#// I will have to update the pinned post a bit more. :p

[candyredappledragon]

//ooc post

I LOVE TUMBLR MOBILE NOT LETTING ME EDIT DRAFTS. PEAK APP. :)))))) I have to use my other tablet for the browser version since I'm at work. 😞😞😞

Anyway, on that note! Thank you all for being patient with me and my replies on asks. I promise I'm trying to get to them but I try to make it work and line up. 😔

So if you are wondering what happened to it. Don't worry I got it. I just gotta draw up sketches then finish the doodles. I also plan on showing Kieran's team and a little ol event regarding the epilogue coming out real soon ( it would be a few days after ). 👀 It is going to be an experiment! (:

Kieran's team is going to be very interesting too. I will try to work on a sheet or something. Also!!! If you guys are okay I can reblog meme asks but!!! They would mostly be text replies unless I feel like drawing for it!

It is up to you! Yes you, the viewer!

If you have any more questions regarding the blog or anything else related to it please do let me know! 🎉

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: double chapters when I know I shouldn't.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“We got a suite available, Amalia?” The man, the owner of this casino, Bucky, asks as he approaches the glass counter of the hotel lobby. You barely keep up as your surroundings smear and your head spins. Everything’s happening so fast. 

“Mr. Barnes,” the woman on the other side greets as she nears the slim monitor, “I think we should.” She glances at him, then your sister as she blathers drunkenly in his arms, “having a good night?” 

“Oh, just some friends in the city for a night,” he lies easily, “she got a bit carried away so we’ll let her sleep it off.” 

You chew your lip as you stand just behind him. Your stomach lurches as your eyes wander around the fine decor. It’s all out of your price range. Again, your brain is a beat behind.  

“Doll, would you get that?” He asks as the desk agent holds out a small folder. 

“Oh, yeah, er,” you rush up to take the room keys, “sorry.” 

“No problem, just got my hands full,” he scoffs, “Amalia, have a good night. Hopefully you don’t get anyone too rowdy.” 

“Thank you, sir, you too,” she preens after him as he heads off across the lobby. 

Once more you’re on his heels as he struts toward the elevators. You catch up to him and force the frog from your throat, “uh, sir, Bucky?” You stammer, “I don’t think... I can afford--” 

“Doll, don’t worry about all that. It's on the house,” he stops before the elevator and stares at the golden doors, “I’m not some sort of grifter. I offered, I’m not gonna squeeze ya. What’s the room number?” 

“Er, oh,” you open the little folder, “720.” 

“Right, hit the button,” he nods before him. 

“Sorry,” you cringe again. You’re so behind. It must be so obvious to him how lost you are. Maybe that’s why he noticed you. He feels bad that someone so pathetic could exist. 

You press the up button and the doors open. He nods you ahead of him and you step into the box. The walls are transparent and you can see outside along the river. He gets in and comes to stand parallel with you as you avoid looking through the glass. 

“Seven,” he says. 

You make another mousy noise and tap the button. You recoil, clutching your hands over your chest, and stare at the doors. As the elevator rises, you feel a wave of head rush, and you sway just a little. You gulp and widen your eyes. 

“Not a fan of heights?” He asks as the box stops sharply and the doors ding and open. 

“Not really,” you mutter. 

He waits for you to exit first and you eagerly do. He follows as you look back and forth between the doors, searching out the number to match the folder. 720, right at the end. You fumble and it takes three tries to swipe the card correctly.  

Finally, the door opens and you push it inward, holding it as you flatten yourself to the wall to let him through. He enters without hesitation. For a moment, you wonder what it must be like to be so sure and so comfortable in a place like this. To have this be your normal.

You let go of the door and trail him further inside. The room is huge. Not just one room, but two. The front room is closed off by a pair of doors, painted white with fine spirals etched into the wood. You flit ahead of Bucky to slide them open and reveal the bedroom. He takes your sister to the bed and lays her down as she lets out a bubbly belch. 

“Sorry,” you apologise on her behalf as you hover in the door. 

“She’s her own person,” he stands back, “you need anything, call down to the desk. They’ll be happy to get you whatever. Oh, and, should probably have some water ready for the morning. She’s gonna be feeling this.” 

“Right,” you push your lip out then quickly fix your face, “thank you. I...” 

“Checkouts at eleven but I’ll tell Amalia to mark you down for a late departure,” he comes towards you slowly. 

“Oh, we won’t stay that long,” you assure him and scrape your palms together. 

“Ah, you got somewhere to be? Work? Gonna be a long day after tonight.” 

“No, I... I don’t...” your eyes drift to the wall. Again, you can’t help but admire the ivory paint and the crystal lamp and tall posts of the bed. “I don’t... have a job.” 

“Mm, tough out there,” he says, “just gotta find the right thing, huh?” 

You want to fold into nothing. This man, a millionaire at least, who owns this whole place, is telling you you’ll find something one day. Just like your mom does when you melt down over another rejection. Ugh. 

“Thanks, yeah,” you take a heavy breath. 

“You’re tired,” he surprises you as he caresses your sleeve, “I’m not gonna keep you up. You get some sleep, alright?” 

You nod and reach to scratch your neck, shifting away from his reach. He’s so much bigger than you that for a moment your stomach is crawling, as the thought occurs of how much control he really has. Not just because of who he is. 

“Good night, doll,” he purrs and brushes by you. 

You stay as you are, staring at your sister, muttering to herself. Why does she have to do this? You could be sleeping in your own bed but instead you’re here, burning in shame and pity. You turn as you hear him near the door. 

“Night,” you offer up. 

He stops and turns back, sending you a wink, “there’s a hot tub in here so... might enjoy the room at least.” 

You force a smile though your stress likely makes it more a grimace. He spins and leaves you, the door shutting with a click and releasing you to your self-reproach. You drop your head in your hands and huff. You are leaving the minute your sister wakes up. You never want to see that man again. You just pray he forgets you just as quickly as you want to forget this whole night. 

🃏

You hardly sleep. Your sister’s drunken snoring keeps you from relaxing for more than twenty minutes at a time, not to mention how unsettled you are. You hate sleeping in new places but moreso you hate that even on a night out, after all the assurance that you could just enjoy yourself, that you are once more a burden for someone else. 

You get up just after six. You rub your forehead as you go out into the front room and look over the amenities. There’s a fancy coffee maker with pods and a mini fridge with a glass door. You take out a bottle of water to leave by the bed for Roxie then return to figure out the coffee. You don’t often have any but your head is pounding. 

You sit down and sneer at the bitterness. Did you make it right? You never liked the taste so you can’t tell. You finish the cup if only for the soothing warmth. 

At seven, you get up to check on Roxie again. She’s still out like a light. Come on! You want to go. 

You rinse the mug in the sink as best you can and return it to the shelf. There’s a knock on the door. You flinch and reluctantly tread down to the hall. You peep through the hole as you fix your clothing. You push down the handle slowly to greet the woman with the cart. 

The golden embroidery on her white blouse marks her as an employee and she beams a smile in your direction. It’s too early for that amount of cheer. She has her hands on the cart, angling it towards the door. 

“Morning, miss, breakfast, complements of Mr. Barnes,” she declares, “where can I put it?” 

“Um,” you back up slowly, “inside... uh, by the table, I guess.” 

She rolls the cart in and asks if you need anything else before she leaves. You shake your head. There’s more than enough there for you and Roxie. If she can even stomach any of it. You’ve seen the way she is after her nights out. 

You sit and stare at the buffet of food before you. Fresh fruit, waffles, pancakes, french toast, bacon, eggs... everything and more. Just another favour to feel bad for. 

As you look over it all, you notice a note, nestled between the glasses beside the pitcher of orange juice. You take it. That must be the bill. You unfold it and read the slanted capitals hand-written across the casino-branded page. 

‘Good Morning, Doll,  

Enjoy breakfast on me. 

B. Barnes’ 

Under his name, is a sharp zigzag of the same black ink, a post script below. 

‘PS. If you’re still looking for a job, call me.’ 

You nearly drop the paper. What? You stare at the digits of his phone number and slowly lower your hand to your lap. This can’t be real. Could you really work at a casino? Would you be a dealer? Or maybe you’d be more suited to a cleaner, somewhere you can be out of the way. 

A long groan interrupts your inner turmoil. You fold the paper and tuck it away. It’s something. You’ll have to just figure out later what. 

“Coffee,” Roxie grumbles as she appears in the doorframe, gripping her skull. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you get up and go to the machine. You grab a random pod and shove it into the top. 

“Where... how’d we get here?” She sits heavily and reaches for a piece of bacon. 

“Um, you... you were really drunk so...” 

“How the hell did you get us a room? Wait. Did we win? Blackjack?” She bites into the greasy strip and moans. “Or... I didn’t sleep with that guy, did I?” 

“Erm,” you frown, thinking for a moment before you realise she must mean that Sam guy. “No...” 

You don’t explain. You don’t know how. Oh yeah, you were such a disaster that the owner noticed and didn’t kick us out. Actually, he let us stay in an overpriced suite because... you don’t know. 

“He must be loaded if he’s handing out hotel rooms,” she scoffs as she continues on in her assumption. You don’t correct her. It doesn’t matter. “Coffee,” she snaps her fingers as the grind quiets. 

You bring her the mug and she adds too many packets of sugar before she tastes it. You hide the paper in your cardigan pocket and search for your purse. You fish your watch out of it and put it around your wrist checking the time. 

“We should head out before nine,” you say. 

“Why?” She scoffs. “Ugh, what’s the bath like in this place? I could use a soak.” 

“Mom’s going to be worried.” 

“Nah, she knows I’ll get you back,” she waves you off and stands.  

She walks slowly, rubbing her temples as she sips from the cup, and examines the hotel room. She dips into the bathroom and the light flicks on. You hear her turning the faucet and shifting things around.  

You play with the zipper of your purse. You reach inside and pull out your phone. You get up to grab the key folder and enter the wifi code into your outdated model. It takes far too long to connect. You type into the search of your browser, ‘Bucky Barnes’. 

Almost at once, an image of the very man who carried Roxie into this room appears. It’s familiar. You tap it and it opens up a local news story. That makes sense. He’s younger, his hair is shorter. You remember when the casino changed hands and was renovated all those years ago. It was big news. 

Hm. Not just rich, famous, at least to a degree. It means he has a lot more going on than two disorderly girls at his casino. He’ll forget. You just hope you can too. 

Roxie comes back in a robe and put her mug on the table, “make me another. I’m gonna try those jets.” 

She spins away and you stare at her empty cup. How can she not care about anything? Does she not realise that she ruined the night? That she made a fool of both of you? No, she just sees shiny things and forgets all about her own behaviour. 

Well, you’re not like her. You don’t like being a burden or asking for things or living on someone else’s affection. You look down and feel along your pocket, the slip of paper firm through the fabric. You could clean a few hotel toilets for a buck. It’s not like you have much else going on. 

[radioapplerevue]

Radioapple Fic Recs #2

I'm finally getting around to updating my fic recs, and I decided that it would get a bit too unwieldy to just keep adding on to the original post. So, from now on I'll be putting them into different parts and then linking them in an archive post, which I will pin on my blog. For now, my first post of recs can be found here.

There are also a bunch of unfinished fics that I have been keeping an eye on that I haven't read yet because they are fairly early on and their tags say something along the lines of "it gets worse before it gets better" haha. There are enough fics grinding my heart into dust at the moment, but just know that I am seeing those chapter counts go up. I'm Watching You.

Now, onto the recs!

Home Stretch by @tarmairons (mature)

Welcome to the most convoluted game of 20 questions I've ever seen. I love the slow, purposeful approach to showing how Lucifer and Alastor's relationship is shifting and merging to not only accommodate each other, but also tie them closer together. This is an entire fic of them attempting to communicate and really, honestly trying even if neither of them are sure of what the hell they're doing. And, of course, I love when fics really take the time to explore how Alastor's asexuality (and lack of experience with intimacy in general) would affect his approach and behavior when it comes to sex with Lucifer -- and also how Lucifer learns to handle Alastor in a way that meets his needs, even if the things Alastor needs are not what Lucifer's used to.

2. To Be The Perfect Angel, Some Sin Must Be Done by @hismercytomyjustice (ratings vary by part)

This is a series I've really super been enjoying, largely because it's just fun. Don't get me wrong, the explicit parts are hot too, but it's fucking funny and there's just such an enjoyable push and pull dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer here, where each give as good as they get and actually end up... maybe.... enjoying it? Whoops? And oh shit here comes feelings, where did those come from. And as always, I enjoy seeing how Alastor's asexuality is handled here, with his discomfort with making decisions or taking the lead in bed causing them to develop a dynamic where Lucifer makes all the calls, and Alastor makes the terrifying choice to trust him with his own body, pleasure, and safety. Plus, excellent use of the shadow here. Having the shadow play a significant role in a fic is always one of my favorite things, and I am also very here for shadow fucking at all times.

3. somewhere down the line by kj_crwn (explicit)

This is one of the "Alastor and Lucifer meet in the living world first" fics. I love Lucifer basically just coming up to the living world to be the biggest nuisance to Alastor he could possibly be, but whoops, I guess Alastor's into that. There's a lot of murder, a lot of two assholes trying to drive each other nuts (and succeeding), a lot of sexual tension, and a lot of said assholes being really, really bad at feelings. I particularly enjoy what happens from the time of Alastor's death up to the conclusion of the fic, and the way they have to come to grips with what their relationship is now, what it could be, and what they want it to be.

4. T is for Tax Evasion by @radiaurapple (teen and up)

This is a brand new fic, but my goodness I loved it immediately. I loved the take on Heaven's fucked up bureaucracy, I loved Lucifer's panic, guilt and weariness, and I love how God is a fucking dick. It's such an interesting concept that is explored through Lucifer's slowly crumbling psyche as the knowledge he's going to lose Alastor becomes more and more certain. Or is it? There are few things I love more than pre-emptive grief and utter desperation, and the emotional payoff is just so good. I would have loved to have seen more of the fallout, but regardless, this is one that I'll definitely be thinking about for a while.

5. I Will Dance Divine by @rahabs (mature)

This fic caught my attention immediately. A large part of is exploring Alastor and Lucifer's relationship through dance, and the first chapter is immediately gripping. There's such an immediate magnetism to them, as well as the clash between the performance they are putting on and the quiet battle they are having with each other. It made me so look forward to seeing where it goes. So far it seems to be a slow, but very thorough burn, with the fic taking its time to really let them come together naturally, and learn about each other in tantalizing pieces. I dearly hope it is continued as I want to see more, but what there is already is also a wonderful read.

6. Muzzle for My Lover by sabbathgoat (explicit)

This is a smutty one-shot, but it has one of my favorite depictions of a sexual dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer in anything. There's such a deep undercurrent of trust here, a trust that has been hard-earned over years. Lucifer's handling of Alastor, knowledge of his fluctuating boundaries and internal battles when it comes to his own body and desires, combined with his intense love and tenderness towards him just bleeds through the entire fic. I would happily read a several chapter story with them just lying there cuddling and doing nothing else if it was written with this same weight. It's one of those cases where you don't need to be told how in love they are, because it's impossible to not feel it.

7. Stolen Moments by @mothballmilkshake (ratings vary by part)

This series is quite the rollercoaster! Alastor and Lucifer's relationship in it hits some great highs and also some serious lows, because they are both so so bad at this oh my god. I like that it's from Alastor's POV, because I feel like we don't get that very often, particularly in the longer fics. And I also like that it just shows us what an absolute fucking disaster he is, haha. The continuing plot line regarding Alastor's deal is interesting and groundwork is being laid for some serious shit to go down later on. We'll have to see if Lucifer and Alastor's foundation has been built strong enough by then to not crumble under the pressure. But hey, after all they've gone through, I believe in them (.....mostly).

8. Hope Against Hope by OrlesianHat (explicit)

I don't tend to be into non-canon AUs, but I found I enjoyed this one quite a lot. Lucifer is being sent on a blind date, and the person he meets isn't exactly what he expected... or is he? There's no murder involved so automatically the fic is much gentler than canon would be, particularly with Alastor, but a while after reading it I had to go digging to find it again because something about it stuck with me. I love Alastor's unrepentant selfishness, and Lucifer's long-suffering mood of 'these are things I really should not be okay with but apparently I'm okay with them because I'm still here'. If you're looking for something a little softer after all the angsty cliffhangers we get in other fics (the angsty cliffhanger in this one has been resolved, thank you), then this might be for you.

[bryhoney]

Recognisance pt. 1

This is literally my first post, please go easy on me lmao - the slowest of slow burns between AdoptedWalker!Reader x Keegan P. Russ. TW: Kidnapping and Torture. Set two years after the events of COD Ghosts.

On AO3! Semi-Regular updates :)

This has barely been proofed - so, sorry in advance!

Pt.2

"NO!"

It's a man's voice, you don't recognise it. He sounds panicked, his voice is ragged and hoarse. His scream grows louder and louder until it's a deafening ring and-

You jolt awake, crying out in pain. Every part of your body hurts and the ringing in your ears is agony. 

Your chest feels tight as you try to orientate yourself, you're in a room you don't recognise. It's sparsely decorated and looks medical, it's not often used. 

It takes you only a second to notice the three silhouettes that stand in the corner of the room, effectively blocking your only exit. You lurch into a sitting position, pushing yourself backwards in the bed. 

Panic floods your system, you don't recognise any of them. You have to get up, get back to-?

Get back to who?

The man standing closest to your bed is older, with greying hair and lines around his eyes. He pushes himself of the wall and you take note of the sheer size of him. He's muscular and clearly disciplined. A threat. 

Your eyes scan rapidly for any sort of weapon, something that could offer some vestige of protection. Nothing. 

He raises his arms in mock surrender as he approaches, "How do you feel?" His voice is deep, gentle and entirely unfamiliar. 

W--g. Wrong. Wrong. 

Your voice wavers, "Stay back!" You're pushing yourself even further away from him as you frantically try to assess the best way to escape these men.

"Hey, hey" he continues, your breathing is rapid and shallow. 

Where's ----? I am - ------ and I am ---. I have been ---------. 

Your hand instinctively reaches to the top of your thigh, your fingers find only the thin medical gown you're wearing. 

Where's my -----? 

What are you looking for?

"Do you know where you are?" He asks, he's at the end of your bed now. You realise that you can't escape this situation in your current state, you try and level your breathing and maintain eye contact. 

"No." You grit the words out, you hate the way your heart sinks. 

The man nods, a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. 

Stop it. Stop it. 

"Do you know who I am?" He continues, his voice still calm as he moves to sit at the foot of the bed. His movement spurs you into action, you carefully swing your legs off the bed, just in case. 

"No" You answer again, your hands fisting the bedsheets as you focus on keeping your breathing level. What the fuck is happening. 

"Control your breathing ----. You're --- ------- when --- -"

Whose voice was that?

"I don't-" your voice falters and cracks. If they didn't know you were scared before, they do now. Stupid. 

"Stop giving them the advantage"

His eyes meet yours and he exhales deeply, "My name is Gabriel. You and I work together, you were part of the Federation. Do you know what the Federation is?" As he speaks you realise he is truly unarmed, dressed in civilian clothing. The other two men are in standardised uniform, armed to the teeth. 

At his words, you almost sigh in relief. It's the first bit of information you recognise. The Federation sounds familiar. It's-? E--m-. What was the Federation?

"Yes, but- I...I thought the Federation where-? I'm not part of the Federation? My house was-?" You're stumbling through scattered memories, trying desperately to assign meaning to abstract thoughts. The more you try to pin something down, the quicker it escapes. 

A sudden wave of nausea washes over you. The man in front of you will hurt you. What?

"Dad! Wait! I'm not as fast as ----" It's your voice. You're young.

Where's my Dad?

The man at the end of your bed reaches towards you, covering the hand that's clutching the sheets, "It'll come back to you in time, Sweetheart". You would have flinched if you hadn't locked up in fear. Your heart thundering in your chest. 

"Why can't I remember", you feel a tear roll down your cheek. You're not sure if it's borne from frustration or fear. 

Safe. You're safe. Calm down. 

He tenses and stands abruptly, "You were taken from us, you-" he cuts himself off, "we will get the men that did this to you- I'm just sorry it took us so long to find you".

His back is turned to you, the men that stand guarding the door seem to stand further to attention under his gaze. 

This man, Gabriel, is important. He said you were someone he worked with. Were you important too? 

He came back for you. He said you were taken and he came back for you. 

"I don't-" you feel overwhelmed, unable to breathe. 

You were taken? Why? Who took you? When? What did they do? How did you get out? Are they coming back? Are-

You shake your head, as though you can physically dispel these thoughts. 

Gabriel turns to you again, "you will remember us, and you will help us get revenge for what they did to us". 

Your eyes snap to his, "Us?" You stop trying to hide your fear. 

He returns to your bedside and clasps your hand before he repeats, "Us". 

3 Weeks Later

The chair is still the same uncomfortable plastic one as last time. You fought every urge to make yet another complaint to the man opposite you. You'd asked him to replace it for you, he'd raised his eyebrow, made some notes and said nothing. 

You can remember everything since you woke up in the hospital room, just not a lot before that. However, the nightmares and flashbacks of your time with the Ghosts were becoming more vivid and frequent with each week. Sam made more notes about that. 

You'd see this man almost every day, his name was Sam and that was about all you knew about him. He was assessing you apparently, monitoring your progress before you could go back to work. He applauded your short-term memory progress in the most unenthused tone you'd ever heard. 

He clearly didn't want to be here any more than you did. 

He'd ask the same questions every time before delving into other recovery topics. 

"What's your name" his voice was monotonous, uninterested. 

You reeled off your first name easily, before meeting his unamused gaze and sighing, "I'm not sure". You slouched in your seat, eyes scanning each crack in the cold concrete walls that surrounded the two of you. 

"----? st-----! Get ----!" A man's voice, deep, urgent. 

You fidget in the seat, "Something with a W in it? I don't know". It's the first time since you regained consciousness that you heard one of the voices. You decide not to tell the man opposite you that fun tidbit of information, you're not crazy.

He looks momentarily surprised at the omission before resuming the blank facade and furiously jotting down notes. 

You knew your first name but Gabriel made it clear he wanted you to recall as much information as possible before he told you anything else. He said it would set a good foundation and allow them to track your progress better. It sounded like bullshit to you at the time but you had agreed to it all the same. 

"What's your mother's name?" he continues. 

You wait for another voice, a scattered memory. Nothing. 

"I don't know," your teeth hurt from clenching them, you have to wriggle your jaw to ease the tension.

"Any brothers or sisters?" he pushes his glasses further up his face. Dickhead. 

You hear laughing. "Got---! Yo--- -- ---o-" your hands are skimming the top of water, throwing it suddenly as ----. You hear a laugh and then your own. The sun is blinding and you can't focus on anything. Ha--y. Yo--- -a---.

"I don't know, maybe?" your eyes are closed as you try to concentrate. The sudden onslaught of shattered, unclear memories hurt to try to piece together. 

"How do you know Rorke?" It's a new question. 

"We worked together," you reply almost instantly. It's the only question you can confidently answer. The only answer you've been told the answer to. 

“Where's —-? You came back witho—--?! —---” This time, you recognise it’s your voice. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re screaming.

You bring your palms up to rub your eyes at the screaming. A headache is taking root and your eyes sting in frustration. 

"Who is Elias Walker?" Another new question, you don't like this. 

There are no memories, except a heaviness that settles on your chest. You physically shift in the chair to accommodate the weight and hope he doesn't notice. 

"I wish I knew," your head is still in your hands, your elbows resting on the table. 

The name is a whisper. It should mean something. 

"Are you alright to continue?" His voice is absent of any concern that should be present in that question. God, you hated him. 

"Yes, just annoyed" you manage.

Annoyed with you, with my situation. 

Why the Federation believes that this is the most effective way of getting back your memories is beyond you. You make little to no progress with piecing together your life. Your memories are still undecipherable and scattered. 

You're escorted back to your room, which lies opposite Gabriel's. You're aware that everyone on the base calls him Rorke except for you. He introduced himself as Gabriel and so you're hesitant to deviate away from this name. 

He spends most of his time in the control room, meticulously planning the Federation's next move. 

You'd been around him long enough to know that his main objective was the annihilation of the group of men who'd captured you. A particularly tricky group of men known as the Ghosts. An elite task force that managed to use the Federation's own weapons against Rorke. They also had an unnerving ability to kill droves of Federation soldiers without being detected. 

From the limited number of redacted reports you'd been allowed to read, the Ghosts had managed to infiltrate the Federation ranks an embarrassing number of times. 

It was remarkable, there was only a handful of them and yet the threat they posed was severe and entirely warranted. By the time I was retrieved, only the most loyal remained as active members. 

The Ghosts had taken everything. 

Rorke had succeeded in killing two of them, a man named Ajax and their former leader, 'The Scarecrow'. 

It had been the remaining men, that had ripped you apart over two years of continued torture. 

Gabriel had told you that the Ghosts had targeted you to get to him, you didn't ask why. You had ignored the implications of that statement. He also said you had valuable information, so you left it at that. 

"Damn ---, what the ---- you doing on this?" It was a deep voice, a new one. It was almost entirely intact. You could hear the smile in their voice. It wasn't Rorke, it wasn't anyone here. It was someone you knew before.

You exhaled deeply as you crossed over the threshold of your room, closing the door and sprawling face down across your bed, groaning. You had wanted to make some notes on the voices you heard. You didn't want to forget them, but you didn't want to share them with Sam. 

Any rest that you could have had was ripped away from you by two sharp knocks to the door. 

"Just me," Gabriel yelled before opening the door, not waiting for any invitation to do so. He smiled at you as you scrambled off the bed to a presentable, standing position. 

"You alright?" You ask, despite your initial unease about Gabriel, he was the only one to reach out to you and make you feel comfortable at the base. He was the closest thing you had to a friend. 

"Jus' checking in with you, how was this morning?" He keeps his distance, crossing the room before taking a seat at your desk chair, swivelling it to face you. You follow his lead and sit at the foot of your bed. 

You laugh, feeling tension roll off you, "Same as always, delightful" he seems to smile in response but says nothing else for a moment. 

Gabriel doesn't come to just check in with you, he wants something. 

He moves closer to you, grabbing your shoulder heavily and squeezing. It feels so familiar and yet-? 

It shouldn't be him. 

What? 

"I'm proud of you," he says, "I know what you went through wasn't easy". He looks sincere and you feel your throat tighten. 

You shrug him off playfully, smiling, "Alright, alright, what are you actually here for?"

He laughs, sitting back in his seat, "We've got some leads, need you to get on them - might have something for once". He's relaxed, crossing his arms in front of him. 

You're taken aback, you'd essentially been signed off indefinitely, "You think I'm ready to - y'know, come back?". You're so hopeful and you can hear it in your voice. 

Finally. You could get back to doing something you were good at. Something that had made you important once. 

He laughs and you both move to stand, his arm wrapping over your shoulders as he leads you towards the control centre, "never doubted you for a second". 

You're smiling. Actually smiling. 

It's nice having someone believe in you. Someone who can attest to what you used to be capable of. The rest of the soldiers here avoid you, keep their eyes low as you pass them in corridors. As though you were a higher rank than them. As though you really were important. 

Who were you? 

next

[ageless-soul-au]

If someone was to start getting into asau, which order would you recommend? (Asking for a friend) (Definitely not for me) (Not at all) (Nope) (Nu uh)

I recently reordered the ao3 series, so it should be accurate now! Counterpart, Confidential, and Altars are the only ones you need to read for the main au (in that order) (and even then you could probably skip Counterpart but it's a short read so it's up to you. The series doesn't really start until Con). If you want to read the nsfw (P&C), some of it relies on plot things and some of it doesn't. It's different per chapter since Peaches & Cream is a catch-all.

If you wanna read the spinoff stuff, we have a separate au series for that! It's also linked in the pinned post. Faction is its own thing which receives semi regular updates, and the Lifeblood series is also separate (porn with plot, solely written by me). I need to go back and edit the fic Lifeblood since I wrote that first and then wrote the prequel. I'm kind of working on the third installment but it's slow going.

We're actively updating Altars and Faction, with an Altars chapter lined up for tomorrow (Sunday, Sept 1). Reading the main series is not required to read the spinoffs, though the characterization slightly differs between mainline, Faction, and Lifeblood.

A Condensed Guide to ASAU Fics:

Do you want to read slowburn romance that takes 30+ chapters to resolve? Confidential. Legend and Warriors spend that fic picking up (almost) every hero and having several miscommunications while learning about each other and falling in love. They deal with ✨traumaaaa✨ (and sexuality and gender) with kind of a B plot of the Quest Setup.

In The Stolen Altars, it picks up right where Con left off. With pretty much everyone assembled, it's time to get started on The Quest finally... After almost 300k words... They encounter dungeons and monsters and talk to deities, all while being toyed with by the main antagonist! A few more heroes join the cast! Be forewarned that this fic includes temporary death of major characters. It's tied in with the plot, you'll understand when you get there. This fic has surpassed Con's word count and we still have two more eras to go. It will be followed by a sequel. The main fics will maybe turn out to be a trilogy?????? But if it stretched to a 4th fic I wouldn't be surprised. The timeline on this is years lmao, I can't predict how wordy we'll get.

Faction is a political drama dealing with international relations and war, with a side of romance. It's got all the characters you know and love, but some slightly to the left! General fantasy setting with a bit of Zelda lore mixed in. It'll most likely be completed in one fic! WAOW!!!

The Lifeblood series is vampires and smut. What else do you need to hear? (Real talk tho, The Copper Kettle is higher quality/more cohesive in theme than Lifeblood the fic, gimme a little bit to fix the inconsistencies hxhdbsbsn)

Hope this helps! Happy reading! And don't forget to COMMENT!!!!! (probably with some context bc in some cases it's been years since we wrote this hxhxhsjs)

-Kio

[pinkpoweredpunk]

• pinned post •

heya, I’m Blake (they/them). ‘m an ace trainer from Galar, and- well- an ex-champion so if you recognize me that’s probably why. or maybe from the two disasters I helped stop-

anyways! I’ve done a bit of traveling these last few years, I’ve been to the isle of armor, crown tundra, and Kalos. but right now I’m back in my home region Unova for. college I Guess. I’m not super happy about it but whatever grr

this here’s my ace, Kappa. best Inteleon in the world <33

my current team bc update I ran away from the shitty college that didn’t let me have pokemon with me (don’t ask):

-King (F Servine)

-Cordelia (F Panpour)

-Beau (M Woobat)

other 'mons:

-Kappa (M Inteleon)

-Go-Go (F Coalossal)

-Lancelot (M Sirfetch’d)

-Jeanne (F Corviknight)

-Charlie (M Boltund)

-Venom (M Toxtricity)

-Red (M Delphox)

-Basil (M Sylveon)

-Granite (M Tyrantrum)

-Ryu (M Lucario)

-Verde (M Venusaur)

-Stardust (M Meowstic)

-Blister (F Charizard)

-Tulip (F Venusaur)

-Snart (F UD Archen)

-Athena (F Urshifu)

-Tater (F Flapple)

-Potato (M Galarian Slowpoke)

-Audun (M Flygon)

-Zuzu (F Dragapult)

-Azi (F Dreepy)

-Shiverbolt (Arctozolt)

-Alto (M Grookey)

-Oran (M Munchlax)

-Fwoofy (Cosmog)

-Stormy (M Sobble)

-Dewdrop (M Sobble)

-Nessa Jr. (F Sobble)

-Bubble (M Sobble)

-Neptune (F Sobble)

-Flick (F Vivillon)

-Snooze (M Snorlax)

-Pecha (F Grookey X Fomantis hybrid)

-Galahad (M Skarmory)

-Spark (M Galvantula ✨)

uhhh what are some other things about me. well besides pokemon training I enjoy drawing, martial arts, and camping! might post my doodles here from time to time. if I get the chance to go camping I’ll probably post vlogs about that too.

that’s about all you need to know I guess! feel free to shoot me an ask or message whenever you want

update: apparently I have that dog in me. and by that I mean I’m a therian. midday lycanroc most likely

———

Tag Directory:

#blake post - ic posts made by Blake

#blake rb - ic reblogs from Blake

#doodle tag - for either ic art by Blake or ooc art by mod (usually the former)

#ooc post - mod post

#blake plays hollow knight - literally just me livebloggging my first playthrough of hollow knight but as Blake

#wolf tag - blake posting stuff about their theriotype (rockruff/lycanroc)

#non-canon post - what it says on the tin. mostly for sillyposting

———

CURRENT ARC: Facets of Truth Arc

Summary: After a slight mishap, Blake finds themself on a spur of the moment journey around the Unova region.

Truth and ideals collide. Balance is put to the test. What outcome will this new formula present?

Tag: #facets of truth arc

Warnings: N/A (for now)

Mini Arc: N/A

Previous Arcs: #MMM: Rival Swap!

———

//OOC

hiii Wren here! so this is basically a fresh restart of @pinkhairandpokemon. I decided it would be fun to start at the beginning of their Unova arc this time around. they’re 18 here, and just starting the main story of pokemon black!

I just got kinda… unmotivated to run their old blog anymore?? so I decided it was time for a refresh. SUPER excited to rp as this version of them

this Blake is probably going to be more… standoffish? I guess? not all-out mean but they’re kind of bitchier in this arc of their story (tbf they deserve to be after the shit they went through-) so while they’ll typically be chill in normal interactions they might be like. be a bit more snarky. I’m always scared of being too mean when I rp so please let me know if I need to tone it down!! ;w;

they’ll also probably be a little more discreet about being a chosen. for now anyway :3c they’ll still talk a bit about it but they won’t go super in detail about their powers

mod is 21, and follows from @scrappyscales, but if you need to contact me OOC go to @xgoldenlatiasx

Magic Anons: On (within reason, and I might not reply to them immediately)

Pelipper Mail/Malice: On

Musharna Mail: On

Union Circle: On

Askbox: Open

(IC hate anons are ok)

I think that’s everything but if you need me to specify if anything else is on lmk.

their old blog will be kept up for archival purposes if anyone still wants to check it out!

[lover-of-skellies]

Don’t know if you’re still doing this but has anyone asked about inks smoochability?

It's been a year since I've done anything with the smoochability ratings, but hey. There were a few skeletons I hadn't done this for, and Ink was one of them, so I figured I might as well :P

All my logic is under the cut if you wanna look at it, but at the end of the day, Ink gets a smoochability rating of 9. He's one of the safer options, surprisingly enough, so if you'd like to smooch him, go right on ahead. Just be prepared; he could end up accidentally nipping or throwing up ink on you if you get him too excited

1) Is Ink's mouth dangerous at all? I don't believe it would be. His teeth are flat and standard, though I've seen some depictions of him that had little fangs, too. There are no parasites in there, no mysterious diseases/viruses you could catch, and a kiss wouldn't kill you; in fact, the worst thing that could happen would be Ink getting too excited and throwing up ink in your mouth and on you in general. While that's incredibly gross to think about, that's more of a health hazard than a danger factor, since if you kiss him, you'll at least leave without having any blood drawn. So, 2 points for safety

2) Would he bite? Not intentionally. While he IS like adhd incarnate and while he DOES do things that are a bit impulsive (see: everything involving taunting Error), I would assume he knows that biting people is bad. There is a chance that he might bite accidentally if startled, but for the most part, no, I don't see him being a biter. 2 points for not munching on anyone's lips

3) Are there any health hazards to the smoocher? Uhhhh yeah. It's the fact that if he gets too excited, he vomits ink. That in and of itself is gross, but not overly harmful. Then again though, there are different types of ink that exist, and we don't know what specific type he vomits. The impact that accidentally swallowing it might have on a human person could vary, depending on what exactly the type is. Worst case scenario, it's toxic and you need your stomach pumped asap to get it out, and best case scenario, it's yuckydisgusting and only makes you slightly sick for a short amount of time. The hazard level is up for debate here, but I'll still give him at least 1 point since death is not a guaranteed outcome

4) Does he have a sympathetic backstory? Sort of?? I know he was from an incomplete AU and was sorta. Left alone in the vast nothingness, until creators' feelings started raining down on him and he started experimenting with them. It'd really suck to be the only vaguely self aware person from your home, and then be alone eventually, surrounded by nothingness, so that does give me at least a little sympathy. So,, 1 point. It's very unfortunate, but it's not sad enough that I feel like crying over it

5) Does he deserve a smooch? Ehhhh, this one is up for debate. Personally, I'd say no, since from what I know and remember of his canon story, he never really did anything that would make him deserving of a smooch. 1 point, since maybe under the right circumstances he'd be deserving, but as is, I'm not really feeling it

6) Is Ink cute or cool? In a way, yeah, he could be considered cute and cool. He's cute in the "small guy with 0 thoughts behind those eyes" sense, and then he's cool design-wise. His first design was interesting and unique, but it had a lot going on, and then his updated design has less going on visually, but it's still pretty interesting and unique. If I was shown a silhouette of him, I'd be able to identify who he was, so. 2 points

When we add up all of our points and take everything into consideration, Ink is a 9 out of 12 :P he's a safer option, but even then, he could still unintentionally give you a nasty surprise. This is the part where I'd add in a scenario to kinda lay out how it'd go, but like. It's hot here. I'm feeling lazy, and thinking is Hard right now. I have a first kiss master list in my pinned post, which could be something to consider checking out if you're curious at all!

[midnightfire830]

Blog Boundaries

I am ok with:

- People drawing my AUs and characters as long as you either @ me or mention that it belongs to me. (Hell, I’ll even reblog and help support ur drawings)

- Asks about my AUs and characters in general are ok. From questions about how an AU works/aspects, questions directed to my characters, or even if you wanna give something to the characters

- I don’t mind if you draw your OCs in my AUs or with characters. Just don’t expect me to make it canon or draw it into canon.

- If there was an ask that didn’t fully explain something or you wanted to clear something up then by all means go to the comments I don’t mind. Or put in another ask. That’s another way to do it. DM’s are fine too.

- I don’t mind people putting in drawing requests or ideas in asks. Tho there’s a chance I won’t do it if I’m not too motivated by the request.

Things I am NOT ok with:

- Asking me or pressuring me to draw your AUs, characters, or OCs. Even for asks. Any kinds of other OCs or AUs I draw would only be for my close friends.

- Spamming me with the same asks. If you sent in an ask and I didn’t response don’t send in the same ask again. (That includes reiterating the same ask) I can see all interactions with my blog and posts. I see your asks, replies, comments, reblogs, and likes. If I do not respond to your ask it is for a good reason. Sometimes I’m trying to answer other asks, I’m drawing up a response (that takes time), I’m holding on to it for a later date, I’m lacking motivation on answering or I just don’t want to. Pressuring me to answer your ask Doesn’t. Help. Just because you put in an ask doesn’t mean you’re entitled to an answer.

- Being aggressive or pushy with asks. I’m ok with playful aggression targeted towards characters (say for example someone expressing they hate Dice from Royalty) that’s ok. But there’s a line. And some have started to toe that line. Please tone it down a bit.

- Please don’t include me in any kinds of drama. Both internet and off. This includes political topics, wars, events, gossip, etc. I seriously don’t want anything to do with it. The purpose of this blog is to share my AUs and ideas and support other artists. Not for drama. If you’re gonna tag me it should be about art, AUs, and fandom related. I’m not gonna waste my energy, time, or stress on other stuff like that.

- And ig in terms of topics I want to avoid things like: NSFW, incest, p*dophilia, r*pe, proshipping, permanent disfiguration (like chopping off limbs stuff outside of I guess whatever I have built into the lore of my AUs), outright physical torture or major character death. (The usual things)

Warning: if you cross one of these boundaries I will give you some (2-3) warnings. If you continue to cross boundaries I will block you.

I’m sorry to be harsh about this but I really have to put my foot down on this. I can’t tolerate people who won’t respect my boundaries.

This post might be subject to change and updated as time goes and as I interact more with viewers/readers. If you are wondering if something you’re doing might be crossing a boundary, you can use this post as a reference. I’ll pin it to my blog so anyone can find it.

If you are still not sure or want clarification, or you have a specific circumstance in mind, you can jump down to the comments section of this post, send me an ask, or even go to my DMs (if you want to ask privately). I will more than likely see your question and I’ll try my best to answer as soon as possible. It might take a bit depending on if I’m busy IRL. So please be patient.

Anyway, thank you guys for taking the time to read this and respecting my boundaries. Your support with my blog and art so far is greatly appreciated im excited to continue to interact with y’all going forward!

List of my AUs!!!

This link will take you to the AU guide I had pinned previously!

I will update it as I go with talking about my AUs!

Thanks again,

Midnight/Sanity

Last updated: 06/24/24

[merr1nelly113]

ALL ABOUT ME!

Hope yall read my pinned post here! I don't have to force you to follow my blog or whatever and it's depending on your taste. :D

DNI: Pedophile & zoophil3

CAPITAL LETTERS IS MY SIGNATURE 🍷

My interest in multifandom list! - BLAZBLUE, HELLSING, POSTAL, BUBOSERIES, LURKING FOR LOVE, POKEMON, AND MORE

I'm quite big fan of antagonist and some are not antagonist! -

HELLSING : WALTER C DORNEZ, ENRICO MAXWELL, ANDERSON, ALUCARD, SERAS, INTREGA, HANS & THE DOCTOR!

BLAZBLUE: VALKENHAYN, HAKUMAN, TSUBAKI & RELIUS CLOVER

BUBOSERIES: EVERYONE!

LURKING FOR LOVE: OF COURSE, IT'S JACOB.

POKEMON: EVERY TEAM LEADERS AND COMMENDERS VILAINY! LUCIAN, GRIMSLEY, OLIVIA (QUEEN!!), SCOLIPEDE, AEGISHLASH!

RESIDENT EVIL: KARL HEISENBERG, MR X, WESKER

BLOOD: CALEM (HE HAS CHAOTIC QUOTES)

POSTAL: DUDE (HE'S COOL YOU KNOW?)

FACT ABOUT ME: I'm a fanart and oc artist. I wish I have a time to draw fanart due to the personal issues and sometimes I feel unmotivated and tired. Everyone need rest. I might be so silly.

If I create new ocs or my sona and I'll add here in the pinned post and I'm not really good at character writing!

MY CARRD!! (I'M CURRENTLY ACTIVE ON TWITTER)

My OC information 🍷

His name is Caster Blake, 27 (not 28), 5'7 feet tall and he likes cat ofc, however he can control his addiction (smoker, like 3 times a week and I hope he will stop smoking addiction ❤)

Fun fact: His best friend is Hasdius! Even tho he look a bit unprofessional and diligent but he respect others.

His name is Hadius, nickname Hasdy, 28 yrs old, 5'7 feet tall same height as Caster Blake. He also likes cat and he's a waiter at the cafeteria. (I think I should draw my ocs😭)

i feel orange :>

Update: Here's come my new oc!

His name is Lennart Ignis. He likes to read and collecting rare item for his inspiration or reference and he kinda an engineer or researcher. I'm not sure what kind of his occupation is... :p

oh yeah, since when he have a cane? Maybe because he likes to collecting stuff and bring it into his home or personal studio.

Also, the machine character design sheet. Well, I was working on it!

[uncouth-the-fifth]

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.2

read it on ao3. masterlist.

words: 4747 notes: HI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO. uni is finally no longer kicking my ass, so here is a pythia update! since it's been an embarrassing amount of time since I last posted, i rly wanted to get something out for u guys - and as a result this chapter is shorter than what I'd like, but I hope still fun and silly ;) thank you so much for holding on with me and i can't wait to hear your thoughts! p.s - sam and dean are extra sweet this chapter bc i want all of u to love me again >:)

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

George Phelps was Max’s passenger, and, among other things, a loving and committed husband. He lived in a quaint little house in the suburbs, where his wife put his picture on the mantle and refused to say much to you. She didn’t have to. Just looking up at their house from the curb, decorated with soft glowing Christmas lights and silver crosses, you knew George Phelps wasn’t your guy. Maybe Max had seen him pry open the emergency exit on the flight, but you seriously doubted a dentist with acid reflux was behind the deaths of two hundred people.

Sitting in George’s living room and speaking with his wife, you swore that there was almost something there, but it was neutral enough that you doubted it was anything more than the wisps of George’s presence in the house. Fresh grief always felt the same.

You didn’t like how this hunt had been gnawing on you. The visions always itched you in their own way, but this time was distinctly, uncomfortably different, and you just couldn’t pin down why. It was your job to take the weird inclinations the Gift gave you and turn them into something usable. Somehow, you couldn’t even manage that.

You were the first one out of George Phelp’s stifling house and the first one into the Impala. In the safety of the backseat, you curled your nails into the upholstery until your fingers hurt and just felt. What were you missing? What were you recognizing, but failing to remember?

The thing you were hunting was big game. You’d had hundred-year-old vengeful spirits in your head, and they couldn’t even glimpse the kind of hatred you were dealing with here. It affected audio recordings, had loads of strength, and took a metal bat to your Gift every time you even thought about it. Somehow, it manifested with or connected to normal people. None of this rung any bells with you. Which was ridiculous, since it felt more and more familiar the longer you rolled your vision over in your mind—beyond close, like it was within arm’s reach.

Sam, in the Impala’s passenger seat, started giving you cautious looks in the rear-view. Dean had been halfway through griping about this case when Sam finally spoke his mind: “____… What exactly did you see in your vision?”

Both of the boys shared a furtive glance, then turned to look at you as one.

You must’ve shown the panic you were feeling on your face, because Dean’s clammed up with awkward sympathy. “...I know this one was tougher n’ usual, but I need you to buck up a bit, okay? This thing’s got nothing on you. C’mon.”

When you frowned, there was a bitter tang growing on the back of your tongue. You weren’t six. You didn’t need someone to coax your nightmares from you, and you definitely didn’t need anyone telling you to put your big girl pants on. Dean didn’t have to ask Sam to toughen up, even four years off his game, and you doubted he ever told himself to. Grr.

“Just start driving,” you gruffed, and failed to stop your lip from curling.

The arm Dean had hung over the front seat slouched into his lap. “...Sure thing. What’d you see?”

He turned the key and got you on the road again, joined, right on cue, by Sam’s kicked-puppy look swaying back to the windshield. You reminded yourself that the only reason you were pissed was because of how awful these last few days had been, and explained yourself.

“It was intense. Way more intense than most visions I’ve had. Not because of anything I saw—though the crash was… awful—but because of the feeling it gave me. Even when I got out of it… it just filled my head, I guess. This thing has a seriously powerful influence.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Did you see it at all?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, reminded again of how little you were helping. “Most of it was just flashes of the passengers. The plane going down. Before that, I saw a man’s hand grab the handle to the emergency door, the pilots talking about a flight out of Pittsburg, and then smoke. Loads of it.”

The car sunk into a heavy, thought-honed silence that only served to ramp up to your anxiety. You kept the case on your mind for all of two seconds, then were pulled to the ceaseless clicking of Dean’s turn signal and how scratchy your bandages were. Your suit sat too stiff on your body for you to relax into your seat, squeezing your empty belly in the worst way and chaffing on Baby’s leather. The cold air was too dry and your eyes and throat burned with the strangest pressure. Not a sick pressure, but a living one, pressing in. Black smoke. Your pain meds were wearing off too, so the sinew in your body felt taut and worn on an unfamiliar skeleton.

You stared dead-eyed at nothing for a minute longer, then Dean hauled the Impala up to the curb again and declared: “Fuck it. We’re getting lunch. What are you in the mood for, baby?”

“That’s a weird way to say the car needs gas, Dean,” you managed.

“No—not her-Baby, you baby!” Dean flushed, and honestly, he deserved some serious points for scrounging up any humor right now. Again, he tossed an elbow over the seat and threw a dazzling, morale-boosting grin at you. “What do you want to eat, darlin’? We can go to a sit-down place, have an actual meal. Or we can just grab something from the store. Anything.”

You hesitated to answer, and caught Sam’s grimace—you were way too poor right now to go for anything beyond instant noodles. “...We can wait til’ later, Dean. I don’t really have an appetite right now,” you lied.

Dean never begged, but forever reason he was willing to today. Maybe you seemed even worse off than you’d thought. “...C’mon, kid, you’re killing me here. Whatever you want. My treat.”

Again, you didn’t jump at the chance to answer. Truth be told, you could eat a grocery store whole right now, but the three of you did not have the budget. Dean was insane and devoted enough to steal lunch for you, too, and you didn’t feel like bailing him out of jail right now. Just the idea made your wallet tear up.

You opened your mouth to try and be realistic, only for Sam to interrupt you.

“Ice cream,” he read your mind. “She wants ice cream. The big grocery store tubs.”

Dean didn’t wait for any objections. He whipped the Impala out of park, jerked back into your lane, and peeled away toward the nearest store. “Ice cream! Hell yeah. I could fuck up some cherry garcia right now. Sam? Could you fuck up some ice cream right now?”

“Me? Oh, big time,” he lied, catching your eyes in the rearview again. You’d maybe seen Sam eat ice cream twice in your entire life. Again, he was probably hiding that he was lactose intolerant.

You had only a sliver of fight left within you. “Boys…”

“Yes?” They chimed. In their own ways, their voices dared you to resist, but the combined power of both Winchesters was too strong to withstand.

You bit down your grin and fell silent.

A few minutes later, Dean pulled into a thirty-year-old mini-mart that looked it’s age. Of course, he parked the Impala as far from the other cars as possible, so the mile-long walk through freezing, finger-numbing winds put everyone in the mood for ice cold ice cream. The first euphoric rush of interior heating made you sigh out loud. When Sam and Dean had swiped the snow off their blazers, you made an attempt at leading them toward another toastier, cheaper snack.

“You want ice cream,” was all Sam said, shrugging, and scooped up a basket for the three of you to use.

Either you were predictable or he could read minds, because even with the snowy weather you were more than ready to fuck up some ice cream. Just thinking about it made your bandages feel less scratchy. Lounging on the couch and plowing through a tub was a privilege the road really didn’t allow, so you were pretty sure you hadn’t even had any ice cream since October. Since you’d actually lived in your apartment.

“How did you know?” You asked him, out of honest curiosity.

Sam gave you a mysterious smile instead of an answer, swiped some snow off your jacket, then tilted his head after Dean in an unspoken come on. His brother had already caught the scent of the frozen treats section, so you both hurried to catch up with him. You stole glimpses of Sam as you wove your way to the back of the store. He was a little taller than the aisles, and his loafers cleared the age-stained linoleum in half the time your heels did. For whatever reason this is when your heart decides to remind you how absolutely spellbound you are by him. He takes a turn around an endcap of Little Debbies to find Dean, and you float right after him, orbited by cartoon hearts.

Maybe that’s intentional on Sam’s part, since you forget all about money and budgets right up until you’re staring down the row of smudged freezer doors. Dean’s already hefting his tub of cherry garcia overhead when you approach, and after a lot of fake stadium-cheering and whooping, he free-throws it with a perfect swish into Sam’s basket. Then, he slides aside and unveils the mini-mart’s slim selection of ice creams to you. Unfortunately, you’ve been trained from birth to think Dean’s funny, so you bite down on your cheek-aching grin and take a look.

“I dunno…” you say, even though you’ve already come this far. The math is starting to stack in your head. One tub is fine, but one for each of you builds up, and that cuts into real food money and motel money and gas money and—

“How about this,” Sam interrupts your mounting anxiety, voice smooth and anticipatory. “Dean gets his and then you and I get one to share. Sound good?”

You thank him with a small smile, imagining the face he’d make if you yanked him down by the lapels and kissed him for knowing you so well. Sam was a great kisser.

“That’d be perfect.”

Instead of going for your favorite, you swipe the dairy-free cookies and cream.

Dean shoos Sam further down the aisle, and his brother props up the basket like a hoop and starts serpentining between the frozen pizzas, the two of them beaming like rowdy middle school boys. You turn your tub over in your hand and line up your shot. Dean’s taunting and pinching is ultimately fruitless—the victory grin is already comfortable on your face when your ice cream swishes flawlessly into Sam’s basket. Sam whoops.

“Not bad, Slayer,” Dean approves. He gives your shoulder a playful budge, and you budge him right back on the way to the registers.

With your bad mood successfully thawed, you’re easy to distract while Dean sneaks away to (hopefully) pay for your plunder. One minute you’re in line with them, and in the next Sam is coaxing you away to poke around the value movie bin, hypnotizing you with a few well-placed, dimply grins. You forget altogether that ice cream costs money. You’re only just remembering what money is when Dean reappears, shoving a receipt in his pocket and jabbing a thumb toward the bakery.

“Cashier lady said they got spoons over there,” Dean explained.

You paused. “Don’t we have, like, a gazillion in the car?”

“You mean the car with the heater that takes ten years to start?” Dean sassed back, which instantly dissolved into one of his cheesy, goading grins. He started to rifle through the grocery bag for his flavor, half-walking and half-wrestling with it. “We’ll eat in here. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, you didn’t worry about it. Dean cracked jokes about adult freedoms and whole sleeves of raw cookie dough, Sam rubbed his belly like just the thought made him nauseous, and you giggled at every little thing they did. You were still laughing when Sam parked you by one of the bakery’s vents, the two of you crowded close to get as much warm bread fog as possible. Dean went over and bartered for three plastic spoons. The whole time he stole glances at you loudly giggling with his brother, and patted himself on the back for his job well done.

Dean wiggled closer to you both to be under the warmth of the vent. Now equipped with a way to get this ice cream into your ice-cream-ready belly, you borrowed Sam’s pocket knife to shred the plastic seperating you from your treasure. There wasn’t really a contactless way to hold the tub between you both. While Dean ravaged his cherry garcia, you and Sam tried, and failed, to preserve your personal space, only to lazily gravitate closer to each other with the first glorious spoonfuls of cookie-dough. The first bite balmed your sore throat and your sensitive burns. It was sweeter than you were expecting for dairy-free ice cream, but the surprise was welcome.

Dean stabbed his spoon into his cherry garcia. Then, he gave you another welcome surprise. He dropped his hand in your hair, smoothing it back, and asked around a mouthful of cherry flavoring, “Good?”

You couldn’t help but beam. “Yeah. I’m good.”

_

NTSB EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

The next step in your investigation, naturally, was to break into a government warehouse, slip past security undetected, and hopefully learn something useful from the wreckage without being caught. No amount of ice cream could make that easy, but you couldn’t let your anxiety get in the way. The heart attacks you had showing your fake badge to the security guards were nausea-inducing, but the overpowering psychic weight of a disaster this fatal was going to be a thousand times worse. You steeled yourself.

Before you’d been a hunter, you’d come from a long line of spiritualists and occultists who made death their livelihood. They communicated with the spirit world, they studied life after death, they made the passing of old souls easier. Even before your Gift opened up you’d had similar connections to death. Beth, eyes gleaming with pride, used to tell stories about you at four, talking to the darkness of the attic’s crawlspace like there was someone there. Dean got head to toe heebie-jeebies when you brought that up, but a connection to the other side at such a young age was a Proctor mark of pride. The first time you’d ever seen an apparition had been celebrated as a milestone of womanhood. Death was your older sister, so you shouldn’t have been afraid of her.

You’d sensed her just a few miles out from the warehouse. It was gentle at first, seeping into your ears like a shift in air pressure, then gradually filling up your other senses. But over two hundred real living people—people who loved and were loved like you loved Sam and Dean—had died in that crash, so in no time you were squeezing your eyes shut and plugging your nose in the backseat. You felt Death every day in small doses. In Sam, restlessly watching the ceiling of your rooms at night, in your motorcycle, in the graves you dug up and the homes you questioned civilians in. Your sister sat beside you in the back of the Impala every day.

But two hundred whole people. You dug the nails of your right fist into your palm until it burned, thinking, desperately, about ice cream.

The closer you came to the scene, the more overwhelming the sense of death became. You were almost swaying on your feet flashing your badge at the security desk, who, of course, have to remind everyone of how useless you are.

“FBI? Don’t you guys usually work in pairs?”

Sam gave a tight smile. “She’s our aircraft specialist, thank you.”

A security clerk from the main office drove you out to the right hangar on a golf cart. Dean laid his action movie smolder a bit thick on the guy, but he at least could’ve passed as a trainee. By comparison, Sam at twenty-two and you at twenty-four were round-faced babies, too young to play agents on TV, nevermind in real life. The two of you squished together on the back bench of the cart and sat ramrod straight the whole ride, refusing to turn around. The less people who could remember your faces, the better.

When the warehouse was unlocked and the three of you were inside, your sister struck.

There was so much death. Great mouthfuls, lungfuls, chestfuls of it in the air, diffusing through your nose every time you breathed. You gagged on the psychic taste of it until your eyes watered.

A smarter person would’ve stayed in the safe bubble between Sam and Dean, but you’re done being babied. You break ranks the first chance you get. While the boys take slow steps around the perimeter of the wreckage, you gravitate toward the split-open center of the fuselage. All that remains of the plane’s body are a few rows of seating, gutted curves of scrap, and long tangles of roasted wires. There was so little left that you had room to walk through the middle, down the same path the passengers had taken to board.

When the ringing in your ears was too loud to hear over and you felt like a massive fist had closed around your chest, you stopped. Reached out. Felt, beyond the veil, the mark of the thing that had done this. It hung over this warehouse like a funeral shroud, but you felt it first through its spider web, which kept the last impressions of over two-hundred different people tethered to this place by invisible strands. None of the people—the spirits from the crash had manifested yet, but every living thing left an impression of itself behind. A footprint.

You pulled at different strands of the spider’s web for a while, sorting through the last memories of those on the plane for something useful. It was just as terrible as you’d expect. Mothers held their children, husbands clutched their wives, everyone wailed and screamed. This many people should’ve made up a whole nebula of different feelings, but instead you sensed just one: absolute, incalculable terror. With every passing moment the fear pressed in closer, but you ignored it. You pushed yourself deeper. Max Jaffey gasped into his oxygen mask. The seat in front of him was empty, and he was looking at someone—you reached and reached—across the aisle, a man sobbed and pressed his girlfriend’s trembling hand into his heart—you were going to die you were all going to die—

You’re ripped out of the swarm of memories.

For the millionth fucking time, you come out of the vision on your ass with the boys hovering over you. You’re slow to remember where you are and what’s going on, but the shame is there waiting for you, like always.

“—okay, just breathe, you’re okay—” Sam is telling you, soft and unbelievably patient, considering the number of times he’s had to do this.

His heart is full-on pounding like it’s gonna punch right out of his chest, and you wonder why you know that until you glance down. He’s got your wrist fished in his hand, pressing your palm to flat to the crisp chest of his suit, and it’s just plain embarrassing at this point how much it pulls you back to earth. Your dignity wants you to rip yourself away from him, but, luckily, Dean does it for you. He pushes Sam back and kicks a box of wires neatly between you, just in time for his premonition to come true: your twisting stomach makes its move, and you promptly throw up into the box like a sick toddler in a ball pit. Dean could always tell.

“Touchdown,” he winces.

This is it. You’ve reached the final level of humiliation you can stand. No matter how hard you try, every pathetic dive you’ve made to be useful to the Winchesters has ended with your face in the mud. You can’t even wipe your face right. Sam ends up doing it for you with his sleeve, and sighs, out loud, just to add insult to injury: “Poor baby.”

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, evening.

Two hours later, you’re back in the motel, sitting criss-cross at the end of Dean’s bed and contemplating what color you’re going to dye your hair. You’ve already landed on what your new legal name will be—Elizabeth Ripley. Elizabeth as in Pride and Prejudice and Ripley as in Alien. Sam would appreciate a Jane Austen reference and Dean would appreciate anything Alien related, so everyone would be happy.

You’re not sure where this plan to change your name and face came from. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, after you gracefully threw up everywhere and failed to learn anything new about the case, the real FBI showed up. Like. Real, gun-slinging, tie-wearing FBI agents. And they may or may not have chased you out of the warehouse. (Which you would’ve seen coming, by the way, if you hadn’t royally exhausted your powers). Just in case all that was enough—while you were off being useless, Sam and Dean got a potential sample from your mystery monster. An actual workable lead.

Fucking great.

The two of them are deciding what to do with you. If you were to look beyond the lens of your self-hatred for a moment, it’s more likely that the boys are worried about you and trying to figure this out. But you feel embarrassed and gross and unhelpful, so you strain to pick up every word you can and glare a new hole into the wall. They’re going to tell you to stay behind. Well that, at least, is something you can beat them to.

Ever since you were little, the three of you had a very special rhythm together. Sam was the mind and Dean was the heart and you were the subconscious. Each of you was important, and though you could work on your own, you were so, so much better as a system. With you sending out fucked-up signals, the two of them would be down a crucial piece.

Whatever. They’d probably function just fine without you on this one.

Of course, Dean sics his little peacekeeper on you. The door clicks open. You smear the last of your frustrated tears on your sleeve and talk before Sam can say anything: “Hey, is it okay if you guys take that sample to Jerry without me? It’d probably be good for us to get a leg up on research, and you guys don’t exactly need me there.”

Sam comes toward you, his voice extra soft and placating. Since, y’know, you’re a shitty timebomb that needs to be handled with kid gloves. “...Alright. That’s a good idea. That’d help out a lot.”

He says that specifically because he knows you feel unhelpful. He gives you those dewy, understanding Sam eyes and puts his big Sam hand on your shoulder, and all it does is piss you off. You hate how easily he can read you, and how much you want to listen to him. None of this should be such a big fucking deal. You’re twenty-four—you should have a handle on your Gift by now. Sam’s been back at this for, what? Two months? Nobody’s treating him like he can’t handle the pressure. He’s not being haunted by visions twenty-four-fucking-seven or dealing with stupid burns or—or being creeped on by random hunters! Or throwing up at crime scenes!

Your eyes start to burn. You glare harder at the wall, and force yourself not to take this out on him.

Sam’s hand goes to move off your shoulder, but something changes his mind and he keeps it there for another lingering moment. “Look at me a second.”

You force yourself to look at his face. As mad as you are, the boy-crazy teenage girl in your head gets one look at him and squeals into her pillow.

“Go easy on yourself,” he says, softer than before. “Really. Nobody’s built for this kind of thing.”

You want to scream. Me! I am! I’m built for this! But you’re not a teenager anymore, so you compose yourself, sigh, and tell him, “...I’ll try.”

Instead of getting up, Sam stares at you for a long beat. There’s something in his eyes you can’t describe, and his hand is still on your shoulder, tethering the two of you to each other. Your mental teenage girl is about to succumb to romantic psychosis when Sam’s greenish eyes find something else to look at, and he passes you something from his pocket.

He mutters something like feel better and gets up, leaving you with a shard of metal about as long as one of your fingers. He doesn’t explain what it is to you. He doesn’t tell you what to do with it. Because you’re a hunter, dammit, and Sam knows you can handle yourself. His warm, calloused palm slips off your shoulder and you get the impression that he was never using any kid gloves with you to begin with.

Sam leaves. You stare at the shard as the Impala slinks out of the parking lot. Just by touch, you know it’s a piece of flight 2485’s fuselage.

…You do as Sam asked, and go easy on yourself. After a shower, a little teeth-brushing, and a lot of mints, you’re feeling way less gross and a lot more like a hunter. The whole time you pour through research on your laptop, you rub the shard of flight 2485 between your fingers and sort through what this thing could be. Inhuman strength. Uses a vessel. Black eyes. Black smoke.

Nobody’s built for this kind of thing, Sam had said, and he’d been wrong. You’d been honing this Gift before you’d even known you’d had it. Most of your life had been spent learning every kind of divination under the sun, so there was no way this thing could hide from you.

You started easy, reading the shard through psychometry. The nauseous feeling rose up inside you again, and again, you heeded Sam’s warning and chose to push away from it. You tried numerology, which felt like a push in the right direction; 2458 wasn’t relevant, and though 7 survivors could mean something interesting (luck, the union of the physical and the spiritual, yadda yadda), your gut told you it was something else. The plane crashed 40 minutes in. Biblical numerology, maybe? Promising. But also potentially terrifying.

When your bone casting read felt flat and uninspired, you defaulted to the simplest method you could think of. Tarot.

The first time you’d seen an apparition, your mom had scooped you up into a massive hug and paraded you around the house, declaring to the spirits of the underworld that a new heavyweight champ had entered the ring. (This became a lot funnier the older you got). You were bought ice cream and root beer and told in a thousand ways, subtle and unsubtle, that this was a good thing. One of the ways Beth convinced you was with her childhood tarot deck, which she’d gifted you that day.

You turned the cards over in your hands, imbuing the worn-smooth texture of the paper with the feelings from your vision. The first card you pulled was done on nothing but pure instinct. And the second. By the third, you shuffled the deck as thoroughly as possible, but the answer was still the same every single time. You’d never pulled the same exact card three times. All at once, things pulled together—the overwhelming sense of evil, the human host, the numerology, the way it sucked up death like a goddamn sponge—no survivors, it’d said on the EVP. Holy shit.

You were dialing Dean’s number the second you set the card down. He answered on the second ring, and spoke at the exact same time as you—

“It’s a demon."

Underneath the illustration were two blemished words. The Devil.

-

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looouou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoonn

NEXT PART: phantom traveler, p.3.

[softpinkpomegranate]

☆ Hi! I’m Nareh! An Armenian Jewish Israeli, who is religiously Christian.

- Before you question about the Christian part, I am NOT messianic, if I’m being honest I have really very little idea of what that is. I was just born to a secular Jewish dad, and Armenian Christian mother.

☆ I created this blog to mostly talk about all my options and stuff, including about i/p, and before anyone comes up here pro Israel or pro Palestine, I am not a Zionist!

☆ I literally love yapping and conversation, so please talk to me as much as possible, even if you don’t agree!

☆ Some fun facts about me!

- I am a huge Taylor Swift fan! Actually for my Hebrew birthday this year my grandfather got me tickets to see her in london!

- I can speak Armenian, like most Armenians here, and my family tries to visit Armenia at least twice a year.

- I really want to go into journalism or linguistics. I know those are two very different things, but I love them both lol.

- My name means color of pomegranate. My mother really loves pomegranates, hence the name.

- I don’t know what much else to say, but if I find anything I’ll update this pinned post!

More about my Jewish/Christian identity, and a bit of politics:

So I was born to a secular Jewish father, who comes from a religious non Zionist family, who lives in Israel because they were pushed out of Sryia. My mother comes from a Christian Armenian family, that is only in the Levant after having to escape the Armenian Genocide.

My grandparents on my father side are pretty religious, while they don’t completely define themselves into a sect of Judaism, I would say they are closest to conservative, with a bit of orthodox. My grandparents also don’t consider themselves Zionists, now they don’t consider themselves anti Zionist, they just aren’t Zionist.

Now you might be wondering about if I’m actually Jewish or not. People around me, or at least closest to me, mostly my grandparents and father have. And I haven’t really felt any different, I do understand that some people have a closer connection than me and I’m not going to argue with that. But I also want people to understand that I have participated in Jewish, not to the extent some have but I have had Shabbat dinners with my grandparents, I’ve attended services, I’ve gone to a couple high holy day services. All of this is with my grandparents by the way.

That’s about all I can say about my identity for now, but I’m willing to talk about to anyone about it! But only if it’s in good faith. I don’t owe you a genuine conversation or respect if you can’t extend the same to me.

[fandomloverangel]

Socialization outside of Tumblr

Hello! I have gone ahead and revived my old server I made for this purpose a year or two ago, as it is looking more and more likely that Tumblr is going to be going down/being archived sometime in the next few years. Or at the very least, stop being updated/fixed. Sites go down all the time, it is inevitable. As much as people tell you the internet is forever, that is not always the case. Most of the time, we don't have as much notice as we do now.

Server LINK (fixed!): https://discord.gg/stzhwdD6pW

This is so that people who only know where to find their mutuals on Tumblr, can have access to their other accounts to continue communication if the need arises and the site goes down. Please do keep in mind that this server is still very much in-progress, as we/I figure out what works and what doesn't.

https://www.tumblr.com/cassieoh/733461197472595968?source=share

The above tumblr link is a link to a post on how to download your blog if you would like to do so.

https://www.tumblr.com/dip-the-pip/733567497762127872?source=share

The above link has some more options for moving, and the reblog itself details a bit about the whole situation.

The below link is an interview with the CEO of Automattic, the company that owns Tumblr. He answers a lot of questions that people have been wondering about. Like I said, it's not getting completely shutdown, but they aren't generating the revenue needed.

I will add more accurate information to this post as I learn more.

Previous pinned post about my Minecraft server: https://www.tumblr.com/fandomloverangel/729938908794814464/new-post-with-accurate-numbers-hi-trying-to-find?source=share

[ask-sarah-and-co]

hey yall !!!

“Sarah did you forget this blog ??? and/or die ??”

nope. just had New Blog Syndrome™️. and a bit of art burnout. and a very very strong hyperfixation on a certain game (that’ll remain unnamed bc I WILL start talking abt it) . but I’m back (ish) !

idk if you’ve noticed, but I kinda rethemed the blog ! the pinned post and all posts linked in it have been hit with my sparkle beam (and also updated a bit) !

I’ll prob open pkmn scarvi for the first time in forever and take the proper screenshots for the backgrounds ! so maybe expect more of the sillies soon !

uhh thanks for reading and sticking w me !! ily guys 🫶/p

-mod sarah

[13tter]

AVATAR TWOW RECS

⭑ i am no longer updating this anymore !

⭑ im keeping this pinned until i make a new recs post

⭑ i read sfw & nsfw works . . . mdni with nsfw works

⭑ dont forget to send much love to all these authors :P

please note that some of these works have heavy topics: read the warnings b4 u read plspls

[❕] nsfw / smut ,, [🩹] suggestive ,, [🗯] angst ,, [☃️] fluff ,, [🐰] personal faves

➷ loverboy #1 neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan

all for you , part two ✶ 30.2k, e2l, grumpy x sunshine ⊹ 🗯☃️

When Quaritch attacks the Ta’unui water clan looking for Jake Sully, the clan’s Tsahik forces her younger sister, Y/N, to escape and seek refuge from the Metkayina clan. As Y/N deals with the trauma of losing her home, she discovers that she isn’t the only outlander in the village. She develops conflicted feelings for Neteyam but the tensions grow when Y/N finds out that Neteyam is the son of Jake Sully - the man she hates. 

worthy pt 2 ✶ 4.3k, aged up ⊹ 🗯☃️ [❕]

You and Neteyam argued before he left for his 3-day hunt. After he arrived back to the reef, he discovered you were never waiting for him. He finds you unbraiding your hair near a tide pool and decides to offer his help.

🐰 soft as clouds ✶ 6.3k, non wellknown!reader, wingwoman baby tukie ! ⊹ ☃️

You weren't well known in the clan, and when you become friends with Tuk, no one believes her.

hide and peak ✶ 3.5k, aged up, mates, sub teyam, exhibition ⊹ 🗯☃️ [❕]

Neteyam is oblivious to flirting from other females. so, reader decides to make it a point to show everyone neteyam's is theirs.

quiet love ✶ 6.3k, insecure!reader ⊹ 🗯☃️

You didn’t see the way Neteyam was longing for you, too caught up in why it was impossible anyway. But he was insistent that you were the one he wanted. 

how they would react to you dressing up for them (hcs) ✶ 1.7k, aged up ⊹ ☃️🩹

NETEYAM - already compliments you everyday, like smothers you in them to the point where it’s more common than hearing your name. he can’t get enough of you. the biggest smile comes onto his face when he sees you, immediately forgetting how tired he had been from his responsibilities earlier. you’re like a breath of fresh air to him and he can’t believe how lucky he got with you.

uncomfortable ✶ 1.7k, aged up, lil bit of jealousy ⊹ 🗯☃️

Being a hunter provided you with so much purpose. You provided food, safety, pelts, strength and everything in-between to your clan. And in turn they provided you with love and support. You had felt this way since you were eighteen and finished the rites of the hunter, since you technically became an Omaticayan woman. Being a spoter in the war party provided you so much more. You felt adrenaline, you felt responsible for all your brothers and sisters in the fight. You felt like you were personally making a difference against the enemy. And besides, by taking this life path you were able to meet your best friend. 

🐰 me and you pt 2 ✶ 3k, aged up, teyam is so attractive here ⊹ ☃️ [❕]

no summary provided — but trust me when i say this is the hottest thing i've read all year. reader & teyam's banter is unmatched and they're so cute.

do you still love me? ✶ 2k, aged up, argument, misunderstanding-ish ⊹ 🗯☃️

You and Neteyam’s family has stayed the same for many years, only one daughter who was now 4. But you fear that Neteyam doesn’t want more, scared he had fallen out of love with you after the birth.

fix me ✶ 4.1k, mentions of blood, made by one of my fav people on here ⊹ ☃️

no summary provided — trusttttttt me, she never disappoints !!!!!! this fulfilled everything i have ever wished for and man i love reading charas in love.

different ✶ 4.9k, TUKIE !!!! my babie taking my heart again, a bit of rude remarks towards reader :(, loved the idea of half omatikaya & half metkayina ⊹ 🗯☃️

Request — Hiii Do you write for Avatar? Could you do something where reader is both omatikayan and metkayina (mixed) and she’s living with the metkayina when the Sully family comes? Maybe do a slow burn between reader and Neteyam? The rest is up to you!

(new!) 🐰 human stuff ✶ 2.3k, human!reader, revolves around readers' period, HE GETS FED CHIPS. hope that says enough thank yew ⊹ ☃️

the one where a confused na’vi teenager tries to comfort his human friend while she’s on her period.

➷ loverboy #2 lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan

the moon, the stars and his life ✶ 2.4k, aged up, possesive/jealous lo'ak ⊹ [❕]

Lo‘ak didn’t know what he did to deserve such a blessing in the shape of you. Did he even deserve it? He doubts it. You were just so perfect, from the top of your head to your cute little toes and the tip of your tail. Perfect. Which is why it hurts even more, to hear those Metkayina boys talk about him like this to you...

brat ✶ 2.7k, aged up, mean dom!lo'ak ⊹ [❕]

Lo'ak is a brat tamer, what can I say?

(new!) 🐰 reckless (but helpful) ✶ 2.4k, OLDER SISTER READER OHMYGOODDODFDF, shes so badass ugh im in love, loak is so enthusiastic its so cute seeing him not being scolded by his parents (smh i hate that he does) ⊹ ☃️

three avatars dead, one injured big sister, and two angry parents waiting at home. what could go wrong?

➷ lovers #3 sully family

the sully's stick together ✶ 3.2k, hurt/comfort, i need to be a sully NOW ⊹ 🗯☃️

becoming one with the metkayina’s has not been an easy task. as everyone continues to settle in their own ways, your family begins to grow more worried about your well-being. this isn’t the sully they know. you’re withdrawn, and quiet. what better way to fix that than to seek you out when you least expect it?

too late ✶ 3.6k, reader is 6 feet under , suicidal thoughts + actual suicide ⊹ 🗯

they loved you when it was too late. 

parts of my heart ✶ 2.3k, mama neytiri T_T, ofcourse my tukie is here ⊹ ☃️

A look at the Sully children through the loving eyes of Neytiri, and how you as the oldest daughter fit into this puzzle piece. Also a slight rediscovery of Neytiri and Jake’s relationship after the war cause it’s not talked about enough.

by the time you're hearing this i'll already be gone ✶ 4.9k, bittersweet ending ⊹ 🗯☃️

all you wanted was to not be the family disappointment.

(new!) 🐰 when the time comes , part two ✶ 6 / 7.5k, theres war and violence, YN HAS A LOVE INTEREST ANDHES SOOO CUTE OMD !! he has a lil dickhead slip up tho but it gets fixed <3 ⊹ 🗯☃️

1: IN WHICH the future Tsahik of the Omaticaya and oldest daughter of Jake and Neytiri, Y/N has always carried the heavy weight of future duties. Her trouble making antics can only aggravate her relationship her family...and somehow drive her to meet a certain grumpy Omaticayan.

2: IN WHICH the humans come for your father’s neck again, as you and your family fight alongside him. When the sky people come back to destroy Pandora again, will you be able to save your family and potential lover?

[kurain-genealogy]

I don't keep up with fnaf drama but I'm nosy, what happened if I might ask?

ok umm. so. 2 separate situations, one of which was speedran.

first, The Talbert Files

this is something that was first discovered about a year ago apparently (i wasn't aware), but popped up again more prominently in the last few days.

basically, the talbert files is a community nickname given for a very very early draft of the freddy files that was leaked. entom on twitter, a reliable source for book leaks in particular, saw it, and several of his friends/other prominent names in the fnaftwt community apparently also saw it ("the talbert group").

i don't know the exact timeline of when or how things happened, but it recently was brought up again, i think some of it leaked or something, and everyone who had been in the know about the talbert files vehemently claimed that it was their group fanfiction, it was just something between friends and wasn't real.

then like a day later someone leaked/posted their dms (without permission) with entom that basically confirmed the talbert files were real. the talbert group relented and admitted it was real.

entom's dms getting leaked + receiving harassment caused him to deactivate their account

a pdf that described the books contents started going around, and it's filled with some CRAZY stuff. it begins with an email sent to scott cawthon about the leak and what they should do with it - he explained that it's essentially a bunch of ideas rather than a coherent story, it was obviously scrapped, and they can do what they want with it (when it comes to making it public or not). actual lore contents of the book include the MCI kids' last names, phone guy's name, michael afton originally being the stitchwraith, cassidy being both the puppet and golden freddy somehow, and a bunch more. it is basically all outdated and None of it should be considered canon. you can check it out here if you want

so because it felt basically confirmed, people were talking about it. but then scott cawthon makes some comments, and then an official post on reddit, saying that it's fake.

cue the talbert group on twitter losing their SHIT and doubling down on it being real, and that scott is either lying or Forgot or something. like all of them are so diehard on this that i can't believe they're lying? so all in all it's been settled that they're fake via word of god, but i still have some doubt because. what is this situation???

TL;DR: scrapped book draft leaked, those who knew about it insisted it was fanfiction in a cia type coverup, dms leak confirming they're real, it's the talk of the town for a bit, then scott cawthon makes a statement that they're actually fake, but fanfic-coverup group insists they were real the whole time.

meanwhile...

the PinkyPills situation

pinkypills is an artist that has been doing official work for fnaf for YEARS (all of the freddy in space games visuals, the silver eyes graphic novel, a handful of book covers for FF/TFTPP such as tiger rock).

she has a number of allegations towards her that i won't go into, but you can read it all here (ranges from p/doish weirdness to art tracing to generally being a whiny weirdo bitch). the freddit mods wrote up this whole thing and pinned the thread. several times the community has rallied to try to get her fired.

following scott's statement on the talbert files situation, several people were annoyed that he addressed that within a few days, but nothing about pinkypills.

like an hour later, he makes a post addressing it. basically saying like "idk the full extent but she deserves a second chance ok." got downvoted to hell

another hour passes. pinkypills posts this to twitter:

so she suddenly is resigning herself ? lmao. she also posted a vid on twitter where she is/was crying

then scott posts an update on reddit saying basically the same thing, that she chose to step away.

the timing makes it seem like he did indeed ask/tell her to not. be involved anymore. but who's to say.

regardless, people are happy she's gone, but extremely disappointed in how scott handled everything (seemingly not looking into things before posting, maybe not being entirely truthful, not outwardly condemning a p/do weirdo that works for him even tho he's done that Before, whatever)

and just a few months ago there was another drama thing where someone on reddit posted screenshots and very real looking screen recordings of an email with scott that basically confirmed talesgames and stitchlinegames. the community was On Fire for a bit until scott showed up to make comments like "guys, that wasn't fucking me." but then when asked about the canonicity of the books he gave another "Yes" ass answer that isn't an answer at all, and that kept people arguing for another few days.

[phoenixtakaramono]

Question, so how are things with the A prince and his baron given what we have seen of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva boss? Are you planning to continue it, rewritting it according to what we've seen in both shows or just its gonna stay like that? No pressure to answer and of course its your story after all so you get to decide what to do with it

Hullo, anon! I’m happy to answer any questions for any of my WIPs. 💞 Regarding A Prince and His Baron and its status:

Question, so how are things with the A prince and his baron given what we have seen of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva boss?

It’s still waiting its turn! Because I’m a multi-WIP writer across several fandoms, just so it’s fair to everyone who’s been patiently waiting for whichever fic it is from me, I’m responsibly going down the masterlist of story updates (which I’d pinned on my tumblr). The schedule was intended to be rotational, so I’m trying to stick to updating 1 chapter per story going down the list before circling back to the top. So unless I get hit by a strong burst of inspiration, P&B ch5 should be updated after The Untold Tale ch6. So keep an eye out for that! A key hint, the content on my tumblr blog & twitter usually reflects which fandom I’m working on that corresponds to the WIP currently being updated. So if I start posting/tweeting a lotta Hellaverse stuff, y’know I’m working on P&B. Once it’s P&B’s turn, I’ll be posting more chapter sneak peeks. ;)

I don’t remember if I ever tweeted it or posted a sneak peek here—it might’ve been buried underneath my threadfic updates for another fandom—but after watching Hazbin Hotel S1, I felt a lil inspired and broke my rule of usually hardcore immersing & pigeonholing myself to the fandom of whichever WIP I’m working on (which is currently Truce ch3). I sneakily wrote a bit of P&B ch5 based on what I’d seen and tweeted/posted a sneak peek of what I added to the upcoming P&B chapter. But in case my memory exists in delulu land, haha, here are some screenshots from the Google Doc itself 🤫:

This is during the time when I wrote a short Chaggie threadfic (tumblr / twitter) and broke out my ol’ tablet to draw a shippy Chaggie fanart as a watcher enthusiastically celebrating the show airing, haha. P&B might not be ready yet but this was my small way to show support. And y'all can thank the 2024 Hellaverse Collab artists project for getting me in the mood to make my next 900 followers celebration illustration involving Vox and Alastor (it's a bit special to me because it's my first time illustrating Alastor and, y'all don't know this, but I'd liked Alastor from the pilot ep, which was what led into getting into Helluva Boss and later to me creating P&B in the first place as a fan's small contribution, to show my support for the creator's landmark creative endeavor).

Are you planning to continue it, rewriting it according to what we've seen in both shows or just its gonna stay like that?

It's still being continued! And it is definitely going to stay as it is, ah. No rewrites! Fortunately we only have 4 chapters so far so I didn't have to change much to be honest, of the few things I'm willing to change.

I'd answered an Ask regarding this awhile back (you'd have to comb through my Tags Masterlist) but the tl;dr is: Given what I've seen thus far, I'm going to be taking inspirations from both shows and ignoring certain canon things (like the mystery about Lilith being gone and Eve possibly having impersonated her (I already wrote that Lilith helped write the royal invitation to Blitzø in P&B so…whelp, sorry, but I’m not changing what’s already written especially because there is a huge chunk of paragraphs solely dedicated to it) as well as Blitzø’s and Stolas’ childhood friends aspect, because that contradicts the entire driving force of the fish-out-of-water meet cute in my story where they meet in the prologue as complete strangers—and we'll see them fall in love with each other as the story proceeds despite the political machinations of Hell's upper crust society and the challenges awaiting them). It's the reason why I made A Prince and His Baron into an AU to be safe; this way, once something later revealed to be canon contradicts what's written in the story, it's an AU. So it's fine. Otherwise, and I'm being honest, I get demotivated to continue a fic if I face the herculean task of...like, having to change details across 15 chapters just so it's canon accurate. I don't have the time for that. For small changes though, like the pilot surname of "Magne" changing to Amazon Prime confirmed "Morningstar" surname, that's fine. It's just a matter of pressing Crtl+F and doesn't require a HUGE rewrite. :)

The way I want y'all to think, going into P&B, it's an Alternate Universe. If there are any references to canon, like all my WIPs that are AU in concept, those are lil canon Easter Eggs I sprinkle in for funsies. And anything not canon (like Stolas being a wee more debonair/ manipulative and politically savvy in my fic (Blitz's first impression), but behind that Stolas is still a bookish, sweet and dorky royal gentleman as Blitz will come to find...so that's a wee closer to the Stolas in canon), my veering away from canon is done on purpose to tell a story. So, y'all, don't come at me if something's not canon in A Prince and His Baron, haha. I can't read Viv's and HB writers' minds! The most I can do is try to keep up to date with the kernels the Spindelhorse team mention on Twitter, and keep up with both shows to see the direction they're going in (this way I can borrow canon characters instead of creating OCs and I can get a more accurate grasp on their personalities instead of guessing due to the lack of material at the time).

I'll be excited to be back and continue P&B once we get to its turn! Boy, do I miss that world. And, boy, do I have so many exciting things I want to share with y'all.