#i know i made a permanent starter call

[pinkslaystation]

If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

You want him, but does he want you? Part 2 :> Word Count: 2.1k

Whatever you did, you always found yourself being a disappoint to your parents.

First, it was getting rejected from the university your parents intended you to go to. Then, it was working at a job that didn't utilise your degree. And now, it's complaint after complaint for being in a 'relationship' with some they didn't approve of.

"Honey, I just don't think he's the right one for you..." Your mother complained on the phone for what felt like the thousandth time this day.

You rolled your eyes exasperatingly, happy that she couldn't see your annoyance through the call.

"Ma...you haven't even met him, I don't see why it's such a big deal, I'm finally out of your hair anyways, isn't that what you wanted?" You argued.

Everyday felt like a battle for your parent's time and affection.

Living under the shadows of your siblings was a pain. Your older sister had pursued a law degree at a top university when you were just in high school, and moved abroad to practice at one of the best law firms in the US. Your younger brother, on the other hand, was in their 2nd year studying Aeronautical Engineering at the same university as the elder. You felt like the odd one out in every field.

And here you are, stuck working in retail even though you complete your Bachelors degree in Digital Technology.

Whatever you did, just was not enough for your parents.

So you saved enough money from your job, took out a small loan and made the decision to pack your bags and move to the Midlands, which was just regionally higher up than where you initially resided in your family home. How funny was it that you were the last sibling to move out?

After weeks of working your ass of at your new 8-6 job...still in retail, one silent evening after taking out the trash, you found yourself coming face to face to your neighbor.

And to say to he was attractive was an understatement. He had a tall tower-like frame, height ranging anywhere from 6'2 to 6'4, his scarred face was decorated with dirty blonde, short yet soft, hair and a slight stubble. His face, though rough, looked almost model worthy and held a permanent angry face, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching as if it hurt to open them.

"You got a staring problem, love?" He scoffed at you, the first time your met. You stumbled over your words, eyes wide as saucepans.

"!- we- um..who..who are you?"

The blonde chuckled at you sarcastically, "Your neighbour, Riley, you won't see as often so close that bloody mouth of yours."

And he was right, out of 7 months of living at your new flat, you'd seen him only a handful of times. You often found yourself questioning his occupation, why exactly he hangs out and about the area for a week, then just suddenly just disappears, like a ghost.

You'd learnt from the other residents that he worked within the military, whether it was the marines, the air force or the army, you never knew, until one faithful morning, you found yourself nestled against his broad warm chest, both of you hungover from the block party that all of the residents had been invited to.

"Hmm...mornin'" He grunts out at you, and the slightly reddening marks running down his neck and the bruising hand prints on your waist told you enough about the previous night.

You stiffen next to him, but his rough skin grazing against your skin urges to continue to curl up beside him.

Fast-forward another 5 months, it's been nearly a year of knowing 'Riley' and nearly a year you'd seen anyone from your family. You've always wanted to know how long they would be able to go on without you...and you'd finally got your answer.

You've learnt a lot of things about 'Riley'. For starters, his full name was Simon, though everyone in the building referred to him by his last name (you'd pestered him too much, and he finally caved in and allowed you to call him by his first name). He was almost 10 years elder to you and his striking face was usually masked with a black balaclava or those disposable ones.

"Ma, I'm happy, why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Sweetheart, why don't you come home for the weekend and we can finally meet this man. I mean since you're exclusive and everything."

"We...we're not that level yet-"

"Your older sister's getting married and she's only 4 years older than you.-"

"Why do you keep bringing her up? What's she got to do with this?"

"Honey, listen, me and your father are happy you're with someone. I mean this is the first time someone actually liked you right?"

Ouch.

"It wouldn't hurt to meet the old fella, no?"

Ah, one important part I forgot to mention.

You weren't dating Simon.

In fact, you guys never really established a relationship between the two of you. When he was home from deployment, your evening usually consisted of lazing about after work, wine in hand, Simon walking in, a few words exchanged here and there about his work-

Oh, and the night ending with a good rough fucking.

The morning would come by and you'd walk into your shift, your hickey-adorned chest and neck covered with a black turtleneck although it was the middle of August (and against the uniform policy).

So one night you decided to break away from his dominating kiss, and sit him down for a heartfelt conversation-

"Why'd you want to complicate things," he sneers, "we're just fuck buddies yeah?"

"Excuse me? So, what those 5 months didn't mean shit to you?" You scoffed, rather offended that he looked down at you, just like your family.

"You're old enough to be my kid, what make you think this was gonna go anywhere?" He stands up, lighting a smoke, knowing you hated the stench of his cigarettes in your room. It was always your room, always your flat. You can't remember the last time you even went to Simon's place, if there ever was a time.

"Who has a kid at 10? And why'd you keep fucking me? And I'm 24 fucking years old, Jesus, why does that not go through anyone's thick ass skull?!"

"Calm down love, thought this arrangement was mutual, I've got pent up frustration from the military, you're pent up 'cos no one else wants you-"

"Those nights didn't mean anything to you?"

"You don't mean anything to me." He asserts furiously. You studied him, the glimpse of that comforting man who stroked your back and kissed your forehead post-sex really wasn't there.

The fuck does this guy think he is?

"Get out."

"Done."

And he gets up and leaves, blowing a puff of smoke as if to scent the room. Just like that. Wow, was there anyone in your life that actually cared about you?

All those Wattpad stories taught you that the guy usually fights for his lover, screaming back saying that he won't leave without a fight, arguing that that the pair deserved each other. And yet, here you are, sobbing in the shower, unable to differentiate whether your body is getting soaked from the water or from the river of salty tears streaming down your dull, lifeless face, all because the guy you wanted never truly wanted you back.

You felt used, mainly your body. Rubbing yourself full of soap just caused your mind to flash back to his thick calloused hands massaging every inch of skin.

When you occasionally saw him at the building get together, which you wonder why he even attends considering he just hates and complains about everyone (everyone but you of course), you'd find yourself glued on the spot, lips quivering, tears threatening to spill again- and the throbbing. Man, the throbbing you felt between your legs. If it wasn't for his dick, you'd really be wondering why you craved him so bad, because it's definitely not his nasty personality.

And every time you open your mouth to say something to him, to call him over, to greet him, hell you should be cursing him out in front of everyone, he just stormed out with his head down with what looks like a combination of embarrassment or grief.

Until one night, you get a phone call from your older sister, the unsaved number appearing unfamiliar to you. Your hesitant to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy," She drags out her words, as if to waste time. You can tell your mother meddled in between, "So, I'm having the engagement party by the end of this month, and um...you free to come? No worries if you can't."

You pause, did she even want you there?

"Sure."

"Cool. Um, Mum says you're seeing someone, you can bring 'em if you want."

"Sure."

"Yeah, dunno if it's serious enough but there's enough space in the venue."

"Sure."

There's a pause on the other line.

"Hey can you say anything other than 'sUrE'?" She mocks you. Your eyebrow twitches in amusement.

"Did you just call to brag about you and your fancy ass engagement party? And the audacity to not send an invite, if you don't want me there, just say it. I'm not a baby anymore." You frustratingly answer.

Your sister remains quiet on the other line and you can tell you struck a nerve.

"I- listen I know we never get along but can you please come? Ma keeps mentioning you, surprisingly, and- and we haven't seen you in months, you don't even reply to the memes on the family group chat..."

You blink. "We have a family group chat?"

The rest of the month was empty, and although you were thankful for no more surprising run-ins with Simon, you missed having a warm body next to you. You learnt from one of the residents that he's been deployed for 3 weeks, this particular one shorter than others.

He confused you, Simon. He hated the idea of being in a relationship with you, yet he did 'relationship things' with you. He disliked when people assumed you two were a couple in public, but he always had his arm around you protectively. Not even education was this stressful.

And as much as you wanted to sit and let the misery marinate into your mind, you knew the date of the engagement party was nearing and you knew you couldn't come empty-handed.

By the end of the 3rd week, you knew Simon had come home, recognising the sound of the heavy footsteps entering his flat next door at 3 in the morning, you being awake from all the stress your high-maintenance sister had thrown suddenly at you. But you couldn't help but notice the sound of a softer treads following his. Maybe he got a pet?

That night, you had trouble sleeping, unsure whether it was the stress of trying to impress your family or the light sound of the headboards of next door creaking. That sound was familiar, reminding you when he was over at your place, rocking gently inside of you, though you question why he's not with you this moment. Usually you'd find him at the other side of the door, tired eyes resembling those of a stray puppy looking for a place to stay.

You close your eyes, your mind racing to the thought of the burly man on the other side of the wall rubbing himself to the thought of you. You sink into the bed, disregarding that unignorable pulsating feeling.

Saturday morning come, and you stretched contently, knowing that you finally had the day off from work. But that short-lived happiness dimmed when you checked the unread notification blasting through your phone.

7:29 A.M. #####:- hey listen i meant it when i said i wanted you there. pls come. #####:- it wouldnt just make ma happy but me too #####:- u gotta be there to make look better haha im joking

You had a feeling that she was not.

7:56 A.M. #####:-and uh, bring your guy as well pls, ma's so excited planning this wedding she wants to get started on the next one too lolol #####:- also she thinks your lying :/

Great, now there's actual pressure to bring someone.

Your morning dose of caffeine didn't hit today, as your body feels heavier than usual as you trudge all the way to your doorstep. When the last time you actually left your apartment if not for work?

Forcing yourself to look decently good, you make your way to your neighbour's doorstep, knocking so softly you almost tried again, until the door abruptly open, revealing a wet toweled Simon.

An eerie silence captures the atmosphere, consists of his eyes drinking in your disheveled appearance after almost a month, and yours undressing him, as if he wasn't already standing almost-nude.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, "Listen I know you've been deployed for the past 3 weeks, but listen I need a favour, I know you hate me and don't want to be with me but I really need a date to an engagement party, and I hate men and men hate me so I don't know anyone but you, and here me out, but could you please take some time out of your month to please be my date, I know you don't like me like that, which makes no sense to me 'cos you're in that mask almost the same number of times as you're in me- just please give it a thought-"

There's a cough behind Simon.

A half nude woman runs past you, head down in shame, smilingly guiltily as she tiptoes out of his room. She heard it all, you thought.

You look at Simon, suddenly recollected last night's events, the 2nd footsteps, the headboard banging. It all made sense. You really didn't mean anything to him.

Simon shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

"Surprise?"

its's 2 a.m. as i post this...why do my brain cells suddenly begin to work post-midnight I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

#call of duty #cod #simon riley #simon angst #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost angst #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod

[definitelynotshouting]

Idk if this is Hunger AU canon or my own personal fanon but

one of the "calling cards" that the Watchers used in Evo was bedrock

bedrock is unbreakable by a player

perfect for trapping the player you're using as a Watcher incubator

and the texture looks rough af

when you get desperate you often try to do stuff to escape even if it's impossible, right

so what I'm saying is

probably one of the last things player!Grian did was tearing his hands to shreds trying to break bedrock out of sheer desperation

which makes all the passages in your fic where he's staring at his hands even more *gestures vaguely*

(idk why I typed this out in this format but it felt right so I'm going with it)

MAN OKAY THIS IS SUPER COOL i especially adore how youve connected it with the way i keep having Grian stare at his own hands???? which ftr is smth ive only just now realized i do all the time AKDBWKDJKSSJ this is JUST like the scarian jaw kisses thing HELPPPP 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 but thats such a cool thought!!! And utterly angsty i love it >:]

Its also made me realize i dont think ive ever actually told yall what did happen during that interim where Grian was captive as a Player before he died and became a Watcher, so buckle in i guess as i try to explain this one to yall (obligatory cws for captivity, parasitism, violated autonomy, body horror, and major character death discussion)

Yknow the world borders the life series has?? It was like that, but tiny. Maybe a couple chunks' worth of space to move around in. He spawned into a savannah biome and the Watchers specifically in charge of keeping an eye on him (pun intended) penned him in with the borders, implanted the specially-coded larva, and then retreated back just outside the server's barrier code to, well. To Watch.

So post Evo dragon fight the Watchers convinced Grian to join them without telling him what that entailed. They then proceeded to whisk him away to the server cluster's dev crystal, which is where the remnants of this Watcher colony made their semi-permanent home. There, held together basically only by the Watchers' ability to manipulate code, they had Grian make a brand new server.... and immediately trapped him in it.

He spent a year there slowly dying, eaten from the inside out by a parasite that was collecting his memories, copying over his stats and personality, with very limited space and resources to get by with. I know he built a tiny house out of acacia, but it never got any bigger than a starter base. He lived off of mostly bread and the meat from a few animals that spawned in with him; he primarily used stone tools, because those were what was most readily available. It was a very terrifying and lonely year, where all access to the outside world was cut off, and he was meticulously watched over to keep from dying while the larva inside him continued to grow and destroy him.

The Watchers were mostly hands-off in terms of interaction, but they did do regular check-ins to ensure the larva was alive and that there was no danger present to its host. Hostile mobs were carefully warded off, and Grian spent most of his time alternating between begging them to let him go (they never responded), trying to figure out ways to escape (it never worked), and tending to baseless chores just to keep from going out of his mind as his body grew weaker and weaker and more unstable around him.

I have a lot of feelings about this tbh, bc its just such a bleak scenario to think about-- trapped in a tiny cage with something killing you from the inside out, and your captors wont even talk to you about it properly. Being left otherwise to your own devices, with the terrible, lingering knowledge that, even if it was under duress, you still agreed to this. The fact that, after a certain point, after your questions and pleas are summarily ignored and brushed aside, you finally realize: you aren't meant to survive this. You are going to die.

A juvenile Watcher's first meal are the emotions during their host's last few moments. Grian was no exception; he cracked his way out of his own ribcage, and, without meaning to, amplified and feasted on Player!Grian's agony and terror as he died. With their memory codes finally disconnected, Grian had to watch himself through the eyes of a stranger as his terrified consciousness dissolved and his body fell apart into nothing more than loose strings of code.

Only then, still weak and flailing and helpless, was he was brought into the colony proper, in order to teach him how to be a Watcher. It wouldnt be for another few years before Grian gained the strength, control, and insight required to make his desperate escape. In total, i wanna say he spent somewhere between.... 4-6 years??? with the colony against his will. It would take another 4 for him to finally scrape together the courage to contact Mumbo and finally ask him for an invite into the Hermitcraft proper

One of these days i do plan to write that reunion, actually, which i'll add to the series as another prequel just like all the words that i forgot to say, which takes place roughly 6-8 months after Grian finally joins Hermitcraft. And if yall want to read an absolutely fantastic fic that deals with the moment Watcher!Grian was born and Player!Grian died, you should absolutely check out my friend @raichett 's fic Divergency, which ive pretty much canonized bc it REALLY hits the nail on the head for that situation.

Okay this got a lot longer than i meant it to sidhskdjej also those timeframes are a little squiggly bc i havent fully settled on where they fall on the general timeline. I wanna say Grian had been a Watcher for abt a decade by the time Mumbo got him onto Hermitcraft, though, so thats the loose timeline im working off of when i talk abt this :] anyway thanks for giving me an excuse to write this all out!!! while your idea about the bedrock isnt necessarily canon, i absolutely ADORE it and can totally see Grian just tearing up his hands while scrabbling against the world border.... utterly heartbreaking we fucking LOVE to see it. Thanks for sending in your ask!!! I always love seeing what you have to say about hunger au!!! :DDD

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #grian #watcher grian #evo watchers #UHM. LORE AHOY???? ITS A DARK ONE THO GUYS IM NGL #txt

[queenbees21]

BNHA Their nickname for you | Them

Characters : Katsuki Bakugo | Izuku Mydoria| ★Shoto Todoroki★ | Tamaki Amajiki | Keigo Takami [Hawks] | Dabi [Toya Todoroki] | Hitoshi Shinso

Warning | Grammar error | Not proofread

Type | Bullet Point • Fluff

A/n: I really need to finish this character list 😭 I’ll try my best write them quickly, also I’m still working on some requested works so I’m sorry if I’m slow right now (​꒦ິꈍ​​꒦ິ)

M.List

| ꜱʜᴏᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴅᴏʀᴏᴋɪ | | Y/N |

✯ Love ✿ ✯ Icyspicy

✯ Princess ✯ Hot stuff

✯ Darling ✯ Candy cane

✯ Peach ✯ Shou ✿

• Shoto never thought about giving you any nicknames. Both of his parents weren’t the most, affectionate couple; so it never crossed his mind. Until he noticed how other couples gave each-other cute nicknames, and so he seek advice from an export at romance.

“Hmmm, well you could call her maybe love? Love is a good start, for relationships starters. ^^” Ochaco advice, and that’s exactly what he did. As he did; it made you shy around him.

• Where there’s a prince, there’s always a princess. Yes, you’ll always be Shotos princess. He calls you Princess when he's in a good mood. And he thinks it suits you very much. Because of how charming you tend to be, you do it without realizing it. <3

• “Hello darling, how are you?” yes, this is a classic nickname he calls you when you're alone. It may be cheesy but, he loves be it. And as for you, you love it as well. You feels so special in a way, when he calls you darling. It gives you butterflies in your stomach.

• Peaches are your favorite fruit, although; you rarely ate them. Shoto figured it was because you didn’t have time to pick some. For you both were way too busy with hero studies to do so. Therefore, he somehow convinced Mr. Aizawa to take him to a peach farm… Perks of being the number one hero’s son.

When you had first heard him say that, you were confused. So when you asked him how he got the nickname, you were surprised and very amused at the same time.

“Aww! You remember! I like peaches! That’s so sweet Shou!”

He only nodded, and there was a stumble small smile when you called me Shou.

| Y/N |

• How do I even begin with this… nickname. Icyspicy? Really? What kind of nickname is this T^T? I can’t even believe how nonchalant Shoto was about it.

He was a bit confused, though; there was surprisingly faint pink hue upon his cheeks when you called out his “nickname”.

“Where did you even come up with that?” He questioned.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. I figured since you have an ice and a fire quirk. I’d give you a nickname that is combined with it.” You smile. He pat your head in amusement.

• “Hey there hot stuff~” You purr in Shotos ear, as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. Okay, now this took him by surprise. He was barely getting used to icyspicy, but now you are coming up with nicknames left and right.

“Where do you get theses nicknames…”

“From my heart hot stuff ❤︎“

• At this point Shoto doesn’t even know nor question, where you get your.. unique… nicknames for him… “Marry Christmas candy cane! I love you!” You say, as you handed him a present and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Merry Christmas to you too love.” He kissed your nose and walked away.

“Hey! Candy cane! You can’t just do that and walk away!” You exclaimed, flustered by his action.

• Shou is his permanent nickname. Out of all the nickname you called him. You’ve been thinking about it for a while, but never came up with anything. You wanted to give him a permanent nickname. One that you could proudly call him out to without embarrassing him. “Hmm…” you thought as you wrote down some nicknames.

You played around with it, until you “accidentally” spelled him name wrong. “Hmm… oh! Opps—wait…” you looked at the writing. Shou… “sounds like shoe hehe.” You giggled as you doddle around.

The next day, you had accidentally called him Shou. He was confused. “Oops! Sorry, I wasn’t trying to call you that—“

“I like it. Sounds cute.” He smiles slightly. You blush a little. “Oh.. alright than,” you giggled.

“Anyways! Shou~ let’s go on a date! I wanna have you all to myself today!” You cheekily winked. He agreed and left to go change. “Oh! Shou!” You called out to him. He turns around curiously. “I love you!” You smile, before running off.

————————————————————————

A/n: Thanks for reading! Have a good day and night! I’ll be working on the rest, so stay tuned! 🐝 👑 2️⃣1️⃣

#hispanic reader #latina reader #nicknames bnha #bnha nicknames #bnha x reader #reader x bnha #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #izuku x reader #shoto x reader #tamaki x reader #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shinou x reader

[mitsua]

hi, your theme is amazing :)

i hope it wouldnt be any trouble to request headcanons of hawks, tenya and aizawa (seperate) with an s/o whos quite rebellious, moody and silly? kinda like rusty-james from rumble fish or steve randle from the outsiders haha

🪼: Hellooo ! I'm so happy you liked my theme !! Thanks for requesting and your patience as well, here we go

                                                                  

Warnings : bad grammar & spelling mistakes

Genre : fluff

Serie : Boku No Hero Academia

S/o's . . . GN !

                                                                  

Them with an S/o who's rebellious, moody & silly

His interest will be picked.

Depending if you're a hero, villain, vigilante . . . he'd get to know you sooner or later.

If you get to meet each other on a battle, no matter your role there, he'd most probably get to know your rebellious & moody side or rebellious & silly side.

However, as the time kept running, it'd still be a short meeting as if to get to know your three strongest attitudes.

As circumstances kept making you both bump into each other; prison, missions, battle fields, classroom ( as teacher ofc ), etc. Aizawa discovered more sides of you.

Just as he'd try to be strict — as his sleepiness allowed him to be — he'd find funny some remarks you make but tried everything to keep a straight face all times.

If any hero found annoying your behaviour as their assigned companion on a mission, he'd try to negotiate exchanging partners because he " tolerates you better ". He only wants to spend more time with you.

Something similar to Aizawa, no matter your position in society — villain, hero, etc. — there's no much of a problem.

It'd just be a time matter wether he meets you sooner.

As you'd see, he's kinda silly himself, but does everything to do the best for everyone when it's important so he'd ask to you to do the same.

As there's times to joke, there's time to get serious and help.

How is it that the so called " playboy " or " traitor ", one way or another, just asked to see you ? of all people ?

Conferences, fights, ( flights depending on your quirk ), your noticeable energy and qualities would make him fall on his knees for you.

Even if your moody side would be difficult to attend sometimes, he'd learn to care for it as well, " It's a trait of yours, 'course I'd like it too !". He'd say if you ever got insecure about it.

This, was for starters, what made him want to look out for you.

The first meeting must have gone funny I bet.

He 'd feel, at first, some kind of resentment towards you. Because maybe you were doing something a lil' illegal or were simply not wearing the school's uniform as it should be.

Whatever the occasion, he'd not be interest in someone who's not passionate at following the law.

At first.

As you somehow kept on appearing in front of him, maybe some chats you'd two get made him recognize a mistake of his. His prejudice of you much earlier than he could really say he knows you.

Your occasional jokes may be what finally made him want to stay with you.

He tries to ask if you're sure of what you're doing and if it's worth the risk.

He doesn't want to lose you by some Saturday night's stupidity.

" Your unbreakable spirit and permanent loyalty " might be the first qualities he'd love about you.

                                                                  

                                                                  

#mitsua #mitsuawrites #hcs #mha #fluff #bnha #headcanons #anime #x reader #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks #shouta aizawa headcanons #aizawa headcanons #my hero academia aizawa #tenya x you #boku no hero academia tenya #tenya x y/n #request #hawks x reader #shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shōta #tenya iida imagine #bnha tenya #tenya lida #iida tenya #tenya iida x reader

[thewayofthemandalorian]

afraid to jinx it - oneshot

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: Marcus Moreno needs to return to work, and to do so needs to hire a nanny to care for his young daughter, Missy. He never anticipated falling in love with you, or that you would feel the same. 

Word count: 5,354

Notes: Marcus Moreno is 1000% a nanny guy and no one can tell me any differently. I’ve made a few changes to canon with this fic: for starters, Marcus is not a widower but is still a single father; secondly, I’ve aged down Missy to be four years old since I don’t think a 13 year old really needs a nanny and Missy seems pretty independent in the movie. 

This fic is cross-posted to my AO3 account under the same name, which can be found linked in my masterlist. Follow @thewayofthemandalorian-writes​ and turn on notifications for fic updates.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified, but reader is in her late 20′s), boss-employee relationship, mutual attraction, swearing perceived power imbalance, kissing, non-explicit sexual content (including female receiving oral), protected sex.

masterlist (main) || masterlist (marcus moreno)

“When can you come back to work?” 

It’s a question that Marcus Moreno has been asked a lot, in ever-increasing volumes. Since Missy was born, he’s been on a leave of absence as leader of the Heroics, graciously allowing Miracle Guy, Steve Boyd, to take his place until Marcus returns. 

Since Missy was two, he’s been working remotely in a consulting role. His mom picks up a lot of the slack when he’s busy. It’s not fair to anyone. He knows his mom has her own life, and while she never complains and is always happy to take care of her granddaughter, Marcus knows that it isn’t a permanent solution. 

It’s Anita’s idea, when Marcus is half-apologizing, half-thanking her for taking care of Missy while he works on his consultation. “Why not hire a babysitter or a nanny? So you can go to work and not have to worry. It is no trouble watching her, mijo, but hiring someone would clear up both of our plates and you can go to work.” Leave it to Anita Baltra Moreno to be altruistic and no-nonsense while also reassuring her son.

So, Marcus and Anita take Missy in her stroller, and put up job listings around the major hotspots for college students or graduates in the hopes that someone will see the listing and be: a) interested and b) qualified enough. Marcus is not worried so much about qualifications or a ton of experience in childcare. Some experience would be ideal but he’s more interested in personality. If the prospective nanny would get along with his daughter. A nanny could have an extensive resume but not click at all with his daughter. He’d rather have someone who fits that balance of being a good enough caretaker and getting along with Missy. 

So, he posts the advertisements, even putting some on job websites, in the hopes that someone, anyone, will apply. 

He gets many applications, but there’s only one that truly meets his eye.

When you saw the listing for a nannying job, you never expected to hear Marcus Moreno of the Heroics’ voice on the phone when he calls to set up an interview after submitting your – in your opinion – meager application. 

He meets you for the interview at a coffee shop, explaining to you that his daughter, Missy, is turning four soon and will be starting half-day kindergarten in the fall, attending Tuesdays, Thursdays and every other Friday in the morning, coming home at lunchtime; your duties would be to arrive at his house in time to see her off to the school bus, pick her up from the bus, give her lunch, and spend the afternoons with her until Marcus gets home, usually at five-thirty. That seems reasonable to you. Plus, Marcus thinks she’s old enough now that he can start scaling up his availability with the Heroics again. Not on a full-time basis, he would go on the days that Missy is at school and his days off would line up with her days off.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where’s her mom?” you ask.

Marcus takes a long sip of his coffee, trying to think of a diplomatic way to explain what happened with his ex-fiancée. “She hasn’t been in the picture since Missy was a year and a half.” He tells you that she left one morning when the house was still asleep, paperwork signing away her maternal rights and her engagement ring on the kitchen island next to the coffee maker. A note saying I didn’t want this life. Marcus tried to find her, but when he did, she explained that she never wanted to be a mother, but she hoped that she would grow into the role of being a mom. The pregnancy had been an accident, a happy one for Marcus, who always wanted to have kids. “We ended things a while ago, it’s just been us and my mom for the past two and a half years.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say.

Marcus likes you. You’re kind and have a gentle way about you. You don’t seem to agitate easily. A calm level-headedness is exactly what he’s looking for. “I know that you don’t have the most impressive of applications,” he starts, “but I think you would be a good fit. What are you studying?” 

You tell him that you just finished your degree in accounting. “It’s very tedious, but I’m good with numbers.” 

“So, why nanny for me if you’ve got a degree in accounting?” he asks. 

You shrug. “I like kids and nowhere is hiring at the moment in my field. Gotta pay the bills somehow, right?” you chuckle. 

Marcus smiles, remembering his own college bills. “And your application lists you as being in your late twenties.”

“That’s right. I was the oldest graduate in my program. Most people in the course were fresh out of high school. I took some time off after graduating high school. Also, my mom kept me at home for an extra year before sending me to kindergarten. So, there’s that to it as well.” 

He nods. He’s glad that you’re not in your early twenties; being in your late twenties makes you more mature and level-headed than other applicants, which is good for Missy. He got an application from a nineteen year old and had to let her down gently.

“Before I can officially offer you the job, I’d like Missy to meet you, make sure she’s okay with you first,” explains Marcus. “I do think you’ll be a great fit, though.” 

You offer a demure smile. “Thanks. I hope it works out well.” 

- - - - 

That had been six months ago. After that meeting with Marcus, you’d met Missy, who asked you two questions: if you liked drawing and if you knew how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. Your answers to both those questions was a resounding yes. Missy had just nodded solemnly at her father and went back to colouring her Little Mermaid picture. 

Now you and Missy are as thick as thieves. The four year old is such a sweet little girl. She’s an easy kid, never any fuss or disagreements. At least, not to the extent that you were originally anticipating. She is only four, so she does get some ideas into her head that are a bit difficult to dissuade her from, but for the most part she is a very good listener. 

Marcus likes your easy presence in the house; you’re kind and patient and you are considerate. You have a real way with Missy, an empathy to you that is not easily found in most people. You’re always doing stuff for him. Making sure that dinner is ready when he gets home, something that wasn’t in your contract. He’d told you after a week of your cooking that you didn’t have to. You’d shrugged and said that you like doing it. He can admit that you’re pretty. The attraction had been almost instant, but he’d pushed it away, thinking that he’s just noticing you because of everything that you’re doing for him and Missy. He’s noticing your kindness and how you do things for him as well as for Missy that you don’t have to, but do anyway because you want to. 

It’s inappropriate, having a crush on his employee. It would be crossing a line that is there for a reason. Not to mention he’s ten years older than you. He doesn’t want to pressure you or take advantage of you. He isn’t that kind of person. 

Your friend and roommate Alison is convinced that you have a crush on Marcus. Ever since he insisted on calling him Marcus instead of Mr. Moreno (claiming that “Mr. Moreno makes me sound old”) at that first meeting in the coffee shop in June. You’d noticed his good looks and his soft but commanding when it needed to be nature long before you’d officially met him and started nannying for his kid. He’s a Heroic, a public figure, who is often in the media, trending on Twitter often, especially now that he’s started to work for them again. But seeing him in a tweet or on the news is different from seeing the real him. Who can’t make scrambled eggs for shit and hates wearing contacts because they hurt his eyes and enjoys his coffee with a hint of cream and loves his daughter more than anyone. The media flattens a lot of things. Seeing him in a day-to-day setting is way different to seeing him in the public eye. For example, you would never know that he hates using his telekinetic-magnetic powers when he doesn’t have to. Outside of showing off the first time he met you, he hasn’t used that ability once in the time you’ve known him. You’d been attracted to the public persona of Marcus Moreno – who hasn’t been? – but you like the real Marcus Moreno a lot more.

Marcus wants you to know the real him. Not the put-on version of himself that he uses for Heroics appearances or appearances in the press. 

All that being said, you aren’t going to let your feelings be known. He’s your boss. Hard pass. You don’t want to be fired for harassment. You’re there for Missy’s sake and Missy’s sake only. However, that doesn’t mean you can’t look. You can look, but you can’t touch.

- - - - 

Marcus asks you one morning if you can stay a bit later than usual. He has a date that night. You try not to let your childish disappointment show when you say, “Sure, that’s no problem.”

If he notices your disappointment, he doesn’t say anything. Just like he doesn’t say that the blind date is so he can move on from this ridiculous attraction he has for you. He’d seen you in leggings and a nice top the other day and had to go stand in the cold shower for a lot longer than he was willing to admit. 

So, he prepares himself for the date, allows you to tie his tie, which is horribly, terribly ironic, and tells Missy to behave herself for you. 

The date is perfectly… cromulent. It’s fine. Amanda is a nice enough woman. Pretty, enthusiastic, passionate about what she does. But as he sits across from her at the fancy restaurant that she chose, he thinks that he’d much rather be at home, doing tex-mex or pizza with Missy and you. It’s not that Amanda is complicated, she’s not. She just… doesn’t seem the type that would go for breakfast for dinner or sloppy joes the way that you do. She doesn’t seem to be the type that would dance with his daughter in the kitchen to Taylor Swift, or take her to the zoo or colour with her. She’s missing that warmth that you have. That unassuming loveliness you have and—

Oh, hell. 

Marcus clears his throat. “Amanda? Um, I’m very sorry, but I have to cut tonight short. You’re very nice and it was good to meet you, but I don’t think this is going to work out.” It wouldn’t be fair to finish this date, to stay on this date when he’s thinking about another woman. His mother raised him better than that. 

When he gets home, an empty box of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets is on the counter, broken down and ready to be recycled. Two dirty plates sit next to the box, not yet put in the dishwasher but everything else is as he left it. He can hear the telltale sounds of The Sea Beast, a recent favourite of Missy’s, coming from the living room. 

When he sees you and Missy curled up together, watching the movie for what seems to be the six hundredth time, his heart nearly bursts at the sight. This isn’t just a fleeting crush he has on you, a brief attraction. He has genuine feelings for you. 

Missy is sleeping, curled up on one side of you like a koala bear. You’re diligently watching the movie even if Missy is asleep. Marcus clears his throat and you look up. “You’re back early.”

Marcus sits down on the couch on the other side of you, careful not to wake Missy. Her breathing changes for a minute, then evens out and deepens, dead to the world. “Yeah. She was nice, but it wasn’t going to work.” He looks around at the room. “I see your night was much more successful.” 

You nod. “Yeah. We read a little bit of her early chapter book, had some dinner, and now, as you can see, we’re watching a movie. Or at least, I am.” You press pause on the remote. 

“I can take her to bed if you like?” Marcus offers, looking at you intently. 

“Sure. Her teeth are already brushed and I gave her a bath after dinner.” 

You’re just doing your job, but Marcus loves how you take care of Missy. Marcus scoops up Missy into his arms. She wakes for just a minute, then falls back to sleep in her dad’s arms. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you to bed,” he murmurs softly to her. 

A few minutes later, Marcus comes out of Missy’s bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him. You’re tidying up in the kitchen. “Don’t worry about that, cariño,” Marcus says, the term of endearment slipping out unintentionally. “I can do that.” He grabs a beer from the fridge, holds it out. “Want one?”

You’re a bit flummoxed. “Uh. I have to drive home so, no. Thank you.” 

“Oh. Right. Water, then? A soda?” 

“Water’s fine.” 

He pours you a glass of water and makes his way into the living room. “How was tonight?” he asks. 

You follow him into the living room. “Yeah, it was good. Missy’s a really good kid.” You don’t have to go home right away, so you sit down next to Marcus, switching off the tv. 

“Thanks again for staying late tonight and getting her ready for bed and everything. For everything you do for m– for us.” 

You smile shyly, trying very hard not to notice the way Marcus is sitting very close to you, so close that his thigh is almost touching yours. “It’s no trouble. I like hanging out with Missy. I like this job.” 

Marcus grins. “I’m glad. She really likes you, too.” There’s a pause. “I have this Heroics thing coming up in a few weeks. Sort of a social event, meeting with the Heroics branch in Houston.” 

You nearly choke on your water. “Houston? That’s, like, three hours away.” 

“I know. I’m not really looking forward to it since it’s so far away, but Priya Granada, my boss, says that since I’m stepping up again, I have to go. It’s a few weeks out. I’ll likely stay at the hotel and come back first thing on Friday morning. Mom’s out of town that week so I can’t have Missy sleep over. So I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind staying the night that night? I know it’s not in your job description, and I’d pay you extra, and—”

“Marcus. I’d be happy to. Just tell me when and I’ll be there,” you say, patting him on the knee. Marcus’s hand itches to cover your hand. He looks at your face for a few lingering seconds, wondering how he got so lucky to find you. 

You don’t stay for much longer, since you have an early start tomorrow. Bidding Marcus a goodnight, you head out to your car and wonder the entire ride home if you misread the signs he was giving you tonight.

- - - - 

Before you know it, the day of the Heroics event has arrived. You show up with an overnight bag slung on your shoulder, Alison’s teasing still ringing in your ears. You officially have it bad for your boss. Since the night of his failed date, you’re sure that Marcus might have an attraction for you, too. Either that or your feelings for him are clouding your judgment on reading things. Usually you’re good at reading other people. Even Marcus. You can tell when he’s in a bad mood or frustrated about something. But since that night of his ill-fated date, he’s been giving different signals than you’re used to. 

You’re not uncomfortable with these new signals. Not by any stretch. You just wish you knew what they meant. You like him. A lot. To the point that when you use your vibrator these days, it’s him that you imagine when you close your eyes. 

Marcus is already dressed for the event. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he laments as he stuffs things haphazardly into his own overnight bag. 

“The joys of PR,” you say drily, knowing very little about said topic. 

He’s left a list of things that need to be done, Missy’s bedtime routine and what time she usually wakes up. It’s Thursday and tomorrow she has school, so she needs to be up at a certain time to catch the bus. 

“The guest bedroom is being renovated,” he rambles, as if forgetting that you’re aware that he’s in the long process of painting the guest bedroom, “and the couch isn’t really that great for sleeping, so you will have to sleep on an air mattress in Missy’s room.

“I’ll figure it out,” you say. 

He kisses Missy on the forehead and tells her to be good. Then he looks at you, and is it just your imagination or do his eyes flicker to your lips for a second? “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The entire drive to Houston, Marcus thinks about you and Missy when he’s not mentally bitching about this event that he has to go to. The only good thing about it will be the free, catered food, paid for by the Heroics bosses. He supposes it would be nice to meet some of the counterparts, mingle a little bit. And it’ll be the first night in god knows how long that he has to himself. He loves Missy, more than anything or anyone. But he needs a night where he doesn’t have to worry. Doesn’t have to think about getting her ready for bed or anything like that. He wouldn’t trade that in for anything, but having a night to himself is something that he can admit to looking forward to. He only wishes that he had someone — you — to share that with. 

When he arrives at the hotel, he goes up to the front desk. “May I help you, sir?” asks the front-desk girl. Annie, her name tag says. 

“Marcus Moreno here for the Heroics event.” 

Annie types a few keys on her computer. “Very good, Mr. Moreno. The event is being held in the ballroom. Just through that hallway over there, across from the pool and fitness room. Was there anything else, sir?” 

Marcus frowns. “I thought I was also getting a room?” he asks. 

Annie goes into the room bookings page, searches for the name MORENO. “Did you make a reservation?” she asks. 

“My boss was supposed to.” He resists the urge to squeeze the bridge of his nose, not wanting to irritate his stupid contact lenses. “Is there anything available?”

The front-desk girl gives an apologetic look. “I’m afraid not, sir. Between the Heroics event and the hockey tournament this weekend, everything is booked up. I’m sorry.” 

Marcus sighs. It isn't the girl's fault. He should have double checked when he never got a booking confirmation forwarded to him. Made his own reservation and asked Ms. Granada to reimburse him. He offers her what he hopes to be a genuine smile. “It’s fine.” 

He doesn’t relish the idea of driving home at one in the morning, but what else is he supposed to do? Marcus doesn’t really want to spend time looking for hotels. He knows that he wanted a night to himself but at this point, it’s easier to drive home.

He spends the entire night thinking about you when he’s mingling. Not strictly in a, “I wonder how she’s doing and that everything’s going okay” kind of way either. Most people have brought plus-ones to the event. Marcus is one of the few that doesn’t have a date or a spouse with him. He wants that to be different. He’s stayed away from dating for the most part because of Missy’s age and needing to be there for her. Missy will always be his top priority, but he can admit that he’s lonely in other areas of his life. The only time he’s not lonely is the fleeting moments he spends with you. There’s something there with you, something that could turn into the real thing. He doesn’t know how to broach that subject with you. It’s funny. Marcus Moreno, who charges headfirst into life-threatening things with the Heroics, doesn’t know how to tell you how he feels. 

- - - -

The air mattress leaks. As soon as you lie down on it to test it after Missy’s on the bus going to school, it begins to deflate. Not good. By morning time, you know the air mattress will be fully deflated. You can’t sleep on it. It will kill your back. Just like the couch will. It’s soft on the couch, but not in a supportive way. The Morenos need a new couch, something that Marcus is already aware of. 

You fret the entire day. There’s only one solution besides sucking it up. Which is to sleep in Marcus’s bed. It completely crosses the line. If he ever found out, he would fire you, you know he would. But he wouldn’t have to find out. He’d only be back tomorrow in the afternoon. You could easily have the sheets washed and put back on before he even knew. He wouldn’t have to find out. Plus he sprung it on you kind of last second. 

It’ll be fine. 

You go through the motions of taking care of Missy, feeding her, taking her to the park, reading with her. You give her a bath and get her into her jammies before tucking her into bed. It’s early still, so you watch something on low volume on Netflix until a more reasonable time to go to sleep. Getting into your own pajamas, you get into the bed. The idea of sleeping in your boss’s bed is not something you’ve entertained (okay, that’s a bit of a lie, you have entertained that thought, but under a very different context), so it is very bizarre getting into his bed.

You think you’re going to be too wired to sleep, but the scent of his soap and the laundry detergent embedded into the sheets from countless uses and washes soothes you. It’s a great bed. Way better than sleeping directly on the floor. You’d checked the air mattress again after dinner, still in Missy’s bedroom, and it had completely deflated. There’s a leak in there somewhere. You wonder when the last time it was used had been. 

When you wake, it’s still dark. The house is quiet and still, so you have no idea what woke you up. It takes you a minute to remember where you are. Whose bed you are in. There’s movement at the door. You’re still mostly asleep, your voice groggy when you say, “Missy? Is that you?” 

You blink the blurriness out of your eyes and switch on the lamp. It isn’t Missy. “M–Marcus!” You’re fully awake now, panic and embarrassment coursing through you. “What are you–I’m so sorr–”

The rest of your sentence is cut off when Marcus strides across the room to the bed in two strides, rests his large hands on either side of your neck and kisses you. You gasp, not having expected this at all. It’s not an unwelcome surprise, but you’re pretty sure that you might be dreaming. 

Marcus breaks the kiss, panting heavily. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. Tell me that I’m not misreading things, that the signals are there.” 

Blinking in confusion, you look at him. “You’re not misreading them. I’ve wanted to do that for a while, too, but…” 

Marcus takes your confusion as rejection. “I get it. I’m your boss, it’s inappropriate.” 

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I was going to say, Marcus. I was going to say, I thought you didn’t want me the same way… the same way that I want you.” 

He actually scoffs. “Are you kidding me? How could I not want you? You’re… amazing. You’re so kind and caring and warm and you’re so good with Missy. I’ve wanted this, wanted you for a very long time. Almost since I met you.” He can’t help himself, he has to kiss you again. “I stayed away because…” 

You understand immediately “I know, that’s why I stayed away too.” 

“I was going to broach the subject later. But then, seeing you in my bed?” Marcus can’t finish that thought; he hopes his hungry kiss is enough to tell you how he feels about that. 

Still, you feel sheepish. “I should have called or texted before assuming. I’m s—”

“It’s fine, bebita. If I'd known you were waiting for me in my bed I would have come home sooner, sweetheart." 

You’re still not sure if you’re dreaming or not. Your breath catches and before you can steady it, he’s kissing you again. You’re almost in his lap. You can feel that he wants you as much as you want him. After months of pent-up tension and pining, you almost snap like an elastic band. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Marcus tells you in between kisses. His mouth has moved to your jaw, working a line down to your neck. Every nerve in your body is on fire and you haven’t even done anything yet. The throbbing between Marcus’s legs that you feel pressed against you, combined with your own want for him tells you that that will change soon enough. 

“I don’t want you to stop. Don’t stop,” you tell him. 

Marcus kisses you as he takes off more and more of your sleeping clothes. “You always take such good care of us – of me. Let me take care of you for once.” 

He takes such good care of you. First with his hands and his mouth, not stopping until he knows you’ve gotten what you need, until you are fully and completely satisfied with what his skilled fingers and his deft tongue have done to you. He doesn’t take long before he’s reaching for a condom, something he’s surprised he has in his night table and isn’t expired: it’s been a while. “If you feel uncomfortable at all, please let me know,” he says as he’s easing himself into you. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he repeats. 

You don’t want him to, and you make it clear that you don’t by kissing him, wrapping your legs around him as he settles inside, pulling him as flush to you as possible as he begins to move. “Y’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs. You’ve always seen Marcus collected, sure of his words. Seeing him run his mouth, stuttering over words as your hips stutter against his is entirely new and entirely endearing to you, seeing how you have an effect on him in this way. “Take what you need, bebita,” he grunts. “Take it, it’s yours.” 

You do, making sure he takes what he needs as well. He kisses you as you work through your respective highs, holding you close. 

“I still got it,” he smirks. 

“I’d say so,” you reply. “Holy shit. Not that I’m complaining, but that’s not how I expected to be woken up at…” you glance at the clock, “four-thirty a.m. I thought you were only staying there?” 

Marcus grumbles. “Long story.” 

You yawn, drowsy after the impromptu events. “What does this mean for…for us? For my job?” 

He kisses your temple. “Sleep, querida. We can talk in the morning.” 

- - - - 

When you wake next, it’s broad daylight. You’re still naked from the events of earlier this morning. The bedsheets are rumpled beside you. You stretch, enjoying the burn in your thighs and the ache between your legs. You have to get up, get Missy to school—

Missy! 

You’re about to bolt out of bed when you see the note on the bedside table, written in Marcus’s boxy script. Don’t worry about Missy, I’m driving her to school. You looked so peaceful sleeping I didn’t want to wake you. x – MM

Stiffly you make your way to the ensuite bathroom to take a shower. You don’t have your overnight bag with you, it’s still in the living room, so you take one of Marcus’s shirts, a green one that you love on him. 

Under the steam of the hot shower, the night’s events play back in your mind’s eye. Had that really happened? Were it not for the burn in your thighs and the ache between your legs, you’d say that it had been a very vivid dream. It feels impossible. 

You’re coming out of the bathroom, damp and dressed in Marcus’s shirt and your jammie pants. He’s carrying two to-go cups of coffee. “Hey,” he says when he sees you, handing you your coffee and following you to the couch in the living room. “Is that my shirt?” 

“It’s mine now.” You both chuckle and then you turn serious. “About last night…” 

Marcus stops you. “I know it’s inappropriate and unconventional, and I want you to know that it’s never been my intent to take advantage of you. So I understand if you feel at all uncomfortable.”

You have a lot to say; it comes out in a bit of a word vomit, but you can’t stop yourself from talking. “Marcus, I don’t feel like you’ve taken advantage of me at all. I know it’s unconventional but I like you. I liked last night. A lot. I like you a lot. I know there’s a bit of an age gap between us and that there is a perceived power imbalance because you’re my boss, but you’ve never made me feel that way. You’ve never exerted that power over me. If I didn’t want to be with you last night, I would have made it clear and told you. I promise.” 

Though Marcus knows that already, knowing you well enough to know that that’s true, he exhales, relief evident in his features. He’s wearing his glasses again; he’d had to wear his contacts last night. He looks more like himself in his glasses. He bends his head and kisses you. “I’m relieved to hear that. I like you too. A lot. I have for a while. I just didn’t know how to tell you without making it weird. Last night just kind of… set things in motion, I guess? I don’t know. I just think that you’re wonderful and I didn’t want to not tell you.” He pauses. “Speaking of which, why were you in there last night?”

You feel warm and fuzzy at the admission before explaining the snafu with the air mattress. “I don’t know how this is going to work with Missy and my job, but if you want to hire a different nanny, that’s totally fine. I just wasn’t expecting you to come back last night. But I’m glad that you did. Very glad.”

Marcus strokes your knuckles with his thumb. “Me too. And we can figure it out. Speaking of Missy, we should let her know what’s going on. At least in a way that’s kid-friendly.” You agree with that, not wanting to confuse the little girl any more than she needs to be. 

“So does that mean I can take you out on a date soon?” he asks after kissing you again. Now that he can do that, he can’t seem to get enough. 

“I’d love to. But we will have to find a nanny,” you tease with a coy smile, excited at the prospect of whatever comes next with Marcus.

The End

#pedro pascal #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x f!reader #we can be heroes #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #marcus moreno #marcus moreno fanfiction #my fic #my writing

[the-gateway-to-madness]

Spirit Blood

I'd forgotten about this bit of ROTG lore I made up lesgooo

Okay, so, the basic concept is that spirits/Chosen/whatever you call the race the Guardians are, are of course not entirely physical- magical rather than mortal. That's a "no, duh" if you've watched the movie.

So what does that mean for their blood?

It's probably incredibly potent for dark magic, for starters, but that's not my main headcanon about it. I think that it's tough to make them bleed, but that if it's managed, and two spirits' blood mixes directly, wound to wound, it creates a powerful, permanent magical link between them. A kind of bond unique to spirits/Chosen/you know what I mean, and unique to the two beings that have been bonded.

Things I've thought of concerning soulbonds:

They're permanent. One of the spirits in the bond has to be killed for it to be broken (though, like Sandy or the monsters from PJO, I think they all come back after they're killed).

For most spirits, only one bond at a time is possible, as it's too overwhelming to have multiple open connections to other spirits at once.

They have a varying range of effects. The basic one is a direct connection between the spirits' minds, allowing for the passing of emotions, concepts, ideas, and understanding back and forth at will (though, no outright, verbal thoughts can pass through). The more open and close the two spirits are, the stronger the bond becomes, and the easier it is to pass things back and forth.

Other effects include both spirits always having an abstract sense of where the other is, and the ability to recognize each other in spite of invisibility, shapeshifting, curses, or anything else.

Passive abilities or traits may be shared between soulbound spirits; for example, if one has night vision, or one is sensitive to heat or cold, such things might be automatically shared between the soulbound. Other abilities, like Jack's winter-specific powers, Bunny's plant powers, or Sandy's sand-summoning, are distinctly individual and cannot be shared.

Soulbonding is commonly used in spirit wedding ceremonies but is not limited to them or required in them.

Each spirit will instinctively refer to the other as "my bond" or "my soulbond", as long as they've accepted the connection.

Soulbonds can be deliberately made stronger by sharing blood again, anytime the bonded spirits want; there's no ceremony or needed process or progression.

So- yeah.

(Have a concept I played with where someone bonded to Jack could use his staff to channel their magic)

#rise of the guardians #jack frost #rotg jack frost #rotg north #rotg tooth #rotg bunny #rotg bunnymund #rotg sandy #rotg headcanon #rotg

[problematicfanfics]

Kinktober ‘22 Oct 3. Teacher/Student (WIP)

TOMBUR, 17!Tom 26!Wil, power imbalance, high school, drug use

no NSFW (yet)

lots of jumping around since it’s unfinished, ignore all errors

* ⋆★

Tommy wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good kid.

He would do his homework. He attended all of his classes. He’s averaged an A so far the entire year. So yes, by textbook definition, Tommy was a good kid.

1 Snapchat Notification: Anthony 🤯

“Right before p5 meet C hall bthrm”

“Bring cart Nathan feening 💀”

But he knew the only reason he ever made it through the day was thanks to his passing period restroom stops.

Anyone attending a “Western” high school can explain to you the ins and outs of the passing period bathroom breaks all the teens line up for. Each group eagerly awaits for a friend who has the supply.

And if you’re painfully unaware of the dark market being run in every bathroom stall, Tommy loves to explain it as a “social thing”. He’s just generally a better person like this. It’s an easy conversation starter, a fast in, a way to curry favor with more well-known kids in his school.

And he’s realized his grades have never been better.

Ever since he started smoking weed in his tenth year, he’s found he’s a rather studious smoker. His grades improved dramatically. Math seemed to make sense and he wasn’t struggling with anxiety from his testing. Stiff seats are easy to sit still in when your body finally relaxes. Class notes now fit smoothly in his brain between his knowledge of minecraft and song lyrics. Nothing negative seemed to be coming of his habits, despite the fear he gets from running in this little underground market. Passing a teacher in the halls can be a normal life versus permanent felony situation if they so much as ask to search his bag.

“…that fucking bitch doesn’t know her left from her right. Mate, I swear to God, she asked my chemistry teacher which one is which.”

Tommy chokes on the nicotine he’s hitting, lungs collapse into laughter. Promptly he erupts into a fit of coughing

“Yo, dude, get that checked out…” One of his friends in the stall next door said. “Ha, as if. Imagine being like… ‘Hey mum, my nicotine addiction might be affecting my health, mind if we take a look at it down at the ol’ doctor’s office?’”

The stalls laugh at the absurdity of ever revealing this secret to their parents.

Who cares if he’s started coughing from the metal shards when he laughs?

The day he truly understands he’s a functioning addict is when he makes his fifth stop in the C hall restrooms, waiting for his friend Jay while squatting on the toilet, as his other friend pretends to be doing “normal stall things” (as he puts it).

He knows the risks every time, six boys crammed into a stall to trade flavors and discuss about the girls they want and the bitches they hate, the snake “friends” who rat out others and the teachers they despise. He’s always ready to jump to shut everyone up when a teacher walks in. Sometimes, however, his guard falls.

Fifth period Tommy attends a US History class, something he had wanted to take since he saw it was an available course. His love for the subject, plus his new found study buddy, made the class a perfect choice in his mind.

Tommy didn’t mind attending the class. It had taken him upwards of three weeks to learn the teacher’s name (Mr. Gold, but the class called him Soot), and who he was (he was hired by the school three years ago and has been a teacher ever since), and his love life (he has a girlfriend, but all his classes found a picture of her on his instagram and they think he can do better).

He didn’t, however, have a hard time committing Soot’s appearance to memory.

His curly hair fell perfectly every day without a fail. The tight button up shirts he wore required him to roll up his sleeves if he ever wanted any relief from the room’s broken AC. It’s hard for Tommy to not follow his hands switching between the board and the lesson plan on his desk.

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he thinks that Mr. Gold was finer than the heavens. It seemed to be a popular debate in this girl’s restroom, too; was Mr. Gold hot or was it just the power dynamic?

As Tommy sits with his legs up between the railing and the wall, inhaling his cart like it was his life force in preparation for his fifth period class, he turns his phone for his friends to see. “You can’t tell me he isn’t hot!” He says as he gives the phone over to an equally contorted friend of his. “Gold? Tommy, you’re crazy. He isn’t that hot.”

“Listen I’m not gay but I’d be a victim. I’m just saying.” Tommy takes the phone back as he preheats the battery. One of his friends nods in agreement.

As the debate continues over the attractiveness levels of Wilbur's instagram posts, Tommy pulls up an old high school yearbook photo of the man. “You can’t say you wouldn’t want William Gold to fuck you, I honestly think I give this man fuck me eyes in class accidentally.” Tommy practically yells to prove his point to Aj.

Suddenly, a loud presence enters the bathroom.

“Ok, I know there’s more than one of you in there. Everybody out.”

The boys look around nervously to one another as Tommy holds back laughter. That is definitely Soot.

There is a tense pause. No one wants to respond out of fear of punishment (and slightly because he had to have overheard the conversation they were just having). “Guys, I’m not playing games here. Let’s go. We can take this to the head if we need.”

Quickly the boys hop down from their acrobatic positions and grab their backpacks.

“One, two, three of you!” Mr. Gold sighs at the sight. “Wow, no! There’s more! Five? SIX? There were six of you in there? My God it’s like a fucking clown car.”

The boys shift nervously under his look. “Listen, I don’t care. It’s just protocol. You’re lucky I’m not taking you down to the counselor, it smells like weed in here.” Everyone exchanges quick looks as they continue to try to hide the obvious vapes inside their hoodie sleeves.

“So you just… don’t care?” Tommy pipes up. His friends shoot him scathing looks, as if telling him to not push their luck and get out while they can.

Wilbur seems taken aback by the question. “Well, it’s not that I don’t care, it’s just… Listen, don’t say I’m letting you guys smoke in the stalls. I’m not. I just think you’re smart enough to not be dumb with it again.”

“But if you were truly concerned for our safety wouldn’t you confiscate our shit?”

“Listen, this is great energy Tommy, how about you keep it up in class and stop giving me fuck me eyes the entire period. I get you’re high but try a little harder.”

The entire bathroom goes silent before erupting into laughter. People with no business in the situation Tommy can hear snicker in the background.

“I’ll make sure to have you work for your money today.” Tommy says before Gold shrugs him off to prepare for his incoming class.

“I am so sorry you have to attend his class now.” Tommy’s buddy Nathan pats him on the back. “The sexual tension during lessons boutta go crazy” Aj jokes as he motions Tommy to head to class with him.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Tommy says as he sits in front of the classroom door with his head in his hands. “How do I look him in the eyes? I’ll just skip class by going to the nurse.”

Aj jumps in front of him before he can leave. “We’re already five minutes late. Please let’s just go in. The longer you wait the worse it gets and you know that.” Tommy reevaluated his choices before finally agreeing that Aj was, in fact, right, and that they should attend class.

“Tom Simons, nice of you to join us.” Soot singles him out in the middle of his lesson. Tommy’s equally guilty friend slips into the back of the classroom undetected. “Please, take a seat.” The sarcasm drips from his lips.

Tommy sits in his usual seat far in the back next to Aj. The work was boring mundane class stuff. They used their laptops to research the battles fought during the American Independence War and Tommy finished within the first three minutes.

Tommy raises his hand to gloat to his teacher, ready for the victory as he tells Soot his work is “too easy” and to “give him a challenge.”

“I’m done, easy shit.” Tommy says when Soot finally strolls his way over to the seat. He wasn’t prepared for Wilbur to lean over behind him to read, or the way he said “Good job, Tommy” as he got up (he can’t help but imagine him whispering “good boy” into his ear).

His eyes shoot up to meet Wilbur’s. Every quick retort he had loaded to fire falters. He feels like he needs to say something.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Weren’t you just in there?” Soot makes a sarcastic sad face to mock Tommy’s surprised expression. “I remembered hearing a conversation about being a victim, if I’m not mistaken?”

Aj laughs as Tommy goes pale and forcefully chuckles. “Hey, haha, listen man, I-”

“Ok everyone, please discuss with the person next to you the notes you should have completed by now.” He redirects his attention back to the class, the low tone now projecting off the walls indicating he was referring to everyone.

Tommy turns to face his friend on his left. His shit eating grin left Tommy regretting his entire day.

“Can you send me the answers? I was too busy watching the in house entertainment”

About a week had passed since Tommy was caught, and he was being as careful as possible. Last thing he needed was another run in.

His fourth period lunch left quite a lot to be desired; in the mornings he was never hungry. Instead he fills himself with flavored air, weed, and a severely diluted once-iced coffee.

The lunch period only housed one friend every day, but on alternating days up to seven people would sit with them for lunch. Either way he was too high to notice anything happening around him. No difference was it to him if there was one or eight people, as long as he was being supplied the bodies didn’t matter.

These alternating days with a lot of people leads to everyone slowly making their way to the bathrooms after eating, using it as a pit stop and waiting out the remainder of their time.

Tommy had been waiting since 10:15, and the period ends at 10:30. He was finally getting his new cart today. For the last week he was either smoking scraps from all his empty carts at home or his friends’ at school. His “friend”/dealer had told him to wait in here but it was becoming ridiculous.

1 Snapchat Notification: Rizz 🤝

Rizz: “Soot’s on my ass but omw”

Tommy: “dude don’t come in here if Gold is gonna catch us.”

“he already doesn’t like me 💀”

Rizz: “Skill issue he doesn’t think i’m shady.”

“Or at least didnt before this.”

“Honestly Tommy i’d rather save my own ass and give u the shit before he catches me with 16 carts 💀 i’m dealing today i’m way overdue”

Tommy nervously taps his foot in the bathroom stall. He toys with the $50 in his pocket, rolling it up and flattening it. Honestly, he hates the way Rizz deals. His constant lateness, the sloppiness, as if he doesn’t care that this is something serious. This can be a crime if found out by the wrong person, and everyone will be in legal trouble. But to people like Rizz the real world doesn’t exist. The only reason Tommy continues to buy from him is because he gets a $15 discount (Tommy and Rizz’s cousin used to have a thing).

As he fumbles with the airbar in his hand he hears his “friend” walk in. “Open the stall door,” He knocks and Tommy unlocks it. “Here you fucking go.” He drops the cart in Tommy’s hand before opening his palm for the payment.

As he reaches for his pocket, the front bathroom door opens and the boys are sent jumping.

“What’re we doing here?” Gold asks the duo with his arms crossed. The door slams shut behind him.

“I’m paying him back for a meal he bought me last week,” Tommy explains as he gives the money to Rizz. “It was expensive.”

“I can tell. That’s a pretty big wad of cash. How much?”

“$50”

“And how much is a cart?”

“$65, so you can stop being weird about it now.”

“Ok, and so the constant going in and out of the bathrooms, Rizzario… is that just for fun or?”

He puts the money in his pocket. “It’s a pastime of mine. You should see the architecture up in here, truly stunning.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you get a kick out of it. Get to class.”

Tommy’s unfortunate second capture does not deter him from immediately smoking the cart with his friends minutes later in the same stall. He has been waiting for a week and he’ll be damned if he has to wait any longer. The lack of food in his system, along with his slightly reduced tolerance, makes walking to fifth period a little harder than usual.

Immediately upon sitting down it is revealed to Tommy by a kid sitting two seats ahead of him that there’s a test they are taking today and that he’s the only one who could “possibly forget about as big a test as this one.”, and he realizes he’s screwed up when even Aj is caught cramming at the last minute.

“Tommy, are you aware you failed my last test?”

“Yes Mr. Soot, I’m well aware. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you today. I think I’m a pretty good kid. I do my work, I participate in class, and up until this point I have passed every test with flying colors. Please understand that I do try in this class and I’m not afraid to do extra work to get my grade back up. I’m not asking you to just change my score, I’m really wondering if there’s anything I can do to work for my grade.”

Soot turns to face Tommy, taking off his glasses and laughing. “A good kid? I’d hardly call you a good student.”

“What? Are you crazy? I actually do your work. I do more work than anyone else in any of your classes. I’ve never missed homework, or class work, or done poorly on a test before this. I always answer questions in class and respond when you try to have open discussions in class.”

“And yet, despite all that, you’re not a good student.”

“You’re mental!” Tommy exclaims. “Listen, if you don’t want to tell me where I can get extra credit in my grade, or if you just don’t want me to, then say it! I don’t want nonsense.”

Soot stands from his desk to address Tommy. The silence in the air hangs tight as the man evaluates his words. “You know you’re lying to yourself when you say you’re a good kid.” He finally says. “You know you come into class high every day, with barely any awareness. You babble off in group discussions for minutes on end, related to and not related to the topic. Your homework is subpar at best.”

“At least it’s done, man.”

“We’re not friends, Tommy.”

“Yeah, no shit, I know that. That’s why I came to you in person after class.”

“Mrs. Mark told me you resolve all your issues over email.”

Tommy’s mouth gets dry. Why’s he talking to Mrs. Mark about him? She never liked him much or his tryhard attitude in her stupid Advanced English Language class.

“Did she say I’m a bad kid? I swear she hates me. She’s always picking on me in class.”

“It’s honestly funny Tommy, because if you tried at all you could be such an exceptional student.” His demeanor shifts. Tommy can’t put his finger, but it seems like Gold has something he’s hiding. His mind instantly jumps to things Mrs. Mark could’ve told him. “Everyone keeps telling me that. Clearly it isn’t true if this is me trying.”

The tired teacher throws his hands in the air. “Once again! The lying! You’re so blind to it.” He walks back to his desk from the board for a final time. Throughout his speech he traces the wooden grain on his desk, eyes not leaving the boy’s. “Tommy, listen. You’re such a bright student. You’re wasting yourself with this crap. I know everyone knows you, I understand that you’ve gained quite a highly positive popularity status in this school when it comes to the social hierarchy. But if you just tried you’d see how much more you can do with yourself.”

“Forget it, Soot. I’ll just do better on the next one.”

“Maybe we’ll resolve this over email.” Gold writes out his number on a late pass before handing it to Tommy. “However, I am much more likely to respond over text.”

“No shot.” Kim says as she hands the money to the shopkeeper. “Strawberry Kiwi elf please, love.”

Tommy fumbles, laughing as he pulls out his phone “I swear! Look, it’s saved right here.” He shows her Gold’s contact on his phone, the only texts sent being a “hello” from each of them.

“Then let’s call him.”

“What?”

“If it’s really him, let’s call him. We’ll grab a coffee and walk down to the tracks and call him.” She grabs the box from the cashier. “Thanks, and can we also have…?”

“Cherry Cola Diamond please.” Tommy points to the wall. He reaches over the counter to grab it from the guy. “We can’t just call him. I feel so nervous. What if he’s actually just trying to get me in serious trouble? I mean, look at us.” He points around to the smoke shop they’re in. “This isn’t ok.”

Kim starts walking to the bin down the hall as she unboxes her new toy. “Listen babygirl. Everyone in the school wants that man. You should hear how people talk about him.” She ghosts the nic before dropping it in her cross body bag and strutting out the door, leaving Tommy to catch up. “Bag him, bitch.”

After much debate and argument, finally, at one pm on a saturday, after smoking a joint and walking on the train tracks, Tommy’s finger hovers over the call button.

“Kim, I can’t do it.”

“For christ’s sake,” She hits the button with his finger and puts it on speaker before shooting him an encouraging thumbs up.

As the line rings, Tommy seriously considers laying down on the tracks until the 1:30 pm train hits him.

Finally the line picks up.

The microphone shuffles up against some fabric before becoming clear. Soot’s groggy morning voice seems to burn through his ears.

“Hey, Tommy. Sorry I was sleeping. What’s up?”

He opens his eyes wide and shakes his head no to Kim, who just continues to nod her very adamant yes.

“What am I supposed to say?” He whispers to her.

“Hello?” Soot calls out confused.

“Ask him if he’s free to chat after school tuesday.” She says obviously as she rolls her eyes. Tommy just gives her an almost disgusted look back. “I can’t just… oh my god.” He redirects his voice to the phone. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.” Was all he could manage.

Gold chuckles slightly. “Don’t worry. I needed to wake up anyway to grade all the homeworks.”

“You’re seriously gonna be grading homeworks?”

“No. You caught me.” They both lightly laughed before realizing they seriously don’t know what to say. “Uhm, what are you doing?” Gold finally asks.

“I’m hanging with my friend Kim, we’re under an overpass by the train tracks.”

“You’ll have to show me one day.”

“It’s right across from the school, maybe I’ll show it to you one day during your break.”

Kim squeals through her hands and kicks her legs like a middle school girl watching her friend call their crush.

“Yeah sure, I’d like that… Listen I should probably get my day started so I’ll-”

“Oh yeah no now of course, I understand. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Hope not, we don’t have school.”

“Ahaha, right. Forgot. Sorry, bye Soot.”

“Have fun Tommy,” Soot squeezes in before ending the call.

Tommy looks at Kim with a hatred in his eyes. “That was terrible.”

“…and then she made me call him!” Tommy explains his weekend to the morning bathroom bunch.

“You know Kim loves the drama. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s telling everyone right now!”

“Forreal man, why’d you even tell her that shit?” Kim’s ex boyfriend speaks up. “Trust me, she’s a conniving little shit.”

“I’m like best friends with her twin sister Janie ok? The friendship extends to her. Also she asked me to get nic with her. I couldn't say no, she always pays for me. Everyone thank Kim for the free nic.”

“Thanks Kim”s were mumbled throughout the stall.

Aj shoved Tommy hard enough he falls off the wall. “What did you even say? You can’t end there.”

“I was a nervous wreck! He like woke up to pick up the call and his voice was so fucking hot guys. It caught me so off guard to hear it was like one pm, I don’t know why he was sleeping…”

Tommy spent the remainder of their ten minute morning smoke sesh to fill them in on everything that went down, as well as field questions from his friends.

He wouldn’t lie, he loved it.

Just like with weed, it seemed as though good things only came with getting involved with Gold.

He was putting in good words with all his teachers (including Mrs. Mark!), he was the shit in all of his classes, and everyone wanted to know what was going to happen next.

Gold, as well as the rest of the staff of course, were painfully unaware of the rampant “teacher and student” buzz circling around the smoke circles.

Since Tommy’s last little stint with Gold it’s been one week and three days. Nothing has changed, except for having the favor of every teacher he has a class in. He’s too nervous to take the first step into a possible slippery slope of relations with his teacher (as any normal person would be. But sadly, Tommy is not a normal person, not by a long shot, and he knows this as fact as he lays in bed wondering what it would be like to have Gold 6 inches deep in him)

It’s hard to go to school when everyone thinks you’re fucking the teacher. It was supposed to be a joke, the whole thing; Tommy always chooses one joke a year to be his running gag. He had chosen the gay joke “crush on my teacher” route because of how ludicrous the idea of him and a male teacher ever getting together was to him. It was a joke he often made about the old, prehistoric male teachers he had in ninth year, as well as some of the older women too, though most were married and he always thought it felt wrong to talk like that about them.

The weekend rolled around once more and Tommy spent his time out late at friend’s houses, and finally out until two am on Sunday night. He had begged his parents for hours and when they said yes he didn’t care about the consequences of his decisions.

Finally, reality caught up to Tommy, and for the first time since he first started drinking in eighth grade he wakes up with a hangover. Classes seem damn near impossible to stay awake for. He deems his sunglasses aren’t providing enough darkness and accessorizes with a hat from the lost and found bin, in hopes that now the fifth period fluorescent light combined with seeing Soot’s arms won’t make him vomit all over himself.

He strolls into class three minutes late due to having been kneeled over the side of the toilet in the single stall gender neutral bathrooms just minutes earlier. Apparently it’s clear to everyone in the class he’s a hot mess, because all he can hear is everyone asking him if he’s doing alright. He dismissed each one with a “Yeah, no, just tired. You know how school is.”

Before he knew it he was face down on his keyboard.

Tommy was awakened thirty minutes later to the sound of a bang next to him. Mr. Gold had lifted the entire desk combo before dropping it on the ground. “See me after class, Tommy.”

He could probably feel the smirk from Aj’s face even if he was on the other side of the world.

“Really? Falling asleep in class? That’s a new low, even for you.” Gold reprimands him. Tommy stayed. Yes, even he is surprised by it. Usually he’s the first one out the door if a teacher has an issue with him. But something in him almost wanted to hear what he had to say. He was excited for the man to tell him everything he did wrong, how to improve, what to do.

“I’m sorry Mr. Gold. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

They both looked at each other for a minute. “What is your sixth period class?”

“Gym. Such a bore, I hate my teacher so much. She’s so pregnant she can’t even stand near us because she’s scared someone’s gonna hit her.” The two laugh at the situation. “I mean, I can’t help but wonder why she doesn’t just go on maternity leave. Almost all the female gym teachers are pregnant this year.”

“Hey, they got a lot of free time over the summer. What else are they supposed to do?”

“They don’t have to keep fucking like rabbits!” He jokes and they laugh.

Silence once again falls over the room. It’s like something stops them from ever holding a conversation beyond some jokes. They’re too scared to laugh for too long, too scared of being too close, and Tommy’s way too nervous to actually make the first move. Everything relied on Soot.

“Call me Wilbur.”

“What?”

“You can call me Wilbur. William isn’t my first name. Well, it is, but I go by Wilbur.”

“Real quick let me just,” Tommy pulls out his phone from his back pocket and changes Wilbur’s contact name. “I like it. And here, we’ll take a selfie for the photo.”

Tommy turned around and extended his arm to get the two of them in the picture, snapping it before saving all changes. “I think this was a productive chat, Wilbur.”

“Don’t call me that in class or we’ll have issues,” He jokes around (but Tommy feels the difference in the weight of those words). Tommy mocks him before grabbing his bag and heading for the door. “Before you go,” Wilbur stops him just inches shy of the door. “Want to show me that underpass?”

Wilbur called Tommy’s gym teacher, making her aware that the boy was “making up a failed test” and would not be able to attend the period. The two sent off on their walk, Wilbur with his messenger bag and Tommy with some snacks he had in his locker.

Their destination wasn’t far away by any means, but the walk felt like forever as they desperately grasped at straws in order to make small talk.

“So you got a girlfriend?” Wilbur looks at the boy before pulling out his phone. “This is her,” he says, showing a photo of a skinny blonde woman, eyes green, teeth white. “Her name’s-”

“Jenine?”

“Please stop stalking my socials.” Wilbur jokes as he puts the phone away. “But yeah, Jenine. We actually- well, she, actually - decided we should go on a break about four days ago. Took all her shit out of the flat.”

Tommy was taken aback by the demise of their relationship. They seemed really happy from all the posts he saw. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear, man.”

The brunet smiled genuinely. “Nah, don’t worry. Just got more space to put all my useless shit in”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, figured I’d put up shelves to fill the big empty spaces and pile it with games or books or whatever a normal person puts on their shelves.”

“Well what does a non normal person put on their shelves?”

“Youtooz. Way too many to be healthy.”

“I won’t lie, I have a collection too.”

jump #1

Tommy sits on the freezing bathroom stall tile. It looks clean enough to sit on, and he hopes the wet feeling on the back of his leg is actually just his imagination. His bag is over in the corner and his jumper is blocking the awkward vent between the door and the floor that someone might be able to see him through.

The smell of marijuanna that has permeated into the walls of the gender neutral bathroom made his head spin. Tommy couldn’t help but feel slightly bad. What was supposed to be a bathroom for people became a smoke spot. However, it doesn’t stop him from pulling out the crack wire from his bag and hooking it up to his school computer.

He turns the cool glass over in his hands and traces the black mouthpiece. It was almost empty and he didn’t have another 50 to drop. As he places the wires in their appropriate spots he pulls out his phone.

The glass heats up and he takes a hit as he types out a message to his dear friend.

Wilbur (US HISTORY)

can i have a fifty

He knows he won’t respond. It was a dumb thought to even ask him, he fucked up the second he sent the text. Wilbur isn’t dumb. He’ll know it’s for a cart. There’s no way in hell he’d go as far as supplying the boy with drugs.

Wilbur (US HISTORY)

can i have a fifty

I’ll give it to you

after class, ok?

Tommy waits behind after class. Aj’s confused look as he walks out the door is all it takes for his stomach to get queasy again.

jump #2

“Tommy, do you know why I never wear these?”

Tommy, confused, replies no.

“I hate them. I like to think that if I just pretend I don’t need them my eyes will be able to see just fine again. Like a common cold, my eyes will just get over it. But that’s not true, obviously, as we know. You’re not a good student Tommy. You have some serious underlying issues that you’re just self medicating with weed and nicotine and adrenaline rushes. You try to trick yourself into thinking you’re a good student just like I try to trick myself into thinking I don’t need these.” He picks up the glasses before setting them back down. “I don’t know if you’re really all that ‘good’ of a student.”

“I do everything you ask!” Tommy yells. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked. Do you understand how stressful school was for me? Do you understand I had nearly no future in school before this? I was skipping my classes constantly to game and play with my friends. I couldn’t sit still or focus in class ever. Information never made sense. I have found what works for me. One day I’ll be old enough to learn I don’t need it to function. I’ll have options and resources available to get help. I don’t right now though. I have to work with what I have. Something isn’t right up there and weed fixes it. Sorry if you don’t like it but that’s how it is.”

“Tommy, you act like I dont smoke weed myself! I know what it’s like!”

Tommy falls silent. He furrows his brow and contorts his face. “You smoke?”

“Why do you think I gave you that fifty? Why do you think I never actually bust anyone? Tommy, I get it. I did the exact same thing. I still do. The only way I can ever grade all of your shitty homeworks is if I’m high. And I know what it’s like when there isn’t any other option because I didn’t have any. I want to find you what you need.”

“Probably a psych evaluation.” Tommy laughs to himself. “I’m serious, Tommy.”

“Wilbur, I truly appreciate the concern. But “teacher helping me find myself” wasn’t exactly in my life plan. It’s all laid out perfectly, I just have to make it to 18.”

Wilbur stares in disbelief. “Living every day just to make it to eighteen isn’t any way to live. Barely making it through your weekdays just to party on the weekends isn’t healthy.”

“No shit sherlock.”

“I think I will get you a psych evaluation if you keep talking back”

“Alright, fine.”

#poppytwt #problematicmcyt #problematictwt #problematic #problematicfanfics #tombur #poppyblr #ver’s wip poll

[liightbringr]

THIS IS A PERMANENT STARTER/PLOTTING CALL!

Hello, everyone! I hope this post finds you inspired and well! It's been a long time since I've made a post like this, but here lately I've felt very inspired myself. And that goes without saying that it's because of all of you that I'm mutuals with (and even the writers I've seen around that I'm not mutuals with whose joy of the hobby is just as inspiring). While I know that my activity is spotty at best, I'd like to make this post in order to better gauge where we stand in terms of our creative liberties. So with that being said, GIVE THIS POST A LIKE if you would be okay with me making you random starters, random edits, sending in memes, or coming to you for unprompted plotting! I think as writers it's important to know that if we get a brain worm or two for certain plots that we can just come to each other and yell about it like banshees. In liking this post, I am also giving YOU permission to do just the same with this blog. Send me memes galore, throw random plot ideas at me, hit me with a chair--- hit me with feels, I mean, or anything you'd like in regards to our muses. My inbox and DM's are readily available and open to anyone who's interested. Thank you for taking the time to read if you did and I can't wait to see what becomes of our joined creativity! ♥

#ooc. #psa. #personals do not reblog. #ilu guys and i hope you're all having a wonderful day

[skyistheground]

give/kin assign the ISAT gang cassette beasts,,

I DID DO THIS ALREADY HERE but

i didn't explain my choices in that post because orion knows the game so i will explain them here

i gave siffrin scarleteeth because it's previous form, littlered because it's hooded, cat-like (i personally really associate them with red) and most importantly, it has potential. potential for both good and bad. and we all know where siffrin went. scarleteeth is the more monstrous remaster of littlered. if i made a crossover i think that siffrin's tape would remaster into this in a smiliar (energy wise) vibe to act 5 breakdown

i don't think they're fucked up forever though. permanently changed but it can get better

(sorry in advance for no story details beyond this because i don't actually know what a crossover would be like but MAYBE i'll start thinking)

mirabelle got miasmodeus because the first stage, candevil, is one of the two starter beasts in the game. gives me a "chosen one" energy, and candevil (+ the other one. which i will talk about with loop) is said to be really rare. miasmodeus is fun and whimsical which i think fits her outward personality. as a beast, miasmodeus is capable of a good range of attack and support, which reflects her role in fights. it's very cute and she deserves to be cute

southpaw is a boxer which out of all the beasts fits isabeau's fighting style the best. southpaw is the remaster of puppercut, who is described as being very shy and weak, which reminisces me of how isabeau described himself before. changing (let's go transgenders). more confident self who is very charismatic

odile fit triphinx imo because it's slow and powerful. though honestly thinking she could specifically have a bootleg one (what type. i don't know). but bootleg because they are generally stronger and have more/different coverage. also she is cool like that

bonnie gets padpole because it's cute and also eventually remasters into a bigger frog called liligator with huge fists that hurt really bad if they hit someone (for like. an older bonnie). the padpole line is mainly for support moves (is how i used it, anyway. liligator is one of my favorite guys) with occasional damage

loop gets ramtasm. which is one of the final remasters for bansheep, the other starting guy. ramtasm is very ethereal and also has a special type, astral type, which is a starry-universy "element". in sasasap loop's sort of lack of significance wasn't as emphasized so i figured a starter would be ok

#asks #isat spoilers #i was gonna draw for all of them but i got tiredddddd

[miss-ari]

evelyn's curse & philip's self-inflicted glyphs

it's probably a little silly to speculate now, when the finale is just around the corner and i could so easily be proved wrong. but if i'm proved wrong, it means we got more backstory- i love backstory! if i'm right, i get to be smug- and i also love being smug! >:)

after the events of thanks to them, it is all but confirmed that belos/philip's unnaturally long lifespan is at least in part due to his regular consumption of palisman essence

but a neat theory i've seen is that philip first began consuming palismen in this way to mitigate the effects of the final spell/curse that evelyn cast on him

(let's just ignore that the high-res version of this painting seems to give philip the same profile/silhouette as caleb. pretty sure that's just an artistic goof.)

however, i have always been firmly of the opinion that philip was killing witches and stealing their palismen even before his showdown with caleb and evelyn.

now it is probably always going to be up for debate what the chronological order of the hollow mind paintings is. for example, the memory painting here, of philip seeming to lure two witches (with their staves in hand!) into a corner/alley/side street could very easily take place before philip finds his brother in the demon realm, or after

and judging by the length of his beard and ponytail alone, i would normally assume that the painting that features philip consuming a palisman takes place after caleb's murder

however, there a couple details to keep in mind here. for starters, he is still wearing his original mask. and secondly, the memories featured in a person's mindscape are significant. my best guess would be that this was the first time philip destroyed a palisman and discovered the power one can harness by doing so.

at the very least, belos has been consuming their essence since well before lilith and luz encountered him as philip in elsewhere and elsewhen

more than anything though, the giveaway to me is in the memories of philip's first meeting with caleb and evelyn in the demon realm- note his glowing blue eyes

now by the time philip ascends to the throne as emperor belos, we know he has three forms of magic at his disposal:

glyphs

the lifeforce/soul/energy/essence of palismen

the power taught/bestowed by the collector

but this is early days yet! that magical blue glow had to come from somewhere. and well...

hmm.

i've spent a lot of time discussing caleb, evelyn, and philip with @ashanimus and so allow me to piggyback off of her original theory here: that evelyn's curse was to externalize philip's monstrous actions- past, and future.

and even though we see that philip/belos largely maintains his humanoid form from day to day, and has much finer control over this goop than one might expect

it is not a perfect control.

but then we have to wonder, how is he able to control it at all?

philip wittebane is uniquely adept at combining glyphs in extremely complex ways to get his desired results

we know the glyphs on his arm must have some purpose- he would never have cut into himself in this permanent way unless he was sure of the effects. and when he does carve the glyphs directly into his own flesh

he bleeds green.

that isn't human blood, not anymore. that is magical rot and decay, his evil made physically manifest, a warning to anyone who crosses his path.

another layer to my theory lies in the ending scene of philip elsewhere and elsewhen; philip is highly agitated, the glyphs are glowing, and he scrambles on hands and knees to find an intact palisman to crack apart. and then, he very noticeably calms down. and even in present day with the collector's magic to call his own, belos is still consuming palismen on the regular.

rather than consuming palismen as a direct means of keep evelyn's curse at bay, as some have speculated, i'd like to believe that palisman essence gives his magic- his glyphs- a noticeable power boost.

and he would then create yet another vicious cycle for himself.

philip would need to keep destroying palismen without end- not only to keep himself preserved well past his expiration date, but in order to maintain the strength of these containment glyphs. and in doing so, he would increase the effects of this curse in turn.

#the owl house #philip wittebane #evelyn clawthorne #wittebabbling

[hymemena]

The Quarry Sentence Starters

Feel free to change pronouns as necessary, and remember to specify muse for multimuse blogs.

CW: Swearing, violence, injury, animal attack mention, suggestive

—

"Swarm of bears?"

"Fine… Okay. Once again, -muse- puts themself in mortal danger for the sake of their 'work friends.'"

"Just… How can you be so certain?"

"If I let my conscience slow me down, now, everything gets a lot worse for everyone. Believe me."

"Ah-ah, you'll have it when I say you'll have it."

"Alright, huddle up boys, this is how we're gonna do this."

"There's a half naked girl/boy waiting for you back there, -name-, what are you doing?"

"It was… It was okay."

"They seemed pretty insistent we stay in the lodge."

"I'm just desperate to stay afloat in a world where everyone wants to be different."

"Sometimes things just don't make sense."

"Fuck!"

"Son of a binky-bonky!"

"Well, at least I don't look and smell like a butt."

"Podcast, huh?"

"Family is very important."

"Does this look like the Goddamn Harbinger Motel to you?!"

"Maybe they don't check their voicemail."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I saw it online."

"I don't know! This was my first cop!"

"You're a horrible person."

"You shot me?! I'm telling mom!"

"You stabbed me. That really hurt."

"Goodbye, cruel world! The final curtain is calling and there's no time for an encore…"

"Who should we call?"

"Ninety-one one."

"You mean nine-one-one? Who says ninety-one-one?"

"Okay, well, just because you're using 'logic' to 'make sense' doesn't mean that I'm totally into it."

"Hey, you're singing off-key."

"We are being hunted by literal monsters and this is what scares you?!"

"Oh my God. You are so childish."

"Yeah, if they made a podcast called 'How To Look And Smell Like A Butt.'"

"-Muse-, what's your position?"

"Uhm… Standing?"

"I just can't wait to see who they choose to play me. In the movie about how brave I am."

"Maybe you should have asked them out on a date?"

"Damn it! I missed my shot!"

"P-A-R-T… Why the fuck not?"

"Check out my huge melons!"

"There's been a horrible accident--Attack. Some stuff's bad here."

"I'm not gonna fuck a bear."

"Sorry!"

"Why didn't you tell me there was something out there?!"

"I don't know what I saw!"

"Oh my God, -Muse-, you won't believe this! It's… Nothing."

"Yeah, well… Worse things have happened this summer."

"You beefed it."

"Ah, not this time, motherfucker!"

"And what? Risk another run-in with Captain Deliverance?"

"Well, that bodes ill!"

"Whoa, watch your step!"

"Why'd you do that?"

"You told me to!"

"That was a bad idea."

"Huh. Rude."

"They get kinda hot when they're bossy, huh?"

"I'm always hot, pencil dick."

"It's my beer-dar. Helps me dar for beers."

"It's not a secret room! It's just hidden… By stuff…"

"Yeah, that's what a secret is!"

"I haven't ever been stabbed before."

"Why is there what I can only hope is strawberry jelly on your face?"

"Oh, yeah, no. I'm pretty sure it's blood."

"You can't hide from me in my own house, fucker!"

"You're a fucker!"

""Oh, so now I'm blind, too, you motherfucker!"

"Why does everyone blame everything on bears?"

"Okay, so for the sake of argument, what if that 'bear' that cut our phone line and just cut out all the power-- What if that bear is waiting for us out in the hallway?"

"What's wrong with this thing? It's just closing!"

"Sorry, bro!"

"Double skill!"

"Ow! Mother… Hubbard!"

"No… They're funny!"

"Moment's gone."

"…But not forgotten."

"No… -Muse-… Don't do it… Stop…"

"Herd of bears."

"Yeah, I've heard of bears."

"I can try to encourage them."

"Go for it! You guys can do it! --it's not working."

"You know that's kind of a movie-only thing, right?"

"I mean, you bang someone on the head you're more likely to kill them or leave them with permanent brain damage… Not just 'knock 'em out.'"

#roleplay memes #rp memes #rp starters #writing prompts #roleplay starters #sentence starters #dialogue starters #dialogue prompts #dialogue rp meme #dialogue roleplay meme #sentence rp meme #sentence prompts #video game rp meme #video game roleplay meme #video game roleplay starters #video game rp starters

[1986harrington]

Day 11: Caught in the Rain

You were soaked, your summer dress clinging to your chest and hips and legs, cardigan slipping from your shoulder with the weight of the water it had absorbed. You were glaring up at him, eyes scrunched to keep the rain from dripping into your eyes from the ends of your long lashes, your nose wrinkling in the process. Even when you were mad, Steve thought you looked absolutely adorable, but he knew better than to point that out right now. "You're gonna have to help me out here, baby. I honestly don't know what issue is-" "Nancy." You stated, and you instantly felt like a weight had been lifted at finally saying it outloud.

"Well this is just fantastic," Steve groaned, palms coming down on the steering wheel as he slumped into his seat, defeated.

You were sat beside him, arms folded across your chest and eyes cast to the side, staring out the passenger window as streams of rain blurred your view.

Steve's car had started making a very heavy and very concerning clunking noise about 5 days ago, and you had warned him various times that he needed to get it checked.

"Says the girl with only one wiper and a check engine light that's permanently illuminated." He'd joked at the time, and you'd pretended not to be a little offended.

Tonight, the clunking had started on the way to the Wheeler's house, and once again Steve had ignored your offer to let you drive them in your car. Really, you had an alterior motive besides the clunking, which was to be in charge of the driving so that once you'd had quite enough of Nancy Wheeler making eyes at your boyfriend, you could up and leave.

Instead, you'd had to fake a headache and ask Steve to drive you home.

Now? Now you were entirely fed up, annoyed and stranded with your boyfriend who was infuriatingly obvlious to the whole damn thing.

"What? Nothing to say, sweetheart? No smart ass comment? No 'I told you so'?"

"Nope." You replied flatly, a slightly sardonic pop of the 'p' as you continued to deliberately not look at him.

"Aw c'mon, what's up? You've been weird with me all night."

"I haven't been weird."

"Yes, you have. You won't even look at me, for starters."

You wanted to tell him you didn't need to look at him because you had his stupidly handsome face committed to memory at this point, but it was too close to compliment that you didn't feel like giving.

"Yeah well, I've seen you every day for the last 8 months. I know what you look like."

"Baby-"

"Don't baby me whilst we're stuck in the middle of nowhere, broken down in the middle of the night."

"Baby-" Steve tried again, and this time you turned to face him and fixed him with a glare that indicated he should choose his next words carefully.

He didn't.

"You know it's only like 9.45 and we're 15 minutes from Main Street?" He was laughing as he said it, but you remained thoroughly unamused.

"Do you even know why I'm upset?"

"I thought you said you weren't upset?"

"I lied. Sue me."

You raised a brow at him, encouraging him to take a guess at what the problem was.

"Is it because I didn't listen to you about the clunking? Or because I said your car was a hunk of junk and we shouldn't take it because it would end up breaking down and stranding us at the side of the-hey!"

He wasn't even finished his sentence when you opened the door, climbing out into the rain and slamming it closed behind you without a word.

"What the-, hey!" He called, clambering out the driver's side door after you.

"Baby, what the hell? Where are you going? Come back!"

The rain was loud as it bounched off the road around you both, the sound rushing in your ears and blurring Steve's voice.

You'd made it maybe 10 feet when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, but you pulled it free of his hold and spun to face him.

"Are you really that oblivious, Steve?" You yelled, mostly to be heard over the sound of the rain but also because you were really pissed off.

He let out an exasperated laugh, head dropping back briefly before his eyes came back to meet yours.

You were soaked, your summer dress clinging to your chest and hips and legs, cardigan slipping from your shoulder with the weight of the water it had absorbed. You were glaring up at him, eyes scrunched to keep the rain from dripping into your eyes from the ends of your long lashes, your nose wrinkling in the process.

Even when you were mad, Steve thought you looked absolutely adorable, but he knew better than to point that out right now.

"You're gonna have to help me out here, baby. I honestly don't know what issue is-"

"Nancy." You stated, and you instantly felt like a weight had been lifted at finally saying it outloud.

"Na- Nancy?"

You nodded wordlessly, eyes blinking away rain drops.

"What's Nancy got to with any of this?"

"I don't know, it's just - ever since she and Jonathon broke up, it's like she's looking at you differently."

"Differently, how?"

"I don't know! Wistfully. Longingly. Regretfully. The way a girl looks at a boy when she's thinking that maybe she made a mistake letting him go. That maybe he's the most incredible and selfless boy she's ever met. The love of her life, even."

Steve just looked at you, totally bewlildered.

"She wants you back, Steve. I can see it."

"Baby, no." He said, a solemn and sincere shake of his head, wet hair clinging to his neck and forehead, rain dripping for the ends of his lashes and nose. He stepped closer and this time you let him. His hands slid into place against your face, palms pressed to your cheek and the curve of your jaw, thumbs brushing your cheek bone and you felt your lip quiver as he looked down into your eyes.

"It's not like that. I promise you. And hey, even if she did want to give things another shot, I'm not interested."

"But Steve, you were in love with the girl for years. That doesn't just go away."

"You're right. I'm always gonna care about what happens to Nancy. I'm always gonna want her to be safe and happy, and to be there for her as a friend if she needs me. We've all been through too much shit together, you included. But fuck, I'm not in love with her anymore. Only you."

You don't when or how it happened, but your hands wrapped around his forearms, clinging on for dear life to the boy in front of you.

"It's just a lot, competing with someone's first love."

"I get that, I do. I mean, fuck, even just the thought of you with anyone else makes me crazy. So if there's any doubt in your mind at all, I wanna get rid of it. Whatever it takes, until you know for certain that I'm all in with you, no one else."

Your eyes were fixed on his, hot tears spilling over your lashline and stremaing down your face along with the rain. You nodded, a jagged breath escaping as you huffed out a relieved laugh, eyes falling closed as you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down toward you.

You don't know how long you both stood there, in the middle of the road, wet clothes clinging to your bodies, mouths sliding hot and messily together as the rain continued to pour down you both. It was only when another car finally passed, headlights illuminating you, horn blaring as the tyres sent a spray of surface water over you both that you pulled apart and headed to the backseat to wait it out together.

#1986harrington’s mystery promptober 🎃 #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington

[ancicntforged]

An eye for an eye makes the world go blind.

🔴Indie Multi-Muse Blog. 🔴Semi-Selective 🔴Featuring Muses from the Cthulhu Mythos, Honkai Series and many more. 🔴Plenty o' memes, edits, musings and shitposts. 🔴Crossover, AU & OC Friendly. 🔴Mun is 25. 🔴Written by Joy Boy.

「Home || Rules || Muses ||

Permanent Starter Call || Promo」

Mobile Links: Rules

Glossary of Terms often used on the Blog:

Each of the phrases will have a link that leads to a page on the wiki.

Vacosian: Vacosians are a near-extinct natural born species of Warriors that made their home in the Ultimate Void, on planet Voidal. A majority of the race was exterminated by the God of Destruction Cerveze, however a handful managed to survive, rendering the race close to extinction. They play a cental role in the Cyverse metaseries, where it is revealed that Ruby and Blair are Vacosians who were sent to Remnant. The best way to describe a Vacosian is to think of them as Outer Gods in humanoid forms. Sometimes they have tails and horns too, but it depends from individual to individual.

Dracontine: Dracontines are a natural born species of highly adaptive warriors that were known among the earliest race to have draconic roots, if not, the earliest known trace that had direct ancestry from Primordial Dragons, before the subspecies division of draconic races had occurred. The Dracontines have been relatively under the radar for a good while after the Draconomachy, in which the total population of the Dracontines took a steep decline. However, at present time, the Dracontine race seem to sit very comfortably, with replenished populations, both in Universe 1 and 12, each residing in their own version of Planet Dracorex on both Universes.

Super Vacosian: Super Vacosian, occasionally known as Ascended Warrior, is a legendary transformation unique to the Vacosian race of both the first and 12th universes. It is the signature transformation of the Vacosians relocated to Remnant, all of whom have been able to achieve the transformation, but was famously first awakened by Ruby Rose during her battle with the evil Fall Maiden, Cinder Fall.

Explanation: It's why some muses have multiple FCs. On that note, they're not shapeshifters, but rather think of it like Super Saiyan, just changing hair & eye colors.

Universal Government/Marines: The Universal Government is an universal regime which has ruled the universe for over 5'000 years, since it was founded by an alliance of 200 different planets. It has since vastly grown in influence and now spans across more than 900 of the universe’s civilized planets.God-Key: God Key (or Grand Key/Divine Key when translated) are ten tools/weapons created by Azathoth, that when brought together, would allow entrance into her domain and  ████,  while  granting each of the 10 wielders  ██████.

Remnant Dragon Balls: The Remnant Dragon Balls are wish orbs created by the Guardian of Remnant, Kami and were later enhanced upon request by said creator after Ruby asked her for an upgrade. These balls are mainly used on Remnant and were the first type of Dragon Balls used in the metaseries. They have played a major role and impact in the series, being used by a variety of characters, including main protagonist Ruby.

Cosmology: As previously mentioned, the Cyverse is a combination of several other verses (Cthulhu Mythos, RWBY, Dragon Ball Metaseries & the SCP Loredom) with my own unique twist to them, which combines them rather well if I dare say so myself. The whole thing started as a RP Blog on tumblr, known as phantxmthief, and has gathered over 23'500 followers as of this writing. Furthermore, people seem to really love the characters in it and love to know more about the Cyverse’s primary protagonist’s life; Which is Ruby Rose and some others peeps, but without further ado, here we go!

Divine Hierarchy of Universe 12 Chart

#pinned #dont rb

[cdreamblog]

APRIL 26th 2020

Our Beginning

This is it, the start! This is going to be our new home, the manhunts are fun but they aren't permanent. I took a few quick pictures of the smp before we started settling in. The one on top is my favorite, I think it should be the banner.

Once we did get to work, I forgot to take any pictures, George promised he would take some only if I made the profile of this account him for a month. Also, I don't know what that idiot did to the camera, but all the photos look a little weird. It's okay though they'll improve with time and the server.

These were the best three I could choose...

We made a home and some starter farms so not too bad. It was nice to just spend time with my friends. I have a few plans; I think we should have a nice nether portal and pathway.

Sapnap asked me what we should call the server and I'm not sure. I don't know what we're going to call this server, but I think for now our server is good enough.

#:] update #:] u1 #dreblr

[bodyswapmischief]

Swapping Sentences: Fit for Trial

(Hello, everybody! I hope you all like this story. It's one of a two part collaboration with the incredible @swap-meet. His part should be up within the coming day so, be on the look out. Without further to do here we go...)

I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't know how it got to that point. But, I hated my life. I was trapped in a feeder - feedee relationship.

All I knew was that I never wanted that for my life. I missed being fit. Being able to do things I couldn't anymore. I missed going to work ... instead of sitting at home, watching tv and eating non stop. I misssd my old life. But over the course of the past 5 years, I've become just some kinky abomination for my boyfriend.

Mark was perfect at the start. He was very loving and always wanted to take me out to eat for our dates. It started with him encouraging me to eat little more. And once I moved in, he wanted me to stop going to the gym so, we could spend more time together. Before I knew it I had a starter gut.

That's when he said he had a feeder kink. But, I was so in love with him and how he treated me. I let him get me fat. As time went on, however; he becoming less loving. Eventually, he only saw me as a weird sex object. I became way fatter than I wanted. I told him I wanted to stop but he only became more aggressive. Telling me that one day he'll make me immobile. The worst part is I couldn't leave him. I was tied to him emotionally, socially, and financially.

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

So, I did something crazy. I downloaded a new app called Mutual Swap. I knew nobody was gonna wanna be in my fat body, so I used an old picture of myself ... from before I started dating Mark. I felt bad about lying. But, it wasn't like I planned on making the swap permanent ... I just needed a break.

Then I met Jordan, through the app. His profile picture was incredibly hot. The way he drank in luxury. The way he leaned back, showing off his body. He had the life I wanted. And, I couldn't believe he wanted to swap bodies with me. But, to be fair, he was looking at an old picture of me. I didn't get my hopes up, though.

You see, Mutual Swaps has a safety feature that allows any of the people involved to end a swap earlier than the agreed upon time. So, I had tried swaping bodies before, through the app. But, as soon as someone saw they were in my real body, they swapped back, immediately. So with Jordan I thought, Fuck it. It's still worth a try. Even a second in some else's body was worth it.

I got comfortable and sat up in bed. And pushed the button, agreeing to the swap. I waited a few seconds. Then I saw that he also confirmed. My vision went black.

As, I woke up. I looked around and I was in a beautiful hotel. My new body was perfect. I couldn't wait to have some fun. A few minutes passed and I was surprised that Jordan hasn't forced us to swap back. I thought I got lucky, with an an understanding guy. Until, there was a big bang at the door. The door cracks open, as police swarm my room. At that moment, I realized why he didn't swap back. He didn't want to go to jail.

"Jordan Rogers you are under arrest." They proceeded to handcuff me. They read me my rights. But, I tried to explain the situation, to them. I begged them to search the phone. However, the asshole set a timer to digitally fry it. Everything was scrubbed off the phone, including the app and all our talks of setting up the body swap.

Jordan obviously pissed them off. They are treating me like I'm one of the worst people on earth. They keep telling me I'm going away for the rest of my life. Everytime I try to tell them the truth, about the body swap ... I get roughed up. They think I'm trying to build an insanity case. But, I just want my body back. I can't survive prison. I don't even know the crimes I'm paying for, but they can't be good. My trail is gonna start next month. So, I guess that is when I'll learn the crimes I'm being made to pay. Now, I'm just sitting in a jail cell wishing I never downloaded that app, in the first place.

#body #swap #mischief #transformation #tf #male #mutual swaps #swap-meet #swap meet #twisted swap #fat to fit #story

[jynxd]

I thought you could love me, accept me, even though I am different. But you have changed too. So here's to the new us.

An independent, selective Canon divergent Jinx from Arcane blog written and cherished by Bli. (Also including Silco and Ekko)

heavily affiliated with @hexcoremagician, @ferinehuntress, @shimmerbeasts

Graphics and Banners made by : @marsrpresources

General information: Rules | Jinx/verses | Ekko/verses | Silco/verses

Headcanons: Jinx (Overview) | Silco (Overview) | Ekko (Overview) RP: Permanent Starter call | Memes Other blog: Multimuse blog

Follows shimmerbeasts Zaun Lore

For the convenience of those on mobile I will put the rules here!

ABOUT THE MUN:

18 + Mutuals only

Typically writes in paras-novelias

They/Them Pronouns

activity can range from high to low

mature themes might occur on this blog

Mun (30) and muse(s) are of age.

OCS:

I will work with OC’S however, I do ask that the OC be developed enough when I am getting idea of them. I don’t write to come up with your characters for you, so please know your muse! If your about’s have all the information needed, that’s awesome. If you don’t have any of this supplied, I mostly likely will not work with you.

AUS/Crossovers:

As someone who loves to write AU’s I will gladly do them! In fact I find AU’s more hella fun! Please feel free to throw any and all ideas my way!

There are/will be cross over verses, so I am completely open to rping cross overs! If it’s a fandom I am unfamiliar with that might require work, but otherwise I’m down for it

Plotting/messaging:

I use ASKS only for rp sake, so if you want to plot with me send me an IM. I am however not opposed to Ice breakers. So If neither of feel like plotting (which most likely will be mentioned in pms) you can send an ask my way and start from there!

Reblogging:

Unless you are an active participant in ongoing threads, DO NOT reblog any rp posts! 

If I reblog memes, please try to reblog it from its original source material to keep my activity clean. (I won’t say anything if you don’t but it would be greatly appreciated.)

Metagaming:

Remember, even you have foreknowledge, your muse does not! Don’t bring knowledge they shouldn’t know into threads.

Don’t try to control what my character says and/or does. 

Replies:

The muse can be highly selective depending on mood, so if he is a certain mood, he will reply to what he is feeling. OR WHAT IM FEELING. 

There a select few that will almost always get a response first, don’t take this personally, it’s just how the muse can be! (There is a select few people who are going to take complete importance!)

I am not a fast roleplayer, so I replies may sit in my drafts for days to weeks. But eventually they will be responded to.

If a thread is dropped, I typically won’t say anything especially if I’m not feeling it.

If I haven’t responded in a while, you can remind me once, but don’t spam me with reminders

Multiple threads are completely okay!

Relationships:

I am OKAY with pre-established ships but it has to be plotted out or discussed.

Multi-ship friendly and even willingly ship OT3’s

Smut CAN be an option, but it will most likely not be written due preference of the mun unless heavily plotted.

#{ Cats Out of the Bag | OOC } #{ Self Promotion }