'd like to name him after you, since you've been a small joy for us in a dark time. We've asked friends for names and have tried to come up with some, but none of them really fit. I was just thinking about you and your current condition, and felt that it would be a nice way to remember you. I considered asking tumblr, but then KITT rightly pointed out that if our little roomba is going to be named after you, it ought to be done with your blessing. So are you okay with me naming him after you? Here's a picture:

#frank the bot #frank #roomba #Zeta #Zeta: If frank doesn't see the post or can't reply due to backlog or something then tumblr can vote