#:gun: look at my post dammit

[arcanaaa]

ALSO LET'S BE PERFECTLY CLEAR, Cana does not inappropriately grope or touch anyone without prior consent or permission. She of all people would know how it feels to be touched without consent, so it wouldn't make sense for Cana to go around groping others.

And even if it were permissible, Cana wouldn't be gross or lewd just for the sake of her own amusement, she picks up on when someone is uncomfortable and backs off, period. It pisses me off that Mashima makes sexual harassment into a norm and it will not be part of my canon. I though I had reblogged a post about this from my archive but im reiterating it for the record.

clenches my fucking fist I am being so serious when I say that Cana is touch starved. I think about how she only had a few years to be held by Cornelia, where she received all of the love that a mother could give her child, only to have it suddenly ripped away from her is such a shock to her system. And to come to Fairy Tail and be surrounded by adults who would have no reason to give her the affection and love she needs ( not to mention the one person who would have been capable of providing what she needed but never knew her relation to them :))) lol ) is another sort of devastation.

Thinking about how she was denied that connection until the other kids begin to join Fairy Tail and at first, she doesn't approach them for the comfort she seeks. Asking for a hug or to hold hands is tentative and embarrassing! But finding the words to ask is clumsy at best, and downright mortifying at worst. But somehow the sentiment comes across: Gray would be the first to understand her language and while I feel he wouldn't immediately reciprocate, in time he would adapt and accommodate in his own way. Mira and the Strauss siblings are far more receptive, especially Mira, whom they grow close as sisters and seek comfort in each other freely.

There are unfortunate instances where she doesn't want any physical contact, in a lot of cases it being when a vision 'attack' takes over and she has made it clear that she does not like to be touched. Unfortunately, Cana's boundaries are disrespected-- by others, by strangers, by men-- and that ruins any chance for her to grow closer to anyone physically due to that trust being broken. As Cana becomes older, she would end up becoming withdrawn but the starvation never abates. Luckily the people she trusts the most consistently show her that her autonomy deserves to be respected, even with the addition of Loke becoming part of Cana's inner circle, their consistent demonstration of giving her space to decide on her own terms when she wants to receive physical affection in invaluable to Cana. Over time however, she becomes much more comfortable being openly affectionate and demonstrates it in casual ways: leaning into someone or against their body, a hand placement on someone's body such as their shoulder, arm, wrist, or hand; hugging someone, whether from the front or behind, or even just comradery gestures like fist bumps, handshakes, hand slaps, back slaps, etc., are a form of affection she'll give.

[amphitriteswife]

Questions

Source: lookism

Pairing: Jonggun x yapper reader

Disclaimer: shit post. And its short asf

.

.

.

‘Hey!’ Jonggun turned to you, his right hand still holding the cigarette he was smoking outside your workplace. Judging from his face he probably didn’t have a good work day, but oh well. What to do about it now? He was already fed up by the fact his meeting with hostel went rather….differently than he expected. And to top it off, Goo also thought it would be a good idea to ambush him after the fight with Eli which caused him to look quite fucked up. ‘I like you better like this. You actually look your age.’ Gun continued to smoke his cigarette, only letting out a sigh of annoyance when he felt you mess up his hair even more. Half of his hair was now hanging over his eyes as he pushed away your hand which caused you to scoff at him before you switched up again to your yapper self. ‘I saw your baby pictures. You looked pregnant.’ Jonggun stopped mid drag and looked at you a little startled. First of all, how did you get baby pictures? Second of all why are you telling him he looked pregnant?? His throat burned by the smoke that was currently residing in it which caused him to cough a little. ‘See? I told you to stop smoking. You’re nearing your expiration date soon grandpa.’ You told him while patting his back a little. ‘I’m extra careful so that i wont injure your back gramps.’ Jonggun’s face tightened and he let out a few more coughs before he cleared his throat. ‘If you ever say that shit again you’ll lose your teeth.’ He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before putting the cigarette back into his mouth. Slowly inhaling the smoke again. You’re making him stress you know that? ‘Have you ever realized how you’re technically out your dad’s balls?’ Jonggun face palmed. Why? Why are you doing this? He’s so frustrated and so fed up with everything. ‘You’re so annoying.’ ‘Like, you actually lived in his sack.’ You’re not even listening to him dammit! He’s going to lose it. He swears he’ll start hitting you if you don’t shut up.

‘Stop.’ ‘Like you were swimming in there like as if it’s a pool party-’ ‘I SAID SHUT UP. You talk so much. As in a lot. As in you’re a full chatterbox. You can’t keep your mouth shut, i’m telling you i’m having a rough day and you keep on blabbing and blabbing. I’m so fucking done.’ Jonggun dropped his almost finished cigarette to the ground and put it out my stomping on it before he walked away. You just stared at him and then hopped on one of the benches, slowly watching as he came at a halt a few meters away from you. You could see him contemplating something before he turned to you once again. ‘Can you drive me back home?’

——————————————————————————

Gun didn’t have a driver license back then stated by goo when jonggun broke his arm

[thatdeadaquarius]

Okay so-- i was reading some sagau posts and came across this one where the reader was an army vet and my brain just Did Its Thing--

So now I'm here to inflict this on to you--

Would guns be considered as catalysts. And would they only do Phys Damage.

Me reading this ask:

😶 😐 🤨 🧐 🧐 😰 🥲 😭😭😭 💀

STOP YOU'VE INFLICTED ME WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL DMG FROM THIS ASK 😭

(Also srry took so long to respond, when i didnt realize how short this was/was just sitting over here 😓)

^ For the sake of gun imagery being a lot/maybe staff might hate me for it,

we'll put this gay shit instead (i almost mispelled to "gay shot" lmao)

☆

Sun: Army Veteran Reader, Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT Headcanons

Stars: everybody bc i think itd be funny

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: gun stuff, mild violence, mild cursing & Trigger Warnings: Gun fun everywhere

THIS ASK HAS ME GIGGLING TO MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC

You're out here having a whole gun they let you take for off-base

And u ofc have a license so u can conceal carry

(idk how non-american gun laws work, but tbh ours are so fucked idk how they work here either, just that an army guy i knew once could have his gun when he got back home)

And ofc ur just paranoid enough (more like it just makes u feel safe)

That when u get yoinked into a portal to a silly little brightly colored gacha game fantasy world, the gun comes with 💀

Id like to add in my silly little "ur in a video game, so video game rules" AU version of genshin so:

The only other gun (ish) wielder (Mika) has unlimited bolts

Sooo I'd think your gun would be the same jfc lol

NO BC YOUD SCARE THE ACTUAL SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE IN UR VICINITY IN A BATTLE

BC GUNSHOTS ARE A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LOUD

When u first stumble into abyss monsters/hostile creatures of the realm, u nearly scare off a Lawlachurl bc every shot's like thunder to these bitches😭

So not only the monsters but the vision holders think u fucking summoned lightning

OMG THE BULLETS ARE SO FAST THEYD PROBABLY NOT SEE IT

ESP BC DISTRACTED BY GUNSHOT LOUDNESS

SO U AIM THIS LITTLE BLACK CROSSBOW (???) AND THINGS JUST DIE (OR GET RIDDLED WITH HOLES) WITH NO CLEAR ARROW STICKING OUT

STOPP- you're becoming a witchy god or smth to all of Teyvat bc it just looks like hella high level magic atp to them LMAOOO

Rumors of you get out of hand and say u just point or snap ur fingers and things get wounded/just die on the spot 💀

Oh another difference between Teyvatians seeing ur gun vs. crossbow (what they know)

Is that guns are wayyyy more destructive

Like an arrow would get shot but it'd bounce off of things like rock or wood or metal, maybe dent a little depending on how close

But a bullet goes thru that shit so easy, and leaves a whole little explosion behind, once again depending on range

(I once saw a Mythbusters episode? of them proving bullets would definitely go thru car doors, like movies lied to u, this is why drive-bys acc work like for gangs)

Lmao, the image of you in like full armor with a Teyvat made automatic gun after showing it to blacksmiths

Makes u just more convincing as a god, esp bc military training

(Ppl like Gorou and Kokomi begging for military tactics/training ur world has done)

...

....Ok.

I'll address it.

But only so u dont think im stupid later.

Yes, the Fatui have guns.

No, this not the same as having a glock LMAO

End of story.

(Also, urs runs on bullets, whereas the Fatui rely on magic/delusions to power theirs, plus they dont seem as fast or destructive as urs, more "explosions aimed at you" than real bullets)

Which,,, u leave the managing of ppl copying ur gun to ppl like the Qixing or smth, but make sure to give them advice on good gun laws if teyvat accidentally revolutionizes bc of ur advanced gun that anybody can wield (non-vision users)

Thats the best ive got abt that

Oh, also enjoy being praised as a War god now.

:)

☆

... dammit i had smth i was gonna tell u guys-

Uh what tf was it, it was important

OH

Next post is the Eldritch God Oneshot! Look out for it :) !!

☆

Safe Travels Kid,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

‘Gun Play’ & ‘Fear Play’ w/ Scarecrow (for Kinktober 2024)

Title: take this gun and cock it

Rating: Mature 

Fandom: Batman Trilogy (Nolanverse) 

Characters: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow); Female Reader Insert

Pairing: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)/Female Reader 

Summary: You knew you shouldn’t have put Dr. Crane on your dissertation committee, but he had the most pull in the Neuropharmacology world in and around Gotham. If you wanted to make a name for yourself in this profession, you’d need to get on his good side. After several passive-aggressive meetings with said professor, you decide enough is enough. If research and academia won’t show him, you will. So one afternoon, you walk into his private office intending to once and for all, prove to your Professor that pleasure is just as great, if not superior, of a motivator as fear. [Warning: Reader is high-key insane in this, like, almost as nuts as Crane. But be aware, this is a dark fic with very unequal power dynamics at play.] 

Trigger Warning(s): Gunplay; Drugging; Threats of Violence; Implied Sex; Dubious Consent (due to the whole pointing a gun at him thing); Very Unsafe Firearm Practices (that would probably get this fic sponsored by the NRA); [Lowkey] Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

A/N: Here it is- my first-ever attempt at participating in Kinktober! So please go easy on me. 

♔☍☣ ♔☍☣♔☍☣ ♔☍☣

“Knock, knock.” Poking your head into Dr. Professor Crane’s doorway, you flashed your teacher a cunning smile. “Got a sec?” 

Not bothering to look up from his paperwork, Dr. Professor Crane’s answer was detached as per his usual. 

“Office hours are posted on the door. If you must speak with me,” Jonathan sighed, tired of the frequent idiotic interruptions from fatuous students, “Sign up for a time slot. I don’t accept walk-ins.”  

You playfully pouted, your recently glossed lips pursing into the shape of a frown. 

“Surely that doesn’t include me? Especially since… I brought you coffee!” 

Upon hearing your oddly chipper voice, Dr. Crane looked up, a perturbed expression on his face. 

You waited silently as he sized you up, your gleeful exterior not shirking under his ice-blue gaze. 

“Come in,” Crane finally settled on, the fresh coffee too tempting of an opportunity to pass up. 

“One large black coffee, regular, just how you like it.” 

You held out the beverage for him to take, blinking impatiently as he ignored your physical presence and instead went back to reading. With a roll of your eyes, you placed the styrofoam cup at the top of his desk. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you delved into the matter. 

“So, uh, Dr. Professor Crane,” you started, “I wanted to speak to you about my upcoming thesis defense—” 

“Mhm-hm,” Crane mumbled, already having written off the remainder of this interaction. 

“Well, I was wondering if—” 

“No.” 

“I’m, I’m sorry?” 

“I don’t give extensions. If you wanted to become a Doctor you should have thought of the effort required before applying to this program.” 

You couldn’t help but sputter at the bastard’s words. Did he honestly think you were here to grovel before him? To get on your hands and knees and beg for an extension?! Oh, how rich! 

After all the hoops you’ve jumped through, after all the changes and additional inclusions you made solely for his approval, for his benefit, did he truly think you had any intention of doing one more single thing he asked? 

‘Oh no. Oh no, no, no,’ you thought. ‘I’m not the one that’s going to leave this office begging.’ 

You knew you needed his support for there to be unanimous approval from your dissertation committee concerning your upcoming thesis defense next week. And you knew from all the previous horror stories you’d heard through the Gotham University grapevine that in most cases, Crane was often students’ one stubborn holdout. 

You knew you shouldn’t have picked him to be your dissertation advisor. But dammit, he was the best in the field of Neuropharmacology, so you figured you’d just suck it up and get on his good side. The only problem was, the man didn’t seem to have a good side!

Every semester, every class with him was like pulling teeth: torturously slow and agonizingly painful. You worked your ass off, day and night, working full-time while juggling a full course load only to be demeaned and nitpicked every chance he got. You were consistently the best in your class, and yet not once did Dr. Crane ever offer an encouraging word or a simple ‘great work’. But oh boy, did he have tons to say the second you’d make one teeny-tiny mistake. 

It made your blood boil. 

And the man simply would not shut the hell up about fear!

Fear, fear, fear, fear— it’s all he ever enjoyed lecturing about! It was obsessive! It had to be. 

The way his fascination with fear and adrenaline would pervade their way into other topic discussions, so you wound up responsible for teaching yourself his lesson material nearly half the time. You swore he talked about fear so much, that some of your fellow students ended up having fear-induced psychotic breaks themselves! 

At least, that’s what you used to think. 

After a particularly harsh meeting with Dr. Crane, your adversarial thesis advisor, you ran into a fellow Psychology student as you entered the bathroom. Seeing your tearful expression and feeling concerned for your well-being, they cautioned you against working too closely with Crane any further. Confused, you wiped the tears and snot off your face and asked for them to clarify what they meant. 

Apparently, someone, they weren’t sure who— probably a former flunkee student— started the vicious rumor that Crane was using his students as guinea pigs to conduct unauthorized experiments surrounding fear, and the nervous system’s fear response. 

She said that several students had reported leaving lectures feeling nauseous, and unexpectedly anxious. Of course, it could have just been the grotesque nature of the material or the fact that Dr. Crane was a frightening teacher to perform for, but some of them had sworn they must've been hit with something inside his classroom. 

It all sounded so farfetched, like the B-plot to a bad sci-fi movie. It couldn’t possibly be true. But then, the reality of your past experiences in his lectures came crashing down onto you like a tidal wave. 

You were always so worked up, so angry when you left his lectures. You had just assumed it was because you found the man infuriating but what if… 

‘What if,’ your mind supplied, ‘What if your anger, your elevated heart rate— what if all of it, was your nervous system’s fight or flight response having been activated by some secret drug?’ 

That’s when it all fell into place. It was like your blinders had been ripped off, exposing you, in an instant, to the harsh reality: 

Your Professor, Dr. Jonathan Crane had spent the last few years drugging you, and getting away with it. 

You didn’t know what pissed you off more, the fact that he used you as a lab rat or the fact that this little ongoing experiment of his was most likely the reason behind why he had such dissent for your thesis. 

Your entire argument was that, as far as human motivators go, pleasure and reward had a much stronger influence compared to the fear of pain or punishment. 

But of course! 

It made sense that Dr. Crane took issue with that stance when his entire ideology revolved around how fear, not pleasure, not reward, ruled the mind above all else. 

The cherry on top was that your unknowing participation in his sick game only further proved his point: your anger, triggered by your fear of failure, had driven you to work as hard as you did. No wonder he was so eager to criticize your manuscript! Every single time he watched your nostrils flare and your lips purse, he would know his theory was being proven right. 

Well… not this time. Oh, no. This time, you were going to be the one pulling the strings and he was going to be the little white mouse, wondering which fork in the maze to take. 

Was it risky? Oh, for sure. He could have you kicked out of the program, hell probably even arrested and tried for assault. But you just couldn’t curb your desire to do to him what he spent all those years doing to you. You wanted to watch him squirm, wanted to see his pupils blown, and his irises thin as his trembling figure begged for release from your experimental ministrations. 

Who knows? Maybe all that medication he’d been slipping you had made you mad. 

It was his fault, really. As a psychologist, he should have seen this coming. 

Tut tut. 

Oh, well! There was nothing he could do now. Not at the moment anyway. 

Seated across from where you stood looking over his desk, Dr. Crane may not have known it, but he’d handed you the reins to the experimental controls long ago. From the second he started dosing you, this prognosis was inevitable. 

It was like he always said: “The mind could only take so much.” 

You walked around to the side of his desk, blocking his view of the door and the hall outside. 

‘How cute,’ You thought. How cute how he pretended not to notice the change in your position, nor be intimidated by it. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, demanding his attention. “As I was saying, Professor,” you intentionally skipped his other title, “I need to speak with you a minute.” 

Brows furrowing, Dr. Crane momentarily took off his glasses before rubbing his forehead trying to relieve some of the building tension. Unsuccessful in the attempt, Crane placed his rectangular glasses back on the bridge of his nose and turned his attention back to you. 

The deprecatory nature of his stare combined with his piercing light blue eyes had the opposite effect. If you hadn’t learned the true nature of his psyche, you might have once again been intimidated by them. Rather than unnerve you, they made him appear susceptible. It was too late. You saw him for what he was now: a coward. 

It was… appetizing. 

Behind those frozen irises, behind that steely gaze was a scared little boy, playing dress-up, trying desperately to look stronger and bigger than he was. 

Dr. Jonathan Crane was simply a scared little kid, masked in a psychologist's trench coat. 

And now, you thought it high time to unmask him. 

Ignoring his judgemental gaze, you moved even closer. 

“I’m just trying to understand, Professor.” 

Taking a seat on the corner of his desk, you were very much aware of how your deceptively short pencil skirt pulled taut against your thighs. 

“I think my summation of the available data makes it pretty clear…” 

You shifted all of your weight to one red high-heeled foot. The other you allowed to dangle loosely from where your bent knee met the edge of the professor’s dark oak desk. 

“The brain’s reward center, dopamine— pleasure, is notably a greater motivator than fear.” 

Licking your lips, you couldn't help but watch with wicked delight as the good doctor’s neck tensed, his muscles no doubt straining against the growing, sinful desire to glance downwards at the obvious part between your legs. 

You tilted your dangling heel down, the pointed tip of your shoe grazing ever so slightly, ever so suggestively against your dear mentor’s outer thigh. Gleefully, you wondered if he could pick up the scent of your arousal, the two of you currently less than a foot apart. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Ms. (L/N),” Crane started.

“Come now, Doctor. Surely you, of all people, know that throughout human history, both mentally and physiologically speaking, pleasure has been, at the very least, as influential of a motivator as fear?” 

Your dangly earring shook with the slight tilt of your head. 

“People love to chase what feels good, what excites them, what makes them feel alive! Regardless of whether or not that thing isn’t good for them.” 

Your equally distracting red-manicured fingers began to trace gentle circles around your outer ankle bone, the ends of your nails briefly swiping over the black material of his suit pants. 

“Humans’ desire to feel pleasure wins out over their ability to behave rationally.” 

Professor Dr. Crane swallowed tersely before nodding. 

“I would agree with that statement.” 

Jonathan pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, using the momentum as an inconspicuous opportunity to scooch his chair back, away from your contact. 

“However, I would maintain the argument that fear holds a much more pivotal role in the survival of a species. And is, therefore, much more consequential in its provocations.” 

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips together, obviously only pretending to be deep in thought. 

Across from you, Jonathan’s resentment for your pathetic salacious attempt only grew as he watched your actions morph into something akin to mockery. 

You were his inferior! How dare you question him?!

It was bad enough the university board was breathing down his neck, now he had some pseudo-confident slutty graduate student to contend with as well. 

Oh, you would pay for this. He would make you regret this little attention-whore stunt of yours. Just you wait…

Unfettered by the way Professor Crane’s jaw clenched, you continued your practiced spiel. 

“I can see why you’d champion that. After all, your experiments here are centered around patients' reactions to fearful stimuli.” Unbothered, you checked your manicure before foxily pushing yourself off the desk, your high heels landing with a pointed ‘clack’ sound as they hit the floor. 

“Makes sense why you’d be unable to recognize an opposing, although equally valid theory.” 

“My grading is objective and based entirely on a student’s performance. And for you to imply otherwise—” Professor Crane’s piercing blue eyes stayed confidently fixed on yours.

“But it’s subjective too,” you countered, stepping directly in front of the man. 

“You’re judging my performance on your personal model. A biased model ingrained in you, that your deeply held beliefs reign superior. To you, fear is the end all be all; it’s the cornerstone of human motivation. You can’t accept my performance as worthy or eligible when you're fixated on your own theory. Your superiority complex prevents you from being anything other than subjective as far as my research, my papers— even my very existence in your class is concerned.” 

“It is not a discredit to my insight that you are incapable of seeing the depth of my genius—” Jonathan started to heatedly refute your assessment, but you cut him off. 

Stepping forward, you placed your knee on the edge of his chair, centering it between his own.

“I know about your experiments.” 

You kept your tone low so that only he could hear. 

“I know the board is growing suspicious, thinking of ‘asking’ you to resign.” You said, making air quotes. “I know all about your special ‘cocktail’ the night of the Christmas Eve Party. I know the cops have been sniffing around, and it’s only a matter of time before those inbred idiots start asking that poor girl the right questions.” 

“What do you want?” Jonathan asked, keeping a stiff upper lip. 

Mindful not to alert you to his plan of action, Jonathan remained calm. He could still regain control here. 

The man also known as Scarecrow to his Arkham patients was keenly aware that his briefcase containing his fear gas briefcase and Scarecrow mask was situated just to the left of you, resting inconspicuously on his desk. 

If he could just make a move for it without you becoming wise to his plan. 

‘What are you waiting for?!’ A scratchy, harsh voice inside Jonathon’s mind chided the Doctor for his hesitation. ‘Do it! Show her that fear is our domain, not hers, not hers! It’s time!’

‘It’s always time, isn’t it?’ Jonathan’s much smoother voice commented drearily. ‘Time to run. Time to cower.’ 

Time to just keep his head down and accept the consequences, accept how shameful, how broken he was. 

‘No! No! It’s time to fight back! Time to glower! Time to gloat and rule over those puny imbeciles who’ve done us wrong. We are not afraid! They should be the ones who are afraid! They will be the ones who scream and cry— not us, not us!’ 

He would not release his hold on the situation. He did not scrape by, lie, steal, and torture for his brilliance only to roll over and show his belly to you! The wounded part of him demanded action, demanded sacrifice for these feelings of apprehension you had caused him. 

The psychologist in him, the professional in him was almost impressed, nay, enthralled by your show of dominance. It was both vexing and amusing. It had crept under his skin and sunk its perfectly manicured claws into his chest, reaching in and commanding his heart to beat. 

His heart started to beat faster and his breaths became more and more shallow. 

It was dizzying, intoxicating— arousing even. 

The Scarecrow in him wanted to crush it— to squash you. 

But Jonathon wanted it to keep going— to consume him whole. 

Enjoying his responses so far, you gripped both armrests of his chair, locking him in place. 

“I want to conduct a little experiment of my own.” Your voice was still quiet, still assured. 

“And then you can tell me in real-time which is stronger: pleasure…” 

Releasing one hand from the armrest, you traced a red coffin-nailed finger down Jonathon’s chest, right down the middle of his tie. 

“...Or fear.” 

Feeling cornered by the weight of the unknown, the Scarecrow decided to make his move. 

“If you’re done with this little display here, I have other matters to attend to, much more important than contending with brainless whore students.” He sneered, hoping his icy tone would catch you off guard enough that he could casually push out from under your weight. 

His piercing blue eyes met your determined ones. It seemed you weren’t backing down. 

‘Fine then’, Jonathan thought. ‘If that’s how you wanted to play it’. 

His arm shot out past you, quickly gripping the handle of his briefcase. But before he could tug it open, you decided to play the last card up your sleeve. 

“Not so fast, Doctor,” you reprimanded as if speaking to a child. “It’s not time for that… yet.” 

Frozen, Jonathan’s previously confident eyes shifted into an expression between confusion and fear. Unable to even speak, he couldn't help but look back and forth between where his hand rested on his briefcase handle, and where your hand rested, gripping the barrel of a gun. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” You asked, turning the gun sideways to show off the pearl handle. “My Father gifted it to me when I moved to Gotham for University. Of course, at the time, I thought it was such a silly gift. Just total overkill. And then, I came here,” you waved it around rather casually as you spoke, “And I met you.” 

You laughed, villainously at the memory, bearing your teeth and smiling wickedly at the dumbfounded teacher in front of you. 

“Can I just say? I had never once thought of putting a bullet through a teacher’s head before I met you. God! You were just so, so, infuriating!” You shook your head in amused disbelief. 

“And so arrogant! I mean the number of times you let out a little too much information, all just to insult a student’s inferior answer or to roast a fellow professor.” Your expression became incredulous. “Do you realize how much you told us, all because you thought we were too stupid to understand?!” 

You rhythmically pressed the gun up into his, teasingly punctuating every other word. 

“I mean, come on! Isn’t that Intro to Villany 101? Don’t spill the beans?” 

“You don’t know anything.” The bolder character inside of Professor Crane had found his voice. “You may think you do, but you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“I know enough,” you countered. 

“Not as far as the cops are concerned. Or the faculty board.” His self-assured tone rivaled yours. “Do you really think I don’t have men on the inside?” 

Having recaptured his certitude, The Scarecrow’s signature condescending expression settled back over his face as he craned his neck forward, bringing his mouth mere inches from your own. 

“The minute you tell anyone what you think you know, your life ends— effective immediately.” 

His bravado caused your large canine-baring grin to shrink into a much smaller, reserved one. If Johnathan’s words had scared you, you had no intention of making a big show of it. 

You leaned in, pushing your face close enough to his that you could feel his heated breath on your lips. 

“Guess it’s a good thing then, I don’t intend on telling anyone about this. And neither do you.” 

“Is that so?” The Scarecrow challenged. 

Without warning, you reached out with your free hand, gripping it securely around his throat, and forcibly tilted his head back. Using your newfound leverage you pushed your knee back against his crotch, smirking as you felt the unmistakable outline of his semi-hard cock through his clothes. 

Satisfied that the ball was back in your court, you menacingly lined up the nozzle of your gun with Dr. Crane’s deliciously exposed Adam’s apple. 

“Let’s find out.” 

♔☍☣ ♔☍☣♔☍☣ ♔☍☣

A/N 2.0: So originally I was gonna expand on the sex scene at the end (because of the whole Kinktober thing, duh!) but I ran out of time. Who knows? Maybe I’ll continue it one day if enough people would enjoy it??? Lmk 

[nattyswann]

I’m not that bad. Am I?

Parings: sub!reader x dom!ace

Warnings: not really any warnings because most of this is just bickering between Ace and y/n but there is a bit of smut at the end!

Summary: if there was one thing you absolutely despised, it was pirates. You’ve encountered a few of them and they all were horrible people. Well…except the most recent one you’ve met..

• You can still remember the first time you met him. You hated his guts. Couldn’t stand the way he carried himself and how sweet he was to everyone around him. Well..the truth is you only really hated him cause you knew he was a pirate.

• “Can you guys believe it?! Firefist Ace is in the center of town, fighting a group of bandits!” Now, this you had to see. You followed the group of people. When you finally pushed your way through the large crowd, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Ace was putting those bandits on their asses. He used his crazy devil fruit power to handle them like they were ants. “Are you ready to admit it?”

• The leader of the bandit crew got up but he seemed like he was in rough shape after going a few rounds with Ace. “Screw you!” The bandit yelled out before charging at Ace. “Come on. Have you learned nothing!” Ace yelled back as he sent a Firefist straight at the wicked man. “All I needed you to do was admit that you tried to steal this young lady’s coin bag. This all could have been avoided.” Ace blew the tiny flame from his pointer finger as if it were a gun he just fired.

• The residents of your town cheered for Ace while he tried to make his exit less heroic as possible. “Please.” He held a hand up as he scratched the back of his head. “No need to thank me.” The townspeople continued their joyous cheers and applause. Ace hated this part of saving people. The part where they all surround him to offer him gifts to show their thanks. Ace just wanted to be a good guy and then go on his way.

• Ace got through the people and tried to waved them off but as soon as he turned around, there was a second large group of people. Now this was the part that he LOVED. The part where all the young ladies of the town came to thank him. “That was so heroic! Thank you for saving me.” The woman he defended rubbed his arm as she thanked him. “You are so strong. Where are you from?” Another woman asked while she stroked his long hair. You watched as the women fell head over heals for him. You weren’t like them though. Cause you knew his secret.

• When Ace finally got away from the village and out of sight from everyone he pulled out his log post. “Dammit. How much longer is this gonna take. I can’t stay on this island anymore. I need to set sail.” Just then another young woman approached him. That young woman being you. “Set sail?”

• Ace jumped up when he heard the voice of a woman behind him. He quickly shoved the log post back in his bag and looked over his shoulder to face you. “Oh, hey there.” He flashed you a smile. “What are you doing so far away from your town? Won’t they be upset if your wandering alone?” You didn’t respond as you just glared at him. You didn’t like him and wasn’t gonna fall for his charms like all the other townspeople and helpless damsels. “I know what you are.” You crossed your arms. “You’re a pirate. No better than the dirt on the bottom of my shoe.”

• “Oh? That’s really what you think?” “Yep. Im not sure why you’re even here.” Ace scoffed and his smile quickly went away. “Someone’s daddy raised them with a complex.” You furrowed your eyebrows at his statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” “It means that you think you’re better than me just because I’m a pirate.” Ace put his backpack on and strutted past you to start walking back towards the village. “Where do you think you’re going?”

• “Dont worry about me so much. Im just a lowly pirate after all.”

• Ohhh this guy was grinding your gears. You didn’t wanna allow him to just walk back into town but who were you to try to stop a crazy pirate. He could snap and attack a girl like you. If only you really knew what ace was thinking. He was never gonna hurt you. He would never hurt a women. He actually liked you. Thought you were really pretty.

• A few hours later and nightfall had come. Ace needed a place to settle for the night before he can take off tomorrow morning. He keeps walking throughout the town, in hopes of finding a sign that is welcoming a overnight stay. When he finally arrived at a building that had a sign that said one night there was only 40 berries, he couldn’t pass up that deal. Upon walking in, he got greeted by two women and he gave them a smile before bowing. When he lifted his head, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the face he was seeing. It was you! It was the pretty chick who was all mad at him earlier. Who woulda guessed that her parents owned this inn? Small village, huh?

• Once Ace got his room he began to settle in before hearing a light knock on his door. When he opened it, another smile creeped on his face. “We have got to stop meeting like this.” He said as he leaned on the doorway. “I don’t wanna meet you at all. In any circumstance.” He gave you a confused look while he tilted his head. “Yet…you came to my door..”

• “I work here. I still have a job to do.” You then forced a smile back at him. “Could I get you anything else before you turn in for the night? A glass of water or a snack before bed, perhaps?” You said through your gritted teeth. You couldn’t believe that you had to do this. If anything, you wanted to punch him in his face and curse him out for tricking your parents like their fools. “Mhhh.” He put his finger on his chin as if he were actually thinking. “I could use some company tonight. It gets lonely on the seas. So I haven’t spend the night with a women in a long time.”

• That was it. The last straw that made you snap. You took your hand and slapped it across his face. Ace was clearly caught off guard for a moment but he remained nice and let his smile return to his face. “You’re strong..” The man put a hand over the spot you slapped before continuing. “but I think you misunderstood me. I only want someone to talk too. Nothing more, I promise.”

• You scoffed but then thought about it. This was actually perfect. All you had to do was give him a few minutes of your time and then you ask him for a favor. That favor being to stay away and never return back here. “If I talk with you then you have to promise me that you will pack up and leave by the morning.” You said as you stomped your foot. “So if I promise to leave by the morning, you will stay here and keep me company?” You nodded your head and awaited his answer.

• “Deal.” He opened the door more for you to come inside. “Come in. Let’s talk.”

• You both sat and talked for about ten minutes until ace managed to slip in a compliment that caught you way off guard. You tried to hide the sudden blush that appeared on your face but Ace caught a peak of it.

• “I see ya’ blushing over there.” You hid your face and turned away from the man. “Barely! You must think I’m easy.” “Not at all, hun. I just think you’re really beautiful when you get all shy like that.” He put his elbow on the armrest of the car he sat in and leaned on his the palm of his hand while staring at you. “I also think you’re beautiful when you get all mad at me.”

• You guys sat for longer and just talked and talked about various different things. “This was nice. I surprisingly enjoyed this talk.” You quietly said. “I have been quite lonely and don’t really find much people to talk to besides my parents and the occasional fling. So thank you.” The tension in the room had started heating up way faster than you had expected. For some reason you had started to feel attraction for this pirate. When talking wasn’t enough to smooth the loneliness in each other’s hearts, Ace took it a step further and put a hand on your thigh. “Just know that you don’t have to be lonely all the time.”

• When you felt him reach your skin, you jumped a bit but let him rest his hand there. He was sort of right. You hated sleeping in an empty bed at night. So maybe tonight you didn’t HAVE to be alone. Needless to say, one thing led to another and now he has you right where he wanted you. In his bed with his hands roaming your body. “I can’t believe I’m letting this happen.” You grunted. Ace immediately paused and leaned up. “If you don’t want too then that’s fine. You can leave and I wont follow.” He put his hands up and gave you an opportunity to dip if you changed your mind. When you remained in the bed, Ace smirked and kissed you on the lips. “I knew you wanted me.”

• “Shh. Don’t be too loud, baby.” Fast forward a few minutes later, here Ace was - whispering in your ear while he rocked his hips into yours. “Your mother and father are just on the other side of this wall, aren’t they? What would happen if they found out their innocent daughter were gettting fucked by a pirate?” You wanted to hate him so badly but the way he was abusing your hole felt too euphoric. How could you betray yourself and let a pirate like him smooth talk his way between your legs.

• “Aghh!” You groaned out before ace could quickly put a hand over your mouth. “This isn’t working. I need you to be more silent for me or else we’ll get caught.” You reached up to remove ace’s hand from your face. “I can’t, Ace..it’s too much.” Your sentences came out all moany and broken but the way you said his name got Ace all riled up.

• “Really?” You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “I could have swore I was no more than a dirty pirate to you. Now, you wanna moan my name?”

• You shook your head and tried to suck up your tears, not wanting Ace to see you crying from pleasure. “Stop it. It’s not like I like you or anything! I just..” you tried to think of how to word it to where he won’t get his ego fed. “I just wanted someone to make me feel good. I haven’t felt this good in a long time, Ace.”

• Ugh. Why would you tell him that. Out of all the other ways you could have worded that. Ace giggled and kissed you sloppily on the neck. “I bet you haven’t. You’ve never been fucked by a pirate before. I’m glad I’m your first one.”

• “Don’t get cocky. It’s not like you have my virginity.” “Don’t need it.” Ace took his hands and started fondling your tits while ever so often, suckling on your sensitive nipples. “I’m just glad I got to have you in general. You’re such a prize, babe.” The pirate didn’t let up on his fast strokes into your womb. He was minutes away from bursting inside but he needed to wait until you came for him. Ace had to make sure he exceeded your standards and make sure you change your mind about pirates.

• “Mmhh! Ace I’m c-cumming!” You wrapped your arms around his back to hold him closer. “Feels so good!” When Ace felt your pussy squeeze him and squirt on his cock, he had to pull out before he accidentally let himself go inside you. “Come on. Finish cumming on my cock so I can cum too. I’m almost there!”

• “Not inside!” Ace shushed you. “I know babygirl. Just let me take care of you.” He said as he swiftly pulled out and started stroking himself to finish on your body, painting your stomach in his white liquid. “See? Your pirate boy knows exactly what you want.”

• When you felt the bed shift and caught Ace standing up, you whined. “What are you doing?” He turned to you and giggled at your cute voice and expression. “Well we had a deal. Didn’t we?” He started putting his clothes on. “You told me to hit the road right after.” He looked back over at you and hated seeing the upset look you had. “Unless…you would rather I stay..?” “I mean..you did pay for a full night..it would be a waste of berries.”

• He threw his clothes back on the ground and hopped back in the bed with you. “Ah. So you actually like this little pirate?” You chuckled and covered your blush. “N-No! I just…think I judged you a bit too harshly..” you felt embarrassed to say it but you were wrong. Maybe not ALL pirates are bad..

[sweetredbeans]

i still fall for you (like suns do for skies)

My piece for @sthbigbang! It was delightful to work with such talented artists as @encodedkismet, @spiritofrainbursts and @superemeralds! Links to their gorgeous art pieces are at the end of the story! (Yes I will be finishing updating everyone's links as stuff gets posted!)

Comet: definition: a celestial object consisting of a nucleus of ice and dust and, when near the sun, a “tail” of gas and dust particles pointing away from the sun.

Star: definition: a fixed luminous point in the night sky which is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.

...

He should have known. Dammit, he should have known, from that very first moment, that very first instant in time that he saw him, how it would end.

The way it always had to, the way it always would.

It would end the same way that it began.

I push my feet

To the edge

I look and I face my world

This lonely scene, I take it in

It's hard to say where all of it begins

And I end

Sonic was a comet. A block of ice hurtling through mostly empty space, originating from somewhere beyond the reaches of imagination and flying at unimaginable speeds towards nothing, forever.

That was how it had always been.

True, he would admit that from time to time he had some satellites–Tails, the golden fox twisting and turning like a spark across his endless skies, a shooting star that couldn’t possibly exist in the depths of space and yet he did–unique and impossible. Amy, a burst of violet and rose on the distant horizon, the creation of a new galaxy that called to him, promising a life, a future of stability and tranquility that his chaotic flight would never be able to enjoy. Knuckles, a strong, steadfast planet wandering his own universe and finding his own way in the distant parallel.

None of them could ever keep up. None of them could fully thaw his frozen heart, melt him to his icy core, race him to the edge of the universe in perfect stride, step for step, beat for beat. He was the Blue Blur, the Cerulean Phantom, running solo, free and alone, forever and ever, his only true companions the feeling of the earth beneath the soles of his feet, and the glitter of stars in the endless expanse over his head. He was part of the world, and the world was part of him, and everyone else was just a blip, a splash of color whipping by at speeds that no one else could even comprehend.

In his own orbit, he was alone. A solitary glitter of life sprinkled across an empty universe. And that's how it had always been.

And I waited for the sky to change

But, oh, it never did

And I almost dropped my head

And lost my faith

At least outsmarting GUN had been fun, a quick distraction from the monotony. That's how these things went every time: each adventure was a grand new opportunity that always fell short. Nothing could ever truly challenge his abilities. Leaping off a helicopter, skateboarding down city streets, even fighting that mech—it was all so basic that it barely left his heart pumping, barely made his blood flow through his veins. But it was all that he had, when the rest of the world very often felt so dull and lifeless.

Sonic scuffed the sole of his red shoe on the ground, listening to the way the specialized rubber scraped against the asphalt, before glancing up. The night was hidden here, among the great gray and brown-clad buildings stretching into the skies, their marching rows of rectangular fluorescent lights the only stars that were visible. Never changing, powered from dawn to dusk and round again—no twinkle to them unless Sonic tilted his head back and forth, letting the shadows and walls take one light or another from him. He was the only one who could make a change to his world.

Then I saw you from a distance

You were worlds away

Oh, but you had me from the vision

I never looked away

Again

Then. Then, there was someone there. Someone else.

Someone new.

A galaxy.

A star.

A sun.

It didn't matter that the true stars were obscured: Sonic could see them all, every one of them, here reflected in front of him in oil-dark, ink-black fur. Here was an emptiness, a lack of matter, a black hole straight into space ignoring all laws of physics and reality because he just could. And that red—streaks of blood, of life, flowing through his space, glinting ruby-bright eyes that wouldn't look at him: chaos he wanted this stellar being to look at him. Wanted to be broken apart, cracked open, the glittering inside pieces laid bare streaming behind him worth it to taste the heat of the sun. And this was his sun.

His star was saying words, but Sonic's ears didn't process them, his mind far too preoccupied. Stars didn't speak—they sang, songs so old and distant that no one living could understand the words. His star was singing too, and perhaps, possibly, if he concentrated, if he focused, maybe he could grasp a single thread of that tune, hold it tight forever in his heart, know it intimately until one day he could understand the meaning behind the melody. The truth behind the tune. The soul behind the song.

Only a flash of green, bright and distracting, so very much of this world and none other brought him out of his dream and back into the present moment, “That's the...chaos emerald!”

No...no...his dreams were nothing more than pleasant distracting fantasies. This was no sun, no star. Just a fake hedgehog, another threat to the world, to their way of life, and, of course, it was Sonic's job to stop him.

It would be so easy, of course. Too easy, always too easy. Sonic almost sighed; just another routine, another set of hoops to jump through to avoid whatever shenanigans the world was trying to draw him into, be it from GUN or Eggman or this strange new hedgehog brandishing the chaos emerald like he was someone worthy of its power.

He could be...a star was worthy of that power. A great ball of plasma containing the ability to spring new life into existence, or the ability to destroy the very fabric of reality—perhaps this hedgehog was a star, after all. Chaos, Sonic longed for a star, a fixed point to return home to on his long travels, a spot where he was always welcomed, always loved...

But no, no he was a comet, that was how it was, and he didn't know where such thoughts of being in orbit were coming from. He was free, he was alone, and yet there was somehow no way that he could ever look away and escape from this brilliant crimson glow ever again.

“Now I know what's going on! The military has mistaken me for the likes of you!” How could they have mistaken him, a dim, distant block of ice, for this radiant point of light?

His star looked at him, with eyes the color of blood, of lava, of the heartbeat of the earth itself, and Sonic willed himself not to care, not to crumble, not to prostrate himself before a god of the very universe itself.

“So...where do you think you're going with that emerald?” Nothing. No response, no liquid song voice; he needed to hear it, he needed to understand! “Say something! You fake hedgehog!”

He did. He sang, “Chaos control!”

And Sonic's heart soared.

...

He was fast.

He was as fast as Sonic—even if it was just that he was using the chaos emerald to warp, Sonic couldn't remember the last time he'd fought someone who dodged him that quickly on the first attack. Who looked back at him like that, with a smirk that knew it was superior. He could feel the energy radiating from his doppelganger now that they were fighting, a perfect resonance to his own—gravity rippling the fabric of spacetime itself, pulling him closer, tugging him into orbit around nothing less than a giant. Staring into the beauty that would rip him apart and leave him as nothing more than a streak of light across a distant sky.

Sonic felt the world get emptier when the other hedgehog vanished, leaving him alone again to once again face G.U.N.'s paltry wrath.

Shadow. The world's ultimate life form.

His star.

I still fall for you

Like suns do for skies

Cerulean

Pouring in from your eyes

“Pffft, no, what are you talking about, I'm not in love with Shadow! I mean, c'mon that's crazy, right? Cuz, I mean, we just met anyways—nobody here even ever saw him before he showed up to steal that chaos emerald the other day while pretending to be me! The fact that we keep running into each other is just coincidence: of course we'd meet on Prison Island, since he was there to steal stuff for Egghead and I was there to fix stuff and it's only natural that we'd fight and then he'd run away after I totally beat him, and I definitely didn't think about running after him to see where he was going and follow him because I never want him out of my sight again, nah that'd be crazy, right? Hahahahah yeah it totally would...just like it's crazy to think about how beautiful the stars would be reflected in his eyes...red shouldn't be the color of space; space is black, right? Red's a color out of space—but he's a star, of course he'd be a red giant. All the best stars are red giants, aren't they? Betelgeuse, Aldebaran, Antares, Arcturus...so maybe it makes sense. But, y'know I'm totally not obsessed with him or thinking about what star he'd be or anything...”

“Uhhhh...Sonic?” Tails' voice cut through Sonic's rambling and the blue hedgehog immediately stopped, his hands frozen where they had been gesturing wildly to the empty air.

“...yeah?”

The yellow fox gave a sideways glance at Amy and Knuckles, who were both staring too, mouths slightly ajar, “I, uh...I don't think anyone asked that. We just wanted to know where to go next.”

A short beat of silence before Sonic cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah, heheheh, that makes sense,” the blue hedgehog made an expression that could be a grimace or a grin, as he ran his hand nervously through his quills before glancing up at the skies above him, “Well...space, I think. That's where...that's where they'd be. That's where Shadow belongs.”

That's where all stars belonged.

Just a hollow moon that you colorized

So powerful

I feel so small

But so alive

Like watching the Earthrise

He'd never tried to harness chaos energy before—not like this. But he knew how Shadow's energy felt when they'd clashed—he'd memorized the fluctuations, the rhythm and beat of his rival's existence resonating with his every breath. So here, in the tiny space capsule falling towards his imminent death, he closed his eyes and remembered it.

He remembered how to be a star.

And somehow it worked.

“You never cease to surprise me, blue hedgehog. I thought that capsule you were in exploded in space.” His star. His star, not even attacking him now, not lashing out at him but merely here, walking beside him. If they both reached their hands out, they could link their pinkie fingers together, an unspoken promise, a silent bond. Sonic felt his heart stutter, but kept his voice nonchalant.

“You know, what can I say...I die hard!” But he could tell the truth; he couldn't lie to his star, couldn't hesitate to tell him, “You actually saved me, you know.” The golden gem gleamed in his hand, its energy a paltry reflection of its true cousins, but still vibrant in its own right.

“It was a chaos emerald, wasn't it? But there's no way you could have activated chaos control using an emerald that's fake!”

Of course he couldn't. It was against the laws of this universe, completely out of the realm of possibility, but for his star, he would do it again and again. For his star, he would reach through the bowels of a black hole to another universe and bring back the haunted dust of a million galaxies if he only asked.

The corridor walls blurred together: somehow, they were running. Neither of them knew when they had started, but they were—they had to be, it was in their nature. They couldn't stand still, neither of them, they had to run, had to feel the world moving around them.

“So there's more to you than just looking like me. What are you anyway?”

A comet. Your comet.

But he couldn't say that. He could never tell, “What you see is what you get! Just a guy that loves adventure. I'm Sonic the Hedgehog!” It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.

“I see. But you know, I can't let you live.” Of course he couldn't. Suns didn't let comets live. Comets came to bask in their glow...and died in their arms.

They said that we both were too different

That all of the shine would fade away

But I wish that I never listened

'Cause you pulled me through the grey

Sonic didn't care what Tails had said; he didn't need to heed the yellow fox's warning. He'd never felt like this before. Not with anyone.

They were perfectly in sync. Golden fur glowing, liquid ruby eyes shining, power thrumming through their hearts and blood, they were both suns. Even if one was only a reflection of the other, who could tell when they were so close, so bright that it hurt to look at them. They were truly stars now, a perfect binary in orbit around each other, balanced in exquisite harmony. Every nonexistent breath of nonexistent air matched, every motion was coordinated like they'd been fighting in tandem for years, decades, centuries. Time was immaterial, because they were made of the fabric of the universe. They were never ending, a perfect dance, a perfect song flowing through Sonic's heart. Despite the severity of the situation he never wanted it to end.

They were perfect.

They were partners.

And for the first time...Sonic felt like he could see the world in color. He could see the beauty of the universe painted across the vault of heaven before him. He could see the reasons that people had for living, not just existing but living...he had seen colors before, the splashes of his friends across his oblivion of endless obsidian skies, but they had come and gone, faded before he'd even noticed them.

This was different—this was a reshaping of the very fundamental building blocks of his world. This was color in the way that the first daffodil of spring is, the ripple of a fish in a pond, the streak of a meteor, the flaming foliage of early autumn.

This was life.

I still fall for you

Like suns do for skies

Cerulean

Pouring in from your eyes

Just a hollow moon that you colorized

So powerful

I feel so small

But so alive

He saw Shadow's decision reflected in his eyes, painted across every inch of sky and stars. He could feel the pull of energy, his partner's wavelength out of sync now, his frequency decreasing.

“Shadow! Shadow!!!!”

His entire universe turned to look at him, and he felt the core of his being shake at the expression in his eyes. The resignation to an end far too early.

“I have to make them happy.”

“But...” Sonic bit back his response, What about making ME happy...he knew what the answer would be. He always knew what the answer would be.

And then there was no more time “CHAOS CONTROL”.

The energy he'd felt vibrating in his soul since the first moment he'd seen Shadow snapped, springing back on him as he left and Shadow...didn't. Separated, broken apart, the comet flung from the orbit of the star by a collision with a force that neither of them could have predicted and tossed away towards...towards...

Sonic couldn't look away. He couldn't.

I walk these streets of loneliness

A tranquil sea on all horizons

This empty scene of might-have-beens

I stare at starless skies

That call to me and I still wish

He could see it.

Their future.

Their “might-have-beens.”

(I still wish)

He could see himself alone. Forever. The world slowly falling back into gray as he watched the never-ending stars shift around an empty planet.

There were sunflowers here. A forest of them, bobbing their golden heads against cerulean skies, mimicking in their own way the world itself. Sonic was shorter than them, their stems stretching far above his head as he walked the endless forest of them, searching for something he'd lost and would never find again.

A shape, a figure, a shadow darting through the green stems ahead of him—he was following them, always following, but he could never catch up, never quite make out their form any more than an obscure shade.

At his feet, a perfect flower, plucked from its stem. Golden symmetrical harmony in every petal. The minute he touched it, it crumbled to dust at his fingertips, blowing away on the wind.

His voice called after it, but only once; he felt blood well in his throat at the raspy croak, cracked and broken from hours, days, years of calling the exact same thing, and never once receiving an answer.

(I still wish)

He could see them standing apart, facing each other. They didn't know each other any more, but somehow the battlefield was familiar, the players the same for another round. The tables reset, the game restarted, another chance in another life.

“It'll be a date to die for.”

“Hey! That's my line!”

He could see an invasion, a devastation on the scale that none had ever imagined—even he couldn't stand against it, falling to his knees in the face of oblivion, but somehow, at the end, there was Shadow. There was the star, the sun, his golden glow shining out against a blood-red sky, and taking the power he had been too weak to use before to end the war before it even began.

Shadow, his star, saved them all, taming the power that had once burned him out and turning it against his very creators, all for the sake of their world. Sonic stared up at him with awe and adoration, but Shadow never looked at him.

Not even once.

(I still wish)

He could see a shattered universe, a disaster created by his own audacity and hubris. His friends and enemies mere shells of their former selves, taunting him with possibilities and “might have beens” as he worked, piecing them back together even as the broken remains of the world drew farther apart, fading and flickering towards oblivion. He risked losing it all, losing everything—not just his true friends but these new versions as well.

But Shadow was there, watching over him: guiding his footsteps, and, at the very end, catching him when he fell.

Shadow saved him. Shadow always saved him.

(I still wish)

But best of all, he could see them dancing, like this, forever. The space above the planet becoming their domain, their place to stand and watch over the world below. They would count the stars together, naming them one by one and hanging them into their constellations, holding each one close until the day they went out, disappearing with a whisper or a nova bright enough to light up the entire night sky, leaving a mark on the skin of space that could be seen for millions of years.

A super nova.

He could see them in the city, the rain covering up the stars, the buildings, everything except the two of them, walking, hand in hand through the never-ending gray, but never being lost because together they were always found. Heart to heart and hand in hand, orbiting each other perfectly and perpetually, the comet caught in the star's gravity and kept safe, the perfect distance away to admire the fire but not be burned by it.

Geosynchronous.

He could see them in the flowers in the spring. Tulips, each as red as Shadow's eyes, bobbing their heads under the sun and the stars, time meaningless to them as they walked among the crimson fields, the smell of damp earth invigorating to every sense.

Metamorphic.

He could see them fighting, teeth bared, ears pinned, snarling and growling and hating each other or the world or both, until fur was dusty and fangs were stained with blood, but at the end of the day they would embrace, fire and ice, and return to a home that they shared and watch the world pass them by.

Together.

Like watching the Earthrise

Sonic didn't know how he'd found himself back on the ARK after the battle with the Final Hazard. He couldn't remember walking the hallways back to the viewing area—he couldn't imagine looking away from Shadow's grave for one singular moment. He...he hadn't, right? He hadn't looked away...he couldn't look away, he might miss the spark, the distant moment when Shadow reignited and came back, a phoenix from the ashes...his Sayonara couldn't be the end.

“Sonic.” Tails' voice nearly made him jump out of his skin, but he didn't look back; he couldn't look away.

“Yeah?”

“We have to go. Eggman's ship is getting ready and...”

Sonic cut him off, “Tails?”

“Yeah?”

“Comets...what are comets?”

“Comets? Uh...they're big balls of ice and rock that usually start way out in the far reaches of the solar system, and for some reason get flung in towards the sun. When they get close, at the near end of their parabolic pathway, the solar wind heats them up so they start forming tails of dust and gas as they basically burn up...”

Tails kept going, continuing his commentary about the wonders of the universe, but Sonic didn't hear, didn't process any more of the words, because there was only one thought that was echoing thunderously through his mind.

“Sh-shadow...Shadow was the comet.”

“What?” Tails stopped chattering, his tone concerned.

“Shadow was the comet.” Sonic's voice was hollow, as he stared out at the enormous blue and green ball that slowly rotated into the view of the window, “And I...I was always the sun.”

It was always going to end like this.

Like watching the Earthrise

Art Links!

[simplydannie]

Previous: Back to the Underground || Find Them || Poisoned || Side Effects || The Troll || The Hideout || The Call

Introduce two new OCs, Apollo and Agni! One by my friend @kais-va and the other by me. I’ll do an introduction post about them one day! Hope you like it Kai 🫶 Thank you for your support!

TRIGGER WARNING ‼️ MENTION OF GUNS

After turned in by Creek, the twins find themselves back at the hands of their father: Vaughn. Angered that they have escaped her grasp, stricken by fear that Vaughn is now after her, Mistress reveals the secret of whose children they are…. Now all of the under-city will be out for their blood…

The table went flying.

Broken pieces splattering everywhere. The Mistress looked outside the window into the city of Mount Rageous.

“What…. Happened…” She fumed as she asked her goons. The Rageons standing in front of her were afraid to speak. She turned and faced Shank, her face burning red, “YOU HAD THEM! WHAT HAPPENED!?”

“What happened was you didn’t tell us the freaking truth.” Shank said plainly.

“You didn’t need to know anything. All you need to know is that I NEEDED those twins back!”

“YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT THEY WERE THE FREAKING CHILDREN OF THE DAMN CRIME LORD OF UNDER RAGEOUS!!!”

She fell silent.

“That was my business to know… that was information you don’t need to worry about.”

“Really? Because it would’ve helped me if I would’ve known that! We go after them after they use the damn smoke bombs only to be bombarded by the Montegue gang! I lost half my guys dammit!!! Only reason he let me live was to give word back to you!”

She turned around to face him, “Word? What word?”

“That he knows. He knows what you did and what you’re trying to do…. That you’re going to pay for taking his kids out from the under-city…. That you’re going to pay for the death of his wife…”

Mistress stood silent. She stared out into the bright lights of Mount Rageous. A scowl came across her face…..Vaughn Montegue: father of the infamous twin duo that had Mount Rageous eating from the palm of their. She knew what he was capable of. He owned and ran most of the corporations that supplied Mount Rageous. Of course, his goal was to run them all, but the other gang lords ran the rest. He was cunning, vile, and cruel when needed to be. He was the top dog of Under Rageous, wealthiest of them all…and on the side, he ran his own hustle of importing and selling Trolls for their essence…

But with one word, Vaughn had the power to end the economy of Mount Rageous, especially now that the powers of the upper-city had used his children to make them money. For that he was angry….for that he was coming for blood….her blood. Mistress needed to make sure he was stopped before he could plan anything, before he even had the chance of coming after her…

“Then it seems I’ll have to make my first move.” She murmured.

“And what the hell would that be? Unless you want to keep me in the dark again?” Shank asked her. She turned around to face her lover. Walking up to him, she placed a hand on his chest.

“Not again babe. Me and you are in this together after all.” She smirked, “I want EVERYONE to know…”

He cocked an eyebrow, “Known about what?”

“Know the truth about those identical brats. I want all of Rageous, both upper and under, to know where they come from, who their father is.”

“And what good is that going to do to you? Didn’t you want those brats alive?”

“That was before their father got involved… Now I want them all dead. Their father can’t protect them forever. If the other crime bosses of the under-city know, they’ll kill them all for me. How do you think his darling wife was murdered?” She looked back out into the city, “I want their blood splattered along the streets of Under Rageous…”

She could feel the whirring of the car, the sound of the engine humming through. Velvet stirred, she could feel herself regaining the strength in her body, her consciousness slowly coming back to her.

“What…What in the world…” Her hands stretched across as she felt the black leather….Leather? Her eyes opened more allowing her vision to clear. Turning to her left she saw Veneer was still out cold. “Ven?” She saw the gash she had left him on his eye. Velvet swallowed the lump in her throat…she had done that to him…out of her fit of rage again, she hurt him badly.

“Wait?” She looked around again, the Troll, the little one they had met back up in Mount Rageous, where was he? Where were they? Why were they in some fancy car? Where was that annoying purple, fancy talking Troll?

“Don’t remember your own car do you?” A deep voice spoke. It came from across them, sitting on the opposite side. It was familiar…She didn’t even need to look at who the voice came from. Her eyes fell upon the figure sitting across from them: a tall, pale Rageon, with peacock green hair. He wore his business attire as usual…still fiddling with the wedding ring he’d always wear on his finger. His ice, blue eyes fell upon her, “Did you two really think you could avoid me?”

She scowled, “Well we tried our damn best didn’t we dad.” Velvet turned to try and shake her brother awake, but he didn’t budge.

“What’s with the gash on his eye?” Vaughn did not take his eyes off his daughter.

“I…I don’t know….So could you just leave it?” She snapped.

“What. Happened.” His tone came out more serious, more menacing.

Velvet side. Crossing her arms she faced out the window, “I don’t know! I just got angry…I can’t…..I can’t control.” She stared back at him, “There! Is that a good enough answer for you?”

“So you guys did use the little Troll after all?”

Velvet looked up to stare at her father…

“I know the side effects of Troll essence ...I've seen it first hand. Something I didn’t expect or want my children to experience.”

“Well…you wanted to be part of this family business after all didn’t you?” She said.

They both turned to find Veneer stirring and moaning, his eyes opening as he regained consciousness, “Wh-what happened….Wh-where, are we? Where’s Branch?” He turned to face his sister. She remained silent. Veneer began taking in his surroundings…he grew silent and still when he laid eyes on his father sitting across from them.

“Veneer. You have matured since the last time I saw you. Without all that disgusting attire you were made to wear in Mount Rageous…I can see you have grown, both of you.”

“See. Which means we don’t need YOU in our life anymore.” Velvet spat. Veneer eyed his sister, then his father….Perhaps so. Perhaps they didn’t need him, but Veneer WANTED his father back in his life. They had messed things up with Floyd…so perhaps this was another chance they were getting?

Vaughn scoffed, “Just because you are older does not make you wiser. For one, you two were fools falling into the hands of Mistress. For having her use you as puppets.”

“…But we got out of it didn’t we.” Veneer responded.

“How do you think that solves anything?” Vaughn cocked his head to the side, “Who do you think sent those goons after you?”

“Well why do you think she’s after us?” Velvet exclaimed. This caught Vaughn by surprise, “She knows we’re your damn kids doesn’t she? That’s why she gave us hell, that’s why she wanted us? That’s why she took us away? So all this is YOUR fault!”

“Vels come one relax…” Veneer protested.

“No! It’s true! You know it is!”

“And why do you think I tried protecting you! Why I was hard on you! If you had not run away none of this would have happened!”

Veneer covered his ears as their father and Velvet began to bicker back and forth. His eyes closed shut, he began squeezing his head, “Enough!”

They stopped to stare at him. Veneer began to shout, “We needed a dad when mom died! We needed you! We lost her too and we miss her! But we have you! We NEED our dad!”

BANG!

A small explosion caused the car to swerve out of control. Velvet clung on to the seats as fear entered her body.

“What’s going on!” Vaughn yelled to the Bergen driver.

“Ambush!” The Bergen on the passenger's seat began loading a gun.

BANG! BANG!

More explosions. This time the care flipped. Velvet and Veneer let out a yell. Out of instinct, Vaughn took off his seatbelt and engulfed the twins in his arms. He held on to them tight as the car flipped and turned off the road seemingly down a ditch. It tossed and turned uncontrollably until it came to a halt landing upside down. The twins and their father stirred in the back as they regained the strength to move.

“Teal! Coal!” Vaughn called out to the Bergens that were driving…but they were out cold. He reached over to a compartment underneath the seat pulling out a gun.

“What the hell dad!” Velvet exclaimed.

“Want to fight whoever did this with bare hands? Be my guest. I for one am not going to give them the advantage.” Voices were heard coming closer…they were outnumbered…they were at a disadvantage. Vaughn pressed a button within the compartments of the car…a signal for backup up…

“Oh Vaughn! We know you and your brats are in there.” A conniving voice sounded from outside. Vaughn loaded the gun and prepared to walk out.

“What are you doing?” Veneer called out in a harsh whisper.

“Buying time until backup arrives. You two stay here.”

“Like hell we are!” Velvet exclaimed. She moved to open the door, but their father firmly grasped her by the arm and looked her dead in the eye.

“For God’s sake. Listen to me for once and stay here!” His voice was demanding, serious, and fierce. The twins only blinked to him in response…the father in him coming out for once in his life. Taking a deep breath Vaughn stepped out of the car alone. Veneer attempted to peek through the shattered windows to get a view of who was out there, who was it that ambushed them…All he could see was the glowing lights of a Strobe Rageon.

“Crap! It’s a Strobe! And where there’s a Strobe you know there's a Goyle! What do we do?”

“Nothing. He wants to be stubborn and told us to stay here. We stay.” Velvet crossed her arms and pouted.

“Seriously! Now out of all times you decide to listen!”

“What the hell are we going to do Ven? They’ll probably shoot our dad dead in a second! Then we’re next!”

Veneer bit his lip as he peeked through any opening he could find, his ear listening to the conversations that were happening outside…

Vaughn stood boldly in between the Rageons in front of him and the car that had his children behind him…It was a young Strobe standing amongst his comrades…

“You? You did this?” Vaughn seemed surprised. The young Rageon smiled, his glowing green eyes staring him down, his oranges hair illuminated brighter along with his yellow markings as joy soured through his veins.

“Pretty good wasn’t it?” He twiddled with the gun in his hands.

“How did you know where to find us?”

“Hmm, that’s for me to know and for you to NEVER find out. How does that sound?” The Strobe smiled, “Now! Word has it that you have spawns! Weird how a cranky old guy like you had any game to be able to reproduce anything at all.”

Vaughn fell silent, but his expression was unchanged. How? How did they know about his children? That damn Troll opened his mouth didn’t he….or worse….the Mistress was done being silent.

“Depends where you hear the news from. I wouldn’t believe anything this damn under-city has to say.” Vaughn responded.

The Strobe frowned. Taking his gun he shot towards Vaughn’s shoulder….The older Rageon was unbothered as he did his best to absorb the pain it gave. Inside the car, the twins gasped, holding their mouths.

“Oh my god! Next time it’ll be a bullet to his head!” Veneer said, “Vels, we HAVE to do something…He’s our dad.”

Velvet looked at the pleading look in her brother's eyes. She let out a groan as she reached for the compartments inside the vehicle…she drew out two more guns. Handing one to her brother.

“Whoa, whoa!” Veneer held his hands up in defeat, “Nope. Nuh uh. Any other options?”

“Want to help dad out or not chicken feet?”

Veneer casted a long glance at his sister before finally sighing in defeat. He took the gun carefully, “I guess we are our father’s children aren’t we.”

“I guess we are.”

The lights of the Strobe Rageon illuminated brighter as he grew angry, “MOVE OUT OF MY DAMN WAY!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. Vaughn cocked an eyebrow as the blood from the bullet wound began to drip down his shirt.

“Apollo.” He Said. The Strobe stared at him in disbelief, “You’re Eros’s boy. Crime boss of your district. You’re his boy aren’t you?”

“Congratulations! My identity has been revealed! Dad said this was my moment, my shot, kill you and your brats or bring you back to him….I’d prefer kill. NOW MOVE!” Apollo yelled. But Vaughn stood still holding the gun firmly in his hand. “I’ve had enough…AGNI!”

PLOP!

A red Goyle Rageon with shoulder length orange hair and big round horns landed on top of the car. The twins screamed inside.

“No!” Vaughn lifted his gun to shoot the Goyle Rageon, not before others came to disarm him.

“Get them out of there!” Apollo demanded.

“With pleasure.” The Goyle Rageon, Agni, began to tear apart the vehicle with his bare hands.

Velvet and Veneer let out a scream…

“Teal! Coal!” Velvet yelled out to the Bergens who were still out cold.

CLANK! CLANK!

They could hear the Goyle tearing apart the car. Veneer caught a view of the Goyle Rageon through the opening he was creating. Lifting the gun in desperation, Veneer began to shoot…but the bullets bounced off the Goyle, leaving him unscathed.

“Adorable. A for effort.” He smirked as he began smashing the car.

“Leave them alone! It’s me you want isn’t it. It’s me your father has a quarrel with. Not them!” Vaughn spat. Apollo came around and began to strike the older Rageon.

“It’s you and any spawn you reproduce Succubi.”

Vaughn laughed, spitting out blood, “What a coward. Sending a child to do a man's bidding.” Apollo glowed bright and fumed. He took out the knife he had in his pocket.

“What if I brought him your head?”

“Make sure it’s mounted on a gold platter, I don’t look well in silver.” Vaughn smirked.

Agni kept beating down on the car as the twins screamed inside. He reached into an opening taking a firm hold of Velvet’s arm. She screamed trying to pull him away as he pulled. Grabbing something sharp, Veneer was able to run it into the Goyle's skin. Agni screamed in pain.

“YOU LITTLE BRAT!” He tore a piece of the car straight off exposing the twins. Apollo turned to finally see the twins.

“Don’t do anything yet! I want them to see life leave their fathers eyes.” He smiled a wicked grin as he pointed the knife to Vaughns throat.

“DAD!” Veneer jumped out of the broken vehicle, attempting to run to his father. The Goyle Rageon grasped him by the shoulder tearing him back.

“Oh no you don’t! You get to watch the show, tiny man!” Agni smirked.

Apollo ran the knife down Vaughns cheek… blood began trickling down. Vaughn made no movement, no sound, he endured the pain. If he fought now, he knew that Goyle would snap the twins in two with ease. His eyes met his children as they stood horrified. He made a notion…a sign for them to run when they could, but he could see the small head shake they each gave him…

“DAD!” Veneer cried out again struggling against the tight hold Agni’s grip. His eyes began to glow, an orange-pink hue. “NO!” He yelled as he lifted and pointed the gun towards the Strobe Rageon…

BANG!

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 7- Loss

Summary: Easy Company is stuck in Bastogne and is succumbing to the cold harsh winter. Despite this, things are looking up! They are due to take the town of Foy and finally be done with the dreaded winter.  Easy returns to the front line in the forest just outside of Foy. You experience your first real loss due to a senseless accident. This sends you down spiraling into a dark place, and Joe is the only one that can pull you back. 

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Mentions of death, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Yiddish to English Translation, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Blood/Gore, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF 💚 This chapter continues from

1x6 Bastogne then transitions into 1x7 The Breaking Point

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

Adrennes Forest, Belgium 

January 2, 1945 

Easy company combed through the trees of the forest in the relentless cold near the target town of Foy.

Eventually, Easy encountered sporadic machine-gun fire causing a few casualties. After Hoobler’s kill shot of a German on horseback, he finally gets a Lugar and comes back to the guys to show it off to them.

LT Compton and Lipton are having a chat about where LT Dike has disappeared to while Malarkey and Shifty are digging a foxhole nearby.  

“-I haven’t seen him all day. I didn't see him coming through the woods, and I have to figure out how we ended up with-” 

Lipton respectfully interrupted Buck, “-Two wounded.”  

“Who?” Buck asked concerned stopping in his tracks. 

“Brown and Stevenson.”  

 “Goddam it-” Buck looked away rolling his eyes, “Where’s Dike!? Where the hell does he ever go?”  

“-I don’t know, but I wish he’d stay the hell there.”  You chime in approaching the first sergeant and LT. 

“Hey, Y/L/N.” Lipton greeted. 

“Would be nice if he took LT Shames with him, too-” Malarkey added. 

“-Shut up, guys.” Lip cautioned. 

“Shutting up, Sarge.” Malarkey acknowledged. 

You nod to Lip before addressing Buck, “Sir, Brown and Stevenson are stable. Me and Doc got them all patched up and ready for transport, they’re gonna be fine.” You report. 

Buck gave you an approving nod, obviously relieved. 

Suddenly a single gunshot sounded off too close for comfort and you all scrambled to the nearest half-dug foxhole with Malarkey, Shifty, Lip and Buck. 

“Patrol?” Malarkey asked. 

“No, we would’ve heard.” Lip replied. 

“One man...maybe a sniper.” Buck added. 

“That was no rifle.” Shifty confirmed. 

“What do you see, Shift?” Buck asked. 

“Nobody out there.” Shifty said. 

“Are you sure?” Buck questioned. 

“Uh-huh.” 

One of the guys came running up. “Ah Jesus, it’s Hoob! He’s shot!” He yelled out. 

“Sniper!?” Buck called back. 

“Nah, nah, he—he shot himself. MEDIC!”  

“Jesus Christ, I’m right here!” You shouted out over Lip’s shoulder as you leap out of the hole running. 

You get to Hoobler with Perconte kneeling over him. 

“It’s my fucking leg!” Hoobler cries out. 

“What happened!?” Lip asked. 

“What were you doing with a loaded gun in your pants!?” Buck asked Hoobler finding the Lugar next to him. 

“It just went off! I wasn’t touchin’ it or nothin’! I wasn’t touchin’ it, I swear!” Hoobler responded panicked. 

“Hoob, hold still dammit, I gotta cut the pants!” you bellowed at him as calmly as your voice allowed.  

You lift the fabric away from Hoobler’s skin where blood soaked through his right thigh and began feverishly slicing through his uniform. It was clear by the color and saturation of the blood that he hit the main artery. 

“It hurts like a son of a bitch!” Hoobler shrieked. 

“We gotta pack this to make it stop.” you think outloud more so to yourself.  

You pull off his belt in one fleeting motion and apply it above the wound as a tourniquet and start tightening it. Hoobler lets out a cry of pain and starts rocking side to side. 

“Goddam it, hold him down! I can’t get this tight enough to stop the bleeding if he’s moving around like that!” you tell the other five men present. 

You secure the belt, then dump your bag to get the sulfur and clean gauze to start packing the bullet wound. 

“Keep him warm!” you tell them as you dash the sulfur onto the thigh and start stuffing with the dressing. 

Doc rushed in sliding onto his knees next to you. 

“Let me see it.” Doc said pushing Malarkey aside, “Y/L/N, let me get in there so I can get the bullet out.” he said noticing you were becoming fatigued. 

Doc shifted over and started working Hoobler. Buck removed his coat and put it across Hoobler to keep him warm. 

The guys started talking to him to keep him from passing out. 

“How we doin’, Doc!?” Buck asked nervously. 

“I can’t see a thing. We gotta get him back to an aid station.” Doc stated. 

“Well let’s get ready to move him then!” you say with your voice shakier than you had intended. 

Doc still frantically working on the leg, the rest of the boys suddenly fell silent. 

“-Doc...Doc!” Buck barked. 

Eugene looked up to see Hoobler laying lifeless.

Lip and Doc stare in horror panting, trying to catch their breath. You stand over all of them with a blank stare, lost in your own thoughts over what had just occurred.  

“Dead...all because of his ‘treasured’ fucking Lugar...’” you thought to yourself. 

This revelation made you angry. Your emotions began to boil over as you voiced your recent thoughts outwardly. 

“All because of a precious Lugar!” you roared.  

The six men look at you startled. You met their shocked gazes with your eyes filled to the brim with tears. As they start to spill over, you continue. 

“Didn’t even need a fuckin’ Kraut to do it for him, did he!?” Your voice cracks as you ask them rhetorically, gesturing towards Hoobler. 

The men all look down at the expired soldier. 

You inhale loudly, tilting your head back and sniffling to try to keep the discharge from expelling from your nose. (Not very lady like). 

“Malarkey,” you say sharply in a motherly tone, side eyeing him.  

Don snaps his head up to look at you, jaw slightly slacked waiting for you to speak, “-if I fucking catch you risking your life looking for a Lugar after today, I will shoot you myself.” you stated harshly. 

Don nodded and looked back down as you turned on your heel and stormed off. 

~~~~~~~ 

Later, Lipton found you spaced out in a foxhole by yourself. He approached cautiously, recognizing the distant look on your face and not wanting to spook you. You sensed his presence and looked over at him with emptiness in your eyes. 

“Hey, Y/F/N.” he began. Your face remains as you looked straight ahead again. 

Lip sat on the edge of your foxhole, allowing his feet to dangle inside. 

“You ok?” His voice was gentle and worried. 

You only nod. 

“Listen, uh, when you’re ready, I need you to come with me to Captain Winters to explain what happened. Just, whenever you’re ready, k?” he waited, “You know where to find me.”  

It was only until he started to walk away you found whatever voice you had left. 

“Sarge, we can go now.” you call out as you slowly make your way out of the hole. 

As you stand before Winters and Nixon retelling the story, your voice begins to strain fighting back anger and choking down tears.  

“Hoob had so many layers on him we couldn’t tell how bad the bleeding was, sir.” you pause and look down at your boots, “He was already gone by the time we got him to the aid station. The bullet went through the artery.” you finished. 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference if you had known.” Nixon tried to assure. 

You look at him perplexed; your face twisted up with that same rage beginning to rise in your chest. 

“With all due respect, that’s where you’re wrong, sir.” you raise your voice, still trying to maintain your customs and courtesies towards him. 

Winters, Nixon and Lipton shared wide eyed glances. 

“Y/F/N, maybe you should-” Lip began. 

“-No! This was avoidable. If Hoobler hadn’t had that Lugar, he’d be alive now!” you stated bitterly. The men were speechless as you continued 

“I hear the guys go around talking about what fucking trophies they’re going to bring home from this ‘Kraut’ or that ‘Jerry,’ and you know what, sir? It makes me sick to my stomach! Do you know Perconte hasover a dozen wrist watches from dead German soldiers he’s been collecting since Normandy!? At least!” you pause to look away, to shield the view of your tears. 

You release along sigh, “And now, because of a stupid German handgun that he considered a “trophy” is the reason that Hoobler is dead. No trophy or treasure is worth that.” you concluded shaking your head.  

You look back at the three men with your glossed over eyes, waiting for a tentative punishment for not asking for permission to speak freely before going off. 

Winters, Nixon and Lipton exchanged concerned glances. 

“Y/F/N,” Winters approached you, “I’ve been noticing for awhile that the weight of the war has been anchoring you down. It gets to all of us at some point, so it’s fine to get it off your chest. As long as you keep pushing forward and lean on the guys for support.”  

“Just make sure when you lose it that it’s only with us. I don’t think Sink would put up with that.” Nixon joked. 

You scoffed flashing a weak smile at him. 

“You’re doing good work with us. Nobody has any complaints.” Winters added. 

You nod, “Thank you, sir, that means a lot coming from you.” you replied. 

“In the meantime, go find Liebgott and stay with him until you’re smiling again. That kid always has something to say that makes the guys laugh.” Nixon said with a wink. 

“Yes, sir.” you respond with a slight grin before leaving the three men under the tarp overhang. 

~~~~~~~ 

You didn’t go to Joe, though. You went back to your foxhole to be alone. As the sun was setting, the air became chillier, and you found yourself uncontrollably shivering. You started to regret not finding Joe to get some extra warmth from him in his foxhole.

And as if he heard you thinking about him, Joe appears crouching over your foxhole. He remained quiet for a minute to see if it was safe to join you, but you keep your face buried in your folded arms covered by your wool blanket. Joe thought he heard you either whimpering or crying, but as he leaned in closer, he discovered you were actually humming a song to yourself.  

“Hey.” Joe said softly. 

You look up at him with tired blood shot eyes, red nose and peeling chapped lips. You had been crying silently in that hole all afternoon and you knew Joe would know. You attempt a weak smile then rest your chin on your knees.  

Joe hopped in and plopped down next to you. He studied you for a few seconds then nudged you with his elbow. You side eye him without any additional response. 

“I just talked to Lip-” he began.  

You looked down. 

“-He asked me if you had come to see me. Had to tell him no. He told me what happened, and that Nixon told you to come see me.” he continued. 

You remained quiet, shifting from your chin to your cheek looking away from Joe.  

Liebgott moved closer to you putting his arm across your shoulders. His closeness made you tremble. You wanted to lean into his chest to get warm, but you stayed put. 

Joe tilted his head, “Why didn’t you come to me, Gams?” he asked, almost sounding offended. 

His fingers gently gliding back and forth on your shoulder, he anxiously waits for you to answer him.  

“I-I don’t know...” you muttered as you sniffled. 

Joe reached for your shoulders to turn you towards him. You rotate entirely around as his hands guided your face to his. You finally look at him with tears cascading down your cheeks. Sensing how distraught you still were, he pulled you into him, embracing you tightly as he leaned against the dirt wall. You curl into him resting your head right over his chest. 

“I gotchyu, doll-” he reassured then kissed the top of your head. “I’m right here.” 

Joe held you, allowing you to soak his coat with your tears while you silently bawled as you wrap your arms around his torso, holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, so he occasionally planted a kiss on the side or top of your head while kneading your back or arms to give you any sort of relief. 

This lasted for awhile until you were drained of tears to shed. You shifted upward to lay your head into the crook of Joe’s neck to be as close to him as possible. 

“So,” Joe started, “did you really tell Malark that you’d shoot him?” he asked. 

For the first time all day, you laughed. Your laughter is music to Joe’s ears as he embraces you tighter then kisses your forehead. 

“I sure did.” you respond, your voice raspy and strained since you hardly said a complete sentence for hours. 

“Pretty sure you scared him out of looking for that Lugar for his nephew.” Joe stated. 

“Good.” you responded. 

He rested his chin on top of your head. 

“What were you singin’ anyway?” he asked. 

You sighed, “Tu-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral.”  

“Tu ra what?” Joe laughed trying to look at you. 

You giggle, “By Bing Crosby? From the movie ‘Going My Way?’ You don’t know it?”  

“Ah sure, I think I’ve heard it once or twice-” he responded while pulling you in closer, “-maybe you can refresh my memory?” he added. 

“I don’t know, Joe, my voice is shit right now from crying.”  

“Sing quietly then. Come on, for me?” he urged winking at you. 

You couldn’t resist the man. You obliged him with a gentle grin. 

🎶“Tu-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral-” you began subtly, “Tu-ra-loo-ra-li...”🎶  

You softly serenade Joe the Irish lullaby until you drift off to sleep in his arms. He stayed with you overnight in your foxhole. His steady heartbeat and rhythmic breathing soothed your inner turmoil, allowing you the deepest sleep you’ve had in months. 

~~~~~~~ 

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, looking up to see Joe knocked out still holding onto you as he was before you fell asleep on him. 

You move your head up and press your lips into his neck, gently placing a kiss right over the scar left behind from the wound at crossroads. He shuddered, then woke up alarmed, looking at you with hooded droopy eyes. 

“Heeeeey now, Gams-” he cautioned flashing a half-concerned expression. “Whaddya tryin’ to do?” he said through a yawn with a nervous laugh while rubbing his neck where you had kissed him. 

“What?” you respond partially entertained by his reaction. 

He looked at you skeptically, “Come on, you know whatchyu did.” he rebuked, taking an opportunity to stretch. 

You shrug at him with a coy smirk. He smiled at you cynically.  

“You keep doing that shit and we’re going to have to find something to cover this foxhole, so nobody sees what I’d like to do you.” he stated, his voice gravelly and low.  

You gasp as you back off him, “Joseph Liebgott!”  

He chuckled, “Just giving you a fair warning, sweetheart. Don’t think I won’t.” he replied with a wink. 

You felt a wave of heat rush over your entire body as you stared at him in shock by his honesty. 

You scoffed, “Noted. I’ll be more mindful where and when I put my kisses.”  

“Mm-hm...” Joe hummed side eyeing you suspiciously. 

You feel yourself blush as you bashfully smile back at him. He pulled you back onto him. 

“Go back to sleep you little tsrus (troublemaker).” he whispered in Yiddish, then kissed your forehead.  

~~~~~~~ 

[aceofwhump]

hi! do you have any recs for whump fics featuring klaus from the umbrella academy? i saw him on your list and i trust your taste ♡

(i've read all of knobheed's fics so far on ao3)

I do!! I love Klaus whump. Here's ya go :D

I think we're alone now by nishiki Summary: As Diego finds his brother Klaus on the brink of death in that crappy motel room, he decides that taking care of his brother is more important than saving the world.

the visitation of the ghost by allthempickles Summary: Klaus is going through withdrawal. The apocalypse (and Luther) aren't making it easy.

blue thread (whatever, it's not like you care) by VeryCoolKid69 Summary:  in which Klaus relapses and has a few bottles too many. Unfortunately for him, a few too many people care. or, in which Limbo’s a bitch and so is God. (Post season one, but everything turned out fine. No 60s and no Sparrows.)

Ghosts of You(th) by SilvertonguedClotpole Summary: It was a mausoleum, and right now it was probably the best chance they had at hiding from those chasing them. But of course, a mausoleum isn't just a mausoleum to Klaus. It was a hell. And his siblings were about to see a true glimpse of what it was like being Klaus Hargreeves. When they're forced to hide in the cemetery, the siblings get more than they bargained for when they have to fight to remain hidden, and fight to keep their brother from toppling over the edge.

And I'm just gonna plug the ones I've written as well:

One Hand in the Grave, One Hand on My Pulse  Summary: "A bang went off and Klaus felt the impact of the bullet in his gut. He gasped and instinctively pressed a hand to his stomach as blood began to bubble up. Eyes wide, he looked into the stunned face of the drug dealer standing several feet away from him. They stared at each other for a moment, both startled by the sound of the gun going off. The dealer panicked and spun around. He tucked the gun into his pants as he ran off into the night, leaving Klaus alone in the dark alleyway."

Operation: Rescue Klaus  Summary: What if Diego got Patch’s message just a little bit earlier and makes it to the motel in time to be her backup in s01e04 Man on the Moon? A.K.A., I play around with canon events because I needed Klaus to be rescued by a family member and cared for god dammit!!

Not Alone Summary: Klaus is sick but his siblings think he's either drunk or going through withdrawal and dismiss him. Diego notices something is off with Klaus and learns that Klaus has actually been sober for several months and is actually sick. Ben feels helpless. Diego and Ben take care of Klaus

[pennyserenade]

The Hollywood Hedonist Method

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, light dirty talk (a little degrading), sex in public place (?), soft dom!reader, soft dom!dieter tags: references to drugs, talk of suicide (not serious), a self pitying dieter bravo word count: 2.9k+ summary: dieter's movie is bad and he looks to you for a quick fix to a long problem. a/n: is this the most inspired piece i ever wrote? probably not but i did have a lot of fun writing it. i wouldn't say this is my usual writing style, but i'm trying something new on here and i hope you like it. if you'd like to be updated on when i post my writing, follow my writing updates blog @belovedinfidels

He fingers you on the black marble countertop, his mess of crushed ambitions transformed suddenly into a hardy joie de vivre as you accept his tongue into your mouth. Salacious stories be damned: this is better than any page six bullshit could cover, his strong body settled between your widened legs, his long fingers curled in the warm comforts of your body. He breathes you in, drinks you up. 

Your whiskey soaked tactlessness is divine tonight. It offers a heady respite from the impending dark cloud of his self doubt. He doesn’t even mind that you don’t realize how gloomy this shit makes him. He feels like one of those goddamn characters in Sunset Boulevard, switching between the dead bloodied man floating in the pool of his own ambition, and the frenzied, forgotten actress with the warm gun of delusion in her hands. He hates that he’s miserable over his fucking shitty movie, and he’s so hard it’s embarrassing, and a little confusing, and you’re beginning to squirm and he wonders if maybe his tongue might make you shake and—-

“Dieter!” 

You dig crescent shaped imprints on the pale, freckled skin of his shoulders. His tongue makes you shout–better than he could’ve ever hoped for. It’s the ego boost he needs. Plus, you’re so goddamn wet that it’s coating his chin and he’s only just got on his knees. That’s nice, too. 

He licks up to your swollen clit, tonguing it until you let out delightful little mewls and writhe beneath him. When you close your legs around his head, he lets out a moan. You taste like the closest thing to penitence he’ll ever get. He could eat your pussy all night if you let him. Really. There’s some things he knows for certain, some things even bad fucking movies and a deflating ego can’t rob him of, and his love for this is one of them. The act of spreading a woman apart and eating her like she’s ripe pickings from the Garden of Eden almost drives him to romanticism sometimes. He is sure he could write poetry about this. He bets your pussy’d look so pretty on a canvas. He’s never drawn a pussy from memory, but he’s gonna try it tomorrow and—

“Are you okay?” you rasp, looking down at him with a frown. 

Well, maybe it can rob me of this, he thinks bitterly. 

Your grip turns more forgiving in his hair, your fingers sympathetically pushing his locks back from his face. He comes up, his slick-glistened lips forming into what you suspect is meant to be a reassuring grin. It looks more like a grimace. You run a thumb affectionately over his cheek and he groans, pushing it off with his shoulder. He positions himself back between your legs. When you pull at his hair again, trying to get him to look at you, he winces sharply. 

“Dammit,” he mutters, dark eyes deep wells of glazed frustration. “If I don’t make you cum I’m going to jump out of the window,” he deadpans. 

You’ve always hated the kind of people who make you wonder what’s a joke and what’s not, because it’s a constant commotion of miscommunication. Life becomes a bad joke, a joke that is in constant need of explaining, and you’ve never liked that. Dieter is the sort that seems to be hanging on the edge of I don’t know, the kind who seems to be supplanting real answers for half funny, half serious ones. The uncertainty he posits is a product of the uncertainty he feels - you can tell already - but you’re not exactly enthused to decipher him for the rest of your life. 

You frown. You’d only met him under strobe lights not even two months ago, shouting over the music to get to know one another. He had tasted of stale cigarettes and early morning remorse, and he’d taken you in the women’s bathroom, pressed you against the bathroom stall, and fucked you with bruising intensity. Then he had written his number on the palm of your hand, and kissed you chastely on the mouth after it was all over. There’s no future here. You won’t be deciphering anything. 

“Sit on my face,” he implores. Dieter delivers the sentence like he’s asking you if he can hold your hand. His fingers grip at your thighs and his breath grazes the inside of your legs. When he presses his lips to the side of your cunt, you close your eyes against the sensation. He tongues the spot, laughing shakily as you ease underneath him. Your hips press forward and he takes it as acceptance. “Or don’t,” he says. His tongue teases at your lips, and you can hear the grin in his tone when he says, “I’ll eat you out like this. That’s just fine, too.” His tongue nudges into your opening and you gasp. Your hand finds his hair again. “But tell me you want it.” 

His lips press to the side of your pussy again. You gush involuntarily at the sound of a husky voice, at the way he hovers over you with the promise of more. 

“Mm.” You look down your body at him, making eye contact as he presses kisses closer and closer to your glistening clit. He nods his head at you, encouraging you as he begins twirling his tongue around the area. “Actors are so goddamn self absorbed,” you say. He nods wordlessly again, smiling against your skin. He doesn’t tongue your clit, though. You want him badly to take it into his mouth. To suck—

“Fuck, please,” you plead. “I want it.” 

His eyes glimmer. You feel his hot breath all over you, and can hardly stand the sensation of it. You want to ride his face, make him bring you to orgasm your own way. You nearly forget his sad, petulant attitude in your impatience. 

He takes your clit in his mouth, sucks eagerly as you stroke your nipple through the thin cotton of your dress. Dieter is greedy even in his giving, taking as much of you as you’ll let him. He enters a finger into you—a finger that goes in with an embarrassing ease—and then another when you moan lewdly into the enclosed air of this someone else’s bathroom. His face moves with your hips, letting you rock against the rhythm his own fingers set. You moan his name and he goes faster, and you feel on the brink of imploding. 

Your eyes close and you focus on his mouth, and the fury with which he works at your swollen clit, and you think of his fingers, and the way your cunt clenches around them, large as they are. As you cum against his mouth with an unapologetically guttural moan, he surprises you with the seriousness of his intent—how he does not look up at you or smirk against you, but works devoutly at building another orgasm up. You grip the edge of the sink and your head thuds against the mirror as it lolls back. The glass reverberates but neither of you care; your ass is gradually rising off the counter and his body is rising up, one of his legs kneeled on the ground and the other one hovering. He makes you cum again in a matter of seconds. 

In between your second and third orgasm, his belt buckle jingles open and he’s risen all the way up. He comes up for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and then he kisses you on the mouth. He’s wet with your juices down to his chin and he’s not afraid to spread the taste of you against your tongue. There’s a drop of pre-cum wetting the blue of his tight boxer shorts. You grab onto his jean loops and jostle him closer. He comes without protest. 

“You shouldn’t ask a man how he feels when he’s eating you out,” he tells you. His head is pressed against your chest and he’s looking down at himself, at the way his cock is strained in his boxers. He’s hard as hell. He looks back up at you with intense eyes. “It’s likely he feels pretty fucking good.” 

“Shut up,” you groan. You stuff your hand down the front of his open jeans and his neutrality fades into a smirk. His hips jerk as you palm him and he whimpers, desperate as ever. You fist his hair, driving his neck back so you can kiss along the column of his throat. “The movie wasn’t even that fucking bad,” you tell him. He laughs and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. You suck at the skin there. If he minds, he doesn’t say. His eye lashes flutter against his cheeks and he happily grinds against your hand. You think you could make him beg, if you wanted. You think maybe he wants to. 

You withdraw your touch suddenly and he whimpers, pupils blown wide with desire. He goes from confused to uncertain. “What?—“ 

“Ground,” you command. He nods curtly. 

He peels off his jeans and underwear on his way down to the cold, sterile tile, making no qualms about being bare ass naked on his employer’s bathroom floor. They are downstairs and they’re partying, and even if they weren’t he wouldn’t give a damn anyway. That’s the appeal of him, isn't it? It’s why the public buys the magazines and watches the movies he’s in. Dieter is a brilliant train wreck and they want to see. 

That movie they put him in was so goddamn commercial and so heartless, and so contrived. He hopes he gets cum on the black shower mat because of what they’ve done to him. 

“I’ve got no condom,” he tells you suddenly, remembering. This had been so spur of the moment. A hand on your knee under the table turned to a hand in your underwear and suddenly you were both up here. His face scrunches up, waiting for rejection. 

He supposes he could make do, maybe just ask you to talk to him while he masturbates this hard-on away. Are you into that sort of thing? He supposes it’s a little exhibitionist, and he knows that’s not everyone’s cup of tea but—

You don’t seem to give a shit. You straddle his hips and look down at him. You’re still a little loopy from your orgasms but confident in your approach-confident that he wants this badly as you think he does and goddamnit if you’re not right. He ought to be responsible and ask you the slew of questions responsible people ask before they bury their cocks into nice women such as yourself. Birth control? Have you fucked anyone else and do you think they might’ve given you something? When’s your birthday? Middle name? But he doesn’t. He breathes steadily beneath you, excited and so fucking worked up he’s afraid the first heavenly push into you might be the last one if you’re not careful with him. 

He doesn’t even know if you won’t tell the paps about this. Maybe you will. Maybe the price of this will be a magazine spread featuring a bad airport photo of him and the headline “DIETER BRAVO OUT OF CONTROL: L.A. FLING TELLS ALL.” And this L.A. fling will know all, will have everything to tell. In a matter of seconds he tries to decide what kind of person you are. He softens a bit, and you notice immediately, and that fresh Hollywood self pity is back and he softens some more.  

Before you can ask if he’s okay again, he heaves a telling sigh. “Too much or not enough drugs,” is his response. It was good while it lasted. What’s the worst that can tell them now? That he eats pussy to make up for his drug induced impotence on bad days? 

You look confused, maybe even a little wounded. No, you are wounded. He squeezes your hip as if to say “You did your best” and this hurt flashes more visibly across your face. Well. 

“Coward,” you tell him. His eyebrows raise to his hairline. 

“Hm?” he answers.  

You lean down, whisper it to him. “You’re a self pitying coward. It’s not the drugs. You’re making yourself miserable.”

“Listen—“ he starts indignantly, but you shake your head. Oddly, he’s getting stiff again. This has been the most embarrassing night of his whole fucking life—and perhaps the most telling. 

You look down between your bodies, pleased. “My theory was right.”

“Please,” he groans, “no more or I’m going to kill myself for real.” 

You laugh and it’s so genuine and that he laughs too, despite himself. You might be laughing at him for all he knows but it doesn’t feel like it. He decides once and for all, looking at you, watching you, that you won’t tell about this or about anything. If you wanted to, you would’ve already. And most importantly, he simply doesn’t want to believe you could be someone like that. He isn’t a coward. Not all the time. He takes a chance on you, here, now. 

“Are you on birth control?” he asks. You nod your head. “Have you been tested lately?” You nod your head again. He smiles. “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” 

You check yes — or at least he thinks. You kiss him tenderly, more tenderly than is good for him, and you both fall back into your hurried, lust riddled motions. You take his growing hard on in your hand and guide him into you. You lean your forehead on his and let him sheath himself inside of you. He goes slowly, wincing against the warmth of you squeezing around him. It feels so fucking good—dangerously good. He forgets about the stupid movie and the bosses down stairs and all that miserable shit about ruining their rugs.  

“Do you like it when I’m mean to you?” you whisper, once he’s fully inside. He looks at you, amused, and shrugs his shoulders. 

“I don’t know. Seems like it.”

“Do you think you’d like if…If I was controlling?”

He hums against your shoulder, bringing your body closer to his. “How so?” he asks. He begins guiding your hips, lifting you gently off his cock and slowly back down. 

“Make you beg,” you say quietly. “Maybe call you names, if you want. Maybe tell you how good you are when I think you’re good.”He twitches inside of you and you smile. He smiles too. 

“Actors are so self absorbed,” he jokes.

“Your movie wasn’t bad,” you assure again, more kindly. He doesn’t respond. He kisses the place between your neck and your shoulder. You quicken the pace that you ride him in and he nods gratefully, sighing softly. His knees draw up and you reposition slightly, feeling him more deeply inside of you as you grind back down into him. 

“Do you want to cum?” you ask him. You drive your hips up, gripping onto the hands he has on your hips, making him move in your slow, teasing pace once again. He bites at his bottom lip and doesn’t respond. You stop moving. He flashes his eyes up at you, annoyed and aroused and vaguely infatuated. “Of course,” he breathes out. 

“Tell me,” you taunt back. You resist when he tries to move you back down and he groans, but you feel him twitch in you again. 

“I know you want me to fuck you too,” he counters. 

“Sure,” you nod, “But remember: I’ve already cum three times and you’ve cum none. I think I can withhold far longer than you.”

He can’t help but smirk. That’s not good enough for you. You want him far gone for you, incoherent practically. You rise off his cock completely and he lurches forward, groaning. “No!” he says. “I want to cum!” he says, pawing at you. “Please!”

You hover over his glistening cock and pout. “Didn’t seem like it,” you taunt, moving your hips over him but not touching. His lips part but no words come out. “I want it to seem like it. You’re a big boy, Bravo and you can use your words, can’t you? I hate a man who can’t use his words—who’s afraid to.” You lean down, close to his ear. “I hate a coward.” 

“I—I can use my words,” he stutters. His fingers brush against your hips. “Please, just climb back on me and keep riding me. I—I need that.”

“Tell me.” 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “I need it so bad.” 

You grab his cock, stroke it lazily. “Again,” you say. His face twists up in what could be either pleasure or pain and he says, “Please. I need it. Need you.” 

He’s as hard and desperate as he was before. You kiss him hard on the mouth and allow him to take over again, guiding you down onto him this time. He flips you over, lays you down against the ground, and drives into you. You gasp and he smiles like he’s won a prize. 

“Can I—“ he fills you to the hilt. “—is it alright if I…Can I cum in you?”

You nod your head. He looks at you and you understand he wants more than just a nod. “Yes,” you answer. 

It doesn’t take much more than that. He gathers up your legs, drives into you with one or two more inspired thrusts, and then he’s growing rigid against your body, hot spurts of his cum filling you. He exhales softly into your neck. You think he might apologize for a moment but he doesn’t. Instead he thanks you. 

“Feel better?” you ask. He nods. 

“Much,” he says. “Hell—I might really be starting to think that the movie wasn’t so bad.” When he looks at you, you can tell he’s kidding. 

“Well,” you joke back, “At least even the bad movies get you fucked, huh?”

[skepwith]

Revenge Master Post

Here’s all my info, research, and speculation about OFMD’s Revenge.

Parts of the Revenge: an illustrated guide to what to call the various decks, masts, pointy bits, etc.

More Parts of the Revenge: includes season 2’s Hidden Room for People Who Are Not Well.

Yet More Parts of the Revenge: sails and rigging, plus whatever I couldn’t fit anywhere else.

Shipboard Timekeeping: the glass, the bell, and the various watches

Diagrams

Diagrams of the full ship (most up-to-date)

Diagram of the gun deck

Diagram of the great cabin

My conclusions explained, with supporting screencaps, illustrations, and occasional historical tidbits

Why you wouldn’t want to make love in the crow’s nest, or It’s the maintop, dammit!

Where everybody goes to the bathroom

The gun deck, Jim’s room, and the staircase to the great cabin

The great cabin, the mizzenmast, and deck prisms

The main hatches and the ladder

The futility of it all

Proof that it’s bigger on the inside, or Where are the corner windows???

A behind-the-scenes look at the stern, with the author of all our troubles

[quaggyday]

Undertale yellow au fic

Notes

-Shoutout to @s0ckh3adstudios for allowing me her au! Make sure to check out Undertale gold au first for context.

-I have no idea when I'm updating this cause of other things but when I finish this I'll post all the chapters on ao3 all together and with links here.

-Feel free to ask questions about this in reblogs or comments!

-Possible updates in the future too.

-Like Father like child, Goldstar solves all his problems with gun and hat.

Anyway enjoy!

This is it. This is the end of the journey. Standing on the desolate cliff of New home all Kanako sees is yellow leaves drifting far away and hears only the silence of the underground. She takes one final breath and keeps going.

“Hey kid look! It's them!” Mo exclaims and just up ahead beneath the yellow leafed tree are two figures. Kanako and Mo both run up ahead and only stop to listen. Both of them let the atmosphere hide their presence for now.

“Star, I’m telling you right now this can’t possibly be the answer. Let’s just go back” Ceroba pleads, not as Sheriff Fireheart- just Ceroba Ketsukane.  

“Ceroba, there’s nothing left to go back to. All that’s left now is to find Rover”. He takes a breath. “You can’t stop me”

Both monsters enter a stare down and for a beat no words are spoken. “Well I can still try” Ceroba almost whispers. It leaves some sort of regret on her friends face.

“Alright look”  Mo finally says, paw keeping Kanako behind him- it startles the duo standing at the center of the cliff. “The kid knows the truth and so do I. Frankly I barely get any of this weirdness but it has got to stop now” he demands. 

Ceroba is the first to respond, her voice in a sort of panic when she looks at the human and yells “Kanako why are you here? You were supposed to stay back at the dunes!”. Starlo doesn’t say anything, a terrifying normality.

The kitsune turns her head back and faces her friend once more, eyes determined to get through this. “Starlo, please I know everything’s gone wrong but I swear it can be fixed. Rover can still be out there and we can find them some other way”

Her words have no effect. Starlo only stands with an unreadable gaze and Kanako has no idea what to do. Everything she has found, the pages, the purple crops, the idea of a kid already gone- none of it helps now.

“All of us know what fallen down means Ceroba. There’s no hope here. Nothing matters now then what needs to be finished. The monster's words have never felt more hollow- more empty of anything but a mission. “Let me finish this”.

It's a quick realization but Mo catches on what will happen next. He grabs Kanako’s hand and shouts “You can’t have Kanako! Sheriff, I'm getting her out of here!”.

“Move then!” is the response Mo gets. The raccoon monster rushes away, shielding his friend and heading back the way they came.

But it's too late.

There’s a bang of a weapon and Mo is stopped in his tracks and falls to the ground, bringing Kanako down with him. “Dammit!” Ceroba curses and quickly she finally goes for an attack.

Kanako can hear a fight from her blurred vision, but as she wipes the dirt from her eyes she finds Ceroba kneeled with claws around her staff. Both of them have been taken out.

Even still Kanako gets back up, facing the monster in front of her like a hero in a comic book. Starlo stands with his revolver grasped in his hand and his cloak billowing to the east. He looks like a villain she saw in a movie once- but not really.

“It’s just us now,” he says and there’s sorrow and remorse in his voice. But there's also something that wasn’t ever killed either.

“You're a good person Kanako. You’ve earned my respect, truly. But right now things aren’t right and you probably know that too.”

“This has to be done. Farewell”.

Nothing left to say.

There’s no going back now.

Starlo is quick and his revolver fires with a white light at a blistering speed. Kanako dodges each attack and only nearly avoids every tiny pellet that flashes and bombards her. A whirlwind of bullets flash and rip past again and again, then the attacks change to dynamite that explodes in circles far too close.

The fires of shots only continue with each one keeping Kanako on her feet. Compared to her numerous other fights through the underground this should be easy but it's only a ticking clock. Her words find no way to convince Starlo and each time he shoots or throws it’s not enough for either of them to stop and give up.

For what feels too long Starlo says nothing and Kanako keeps moving. She tries to say anything at all, tries to heal with the things she brought for the end, tries to show what justice means. She needs to find the answer, find it now. But she can’t, not yet and certainly not when dozens of little stars are dashing and shooting across the battlefield. She’s afraid, and yet she’s still here.

And then Starlo stops and only stares- and then he shoots. His final bullet is so fast and so bright it catches the hero off guard. There’s no way she can dodge, no possible way for her to even do anything at all. It will end things all at once.

But something finds itself within Kanako. Something pulsing deep within herself, something hero’s find in their greatest struggles. She takes a breath and only lets her SOUL fire.

A yellow ball of glorious justice rushes forward and breaks the lightspeed bullet, and hits Starlo in the process. He falls back and a silence fills the air- but he still gets up like nothing happened. This time he stands with more than just determination.

“Guess there’s no other choice now” he says, baring his teeth. He takes from his pocket a pin- the moon, the sun, and the stars circling each other like a family. Photo’s alone cannot describe the memories that must live in those pins.

“I will not Dalv’s death be in vain” he utters with a shattering fury. “I will not let Rover’s sacrifice be for nothing”. 

“Your soul is mine”

“YOUR SOUL BELONGS TO MONSTERKIND”

With that, the pin is placed onto his cloak and everything becomes dark.

The ground shakes and groans, everything moving and rushing all at once. Kanako’s vision is entrenched in black, the only thing she can find is the formation of four blue stars slowly blink to life from the depths of the void.

And then levitating ever so slightly is a monster, cloak now a shade of blue light and stars dancing upon the fabric. The pin is glowing with the vibrance of fierce power and a fire hotter than any planet grows behind the star, the monster.

It’s time for justice to be served.

[apomaro-mellow]

WIP Weekend

im just gonna go ahead and post everything ive written for my Buddy Daddies au bc my muse went up in smoke and idk when im ever gonna give this attention again

He let out a heavy breath and pushed some of his hair out of his face. Most of it was tied up in a bun. His hands were covered in leather gloves. The suit he wore was pitch black. Steve called it a uniform. Eddie called it a costume. Dressing up for a role made it easier to get in the mindset he needed. His back was against the wall leading into the warehouse as he checked his gun. Three bullets. Dammit he forgot to reload before leaving the apartment.

Three would have to do. There were only two guys anyway. He took another breath to harden himself and then ran in, only to immediately be under fire from more than three guys. 

“Your intel was complete shit Harrington!”, Eddie hissed, knowing his partner would hear him in his earpiece. He dove behind a stack of crates.

Then Eddie heard gunfire from above and grunts of pain. 

“My intel is flawless, Munson. You just don’t listen.”

Eddie peeked out to see two of the guys down and Steve raining gunfire from the rafters above. Eddie joined, eliminating all but the actual target. Steve swung down from a rope and Eddie rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to comment on the guy’s swashbuckling act. He was already dressed like a guy from an 80’s cop flick. Tight jeans, shirt halfway unbuttoned, leather jacket on top. All he was missing was the sunglasses. 

All in all, it was ironic, given their actual career. The two of them walked to the center of the room where a man in a cheap suit whimpered on his knees.

“Please, please, I’ll tell you anything you want. I’ll DO anything you want!”

Steve smirked. “Sorry pal, you just happened to piss off the wrong gu-”

~The wheels are rollin’ rollin’, ey! The wheels are rollin’ rollin’, ey! The wheels are rollin’ rollin’, ey! The wheels are-

“Hello?”, Steve picked up his phone gun still trained on the man before him. 

When the guy tried to scramble away, Eddie fired a warning shot just inches from his foot. If that didn’t do the trick, then his glare definitely told him to stay still.

“Sorry, that was the tv, let me just turn that down”, Steve frowned at Eddie who frowned right back. “Hm? What about Melanie? She’s not feeling well? A temperature?” If possible, his frown towards Eddie deepened.

“She looked fine this morning when I dropped her off!”, Eddie said in his defense. “And we had to take this job!”

“What’s more important? Your job or your daughter!?”, Steve shrieked before speaking back on his phone. “I’m so sorry, we’ll be there to take her home right away.”

“You’re gonna make me the bad guy and I’m not the bad guy”, Eddie said as he shot the target in the stomach, causing him to groan.

“You are so in the doghouse, it’s not even funny”, Steve finished the job by shooting the target in the head. “Now come on! We’ve gotta get our kid!”

Steve walked ahead, making his way to Eddie’s bike. Eddie was shooting daggers at his head and he looked at his gun for a second.

“Don’t even waste your time. I know you’re empty”, Steve said as he mounted the bike.

Three months earlier…

Steve and Eddie sat in an empty bar. Eddie had his hair down and was dressed more casually in jeans and a leather jacket with pins. Behind the bar was a woman with short hair and suspenders.

“I do have a job for you guys, but it’s fine if you take a break, you know? It’s the holidays.”

“Assassins don’t take holidays, Robin”, Steve said. “Just give it to us.”

“Okay, I actually didn’t want you guys to take it on because…okay just look.” She took out a folder and Steve opened it.

Inside were documents related to the hit, which included a picture of the man they were supposed to kill. Steve froze and Eddie put his drink down mid-sip to look at it, a wide grin threatening to break his face in half.

“Oh, Buckley, Buckley, Big Bucks Buckley, I can’t believe you wanted to give this guy to someone else.”

“Don’t get too excited”, Steve grumbled.

He dropped the photo. The man in it shared an incredible likeness to Steve. 

Robin gave them the basics, the target, who he had pissed off, how much they’d get paid for taking care of him. But it was Steve’s job to figure out just how to do that. Luckily, he had a good enough handle on social cues and the perfect amount of charisma to get info from people. And sometimes that required sleeping with people.

Well, ‘required’ made it sound like he only did it for a job. Sure, as he woke up next to this woman and copied her work ID, it was to help with the assignment. But he would have enjoyed it otherwise. She was gorgeous. But he got what he wanted, so he slipped from her apartment silently, deep finished.

The operation would begin on Christmas Eve. Little did either man know, they’d be getting their own Christmas surprise.

The day of, Steve put on his disguise - Santa Claus. Normally he wouldn’t bother with something so elaborate, but Santa was the best camouflage this time of year. And a good beard was great for covering his identity. This time their hit would be having a party at their penthouse, organized by the wife. All Steve had to do was get past security with his Trojan horse of a cake.

Using the stolen credentials, Steve entered the building, and then the elevator, pushing a cart with a very large box on top of it. He didn’t realize he was being tailed until it began to rise.

“Hi Santa!”, a little voice piped up.

“Hm?” Steve looked on the other side of the box and saw a little girl. She couldn’t be any older than five, maybe not even that. “Uhh, hi?”

“Did you get my Christmas list?”, she asked.

“Well, of course I did”, Steve said, putting on a voice now. She must be the daughter of a tenant. Whatever. She’d get off on her floor and he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. Eddie should already be scaling the building, ensuring their exit point once they did the job.

“I can’t believe you’re here! Dontchu gotta be at the North Pole?”

“I’m here to deliver a present early”, Steve said.

She had brown hair with a slight curl to it and deep brown eyes. She was cute, he could admit. But he wasn’t able to do anything with cute right now. He got to the top floor and pulled the cart out of the elevator. 

“Do you know my Christmas wish?”, she asked, eyes still sparkling.

“O-of course I do”, Steve stammered a bit, not expecting her to follow him. He was in the hall and just a few doors down from where he needed to be. Maybe she got off because it was her floor too?

“Good! I came a suuuuper long way to find my daddy”, she said, putting her serious face on. “Can I have some cake?”

Steve looked at the cake atop the cart. Whipped cream frosting and fresh berries and powdered sugar. He commended her for taking this long to ask. And, well, Steve was a bit of a softie.

“Okay”, he whispered in a conspiratorial way. “Just one little taste.”

She clapped her hands and Steve picked her up so she could swipe her finger against the side. She licked the cream off with an ‘mmmm!’ and he set her back down.

“I’m in position”, Eddie said over his comm.

Steve looked away as he replied, “Roger that. Dropping off the package now.”

He thought he heard the giggling fade and maybe even some footsteps pad away.

[undeath1245]

How I'd imagine episode eight would start off...

Uzi is now seemingly floating in orbit looking at Copper-9 and its core collapse.

Uzi: "Wh- What is this?"

Nori: (floating next to Uzi) "It's our planet, Copper-9, more specifically during the time of the core collapse. Hmm, it seems like we're in some sort of weird mindscape, considering how we could both hear each other in outer space, and not to mention those weird things over there."

Uzi then glances over to the weird things floating in the mindscape, like pieces of the mansion, the labs, dead trees, and lamp posts.

Nori: (sighs) "I guess this means that our bodies are being digested as we speak."

A long pause occurs between them.

Nori: "Well, I guess we could find a way to escape this hellish place and-"

Uzi: "MOM! MOM! FREAKIN' MOM!"

Nori: "Oh, dammit."

Uzi: "MOM! Mom! You're mom! You're my dead mom! Oh, my God!"

Each of their dialogue starts overlapping with each other.

Nori: "Uzi. Uzi. Uzi. Uzi. Uzi. Hey. Hey. Uzi. Uzi. Uzi. Uzi. Hey, Uzi. Uzi. Uzi. Uzi! Uzi!"

Uzi: "I can't believe it, you're mom! You were dead! Dad told me you were dead, when I was about five or something! I- I spent my whole life trying to get back at the murder drones for killing you. But then, I started to look at a bigger picture and began plotting my revenge against JCJenson. But then, I decided that revenge against a corporation was pretty boring. So, I went to a different target, and began plotting my unneeded revenge against humanity and stuff! I then began to conceptualize weapons to use against the meat people, but first, I wanted to free my people and stuff, so I began to conceptualize weapons to use against the murder drones, like my super sick-as-hell railgun. My dumb classmate, Brendan, says that it was more like a super laser gun than an actual railgun. But then, I said, 'Well, I hope you get your head sliced off, Brendan!'"

Eventually, Nori has had enough.

Nori: "UZI!!!"

Uzi: "Uh, mom?"

Nori: "Ugh, yes, I'm your mother, the one person you presumed was dead for about 15 years. To be honest, I thought I was dead myself."

Uzi: "So, what happened?"

Nori: "I guess I could try to abridge this explanation."

That's all I could write for now. I was thinking of writing a flashback scene, but I got stuck.

[misslisamiray]

Time for this weeks's excerpt from my Rick and Morty fanfic, Down With the Rickness. Before we get started, I just have a couple of quick things to mention.

Current page count (for those of you who are new here, my old-school self has to handwrite my fics first): 84! I'll post another of those "me holding up the pages" pics when it hits 90. 😊

This is going to be the last of these little excerpts, but don't be sad: That's only because next week I plan to start posting actual chapters instead!

I mentioned in a previous update that Rick's ideas for dealing with his cold are questionable at best (in other words, dangerous and absolutely terrible). So, for the last excerpt before I start posting the fic for real, please enjoy an example of that. Morty is very much not enjoying any of it. 😅

Morty ran into the garage, and was immediately taken aback by the sight in front of him. Rick was dressed in his normal clothes again, but his labcoat was crooked and sliding down his left shoulder. He had a sock and shoe on his left foot, but a slipper on his right. His belt was unbuckled, and Morty was fairly sure his shirt was on backwards. He was trying to keep his blankets - there were now three of them - wrapped around himself while he set up another experiment, and had to keep pausing to adjust them.

The experiment in question? Well, it wasn't clear exactly what Rick was trying to accomplish, but he'd gathered the blood sample he took earlier, a couple of petri dishes, and some used tissues, and was arranging all of them on the garage floor... in front of a large ray gun on a pedestal.

"What the hell do you think you're doing now, Rick?! Whatever it is, stop!" Morty yelled, startling Rick and causing him to stumble forward and bump into the ray gun. This led to it flipping so it was facing the roof, which it immediately shot a hole through.

"Ow! Dammit, Morty! Look what you made me do!" Rick complained, rubbing his forehead where he'd hit the ray gun.

"Uh-huh. Weird way to thank me for that hole ending up in the roof and not your head." Morty said wearily.

"Okay, so this wasn't on the right setting for what I'm *Cough!* trying to do just now. But I would've figured that out on my own without your so-called help." Rick grumbled, turning a dial on the ray gun and repositioning it so it was once again aimed at the assortment of things on the floor.

"And what exactly are you trying to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? I hate to admit it, Morty, but you were right about the idea I had before being terrible. *Sniff!* Shrinking you down to microscopic size to talk to the virus? I don't, don't know what I was thinking with that." Rick admitted as he added the blood sample to one of the petri dishes. The pile of blankets slid down a little, and he started shivering again.

Noticing that, Morty helped adjust them around Rick's shoulders, saying, "Glad you realized that, but you still didn't answer my question."

"Huh? Oh, *Cough!* right. As I was saying, making you or a clone or a robot germ-sized is not the right way to handle this situation at all. In fact, the way to deal with it is the exact opposite. What I need to do for this negotiation thing to work is make the germs human-sized." Rick explained matter-of-factly.

"Rick, no! Don't you see how that's even worse than your original plan?!" Morty asked, rightfully horrified.

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #12

This week we're taking a slight detour from the main chapters of PKNA to read the very first PKNA Special Issue: Missing! (Which came out in 1997 alongside the release of Silicon). This chapter is basically the equivalent of an anime OVA where we get to see the various characters just kinda hangin out and doin stuff outside the main plot, which I think is fun!!

Oh boy haha can't wait to see which of the colorful cast of characters we'll be focusing on fi-

OH NO

No cause like she fuckin got his ass here. I think if PKNA took place in 2024 then Angus Fangus would have a verified account on twitter and every time he posts about PK there would be people in his replies like "oh rent must be due" just roasting the shit out of him. And they would be right too.

Bro AI generated a photo of PK stealing ice cream from a child 😭

Woah dude that's crazy. Could you imagine like, an evil toy manufacturer? Like some sort of toy-based villain. Maybe one that hates video games and dresses like a clo-

DID HE JUST KILL HIMSE

oh nvm there was a balcony. dammit

THEY WHITEWASHED ZIGGY?!??!?!?! NOOOOOOOOOOOO

See I TOLD you it was the anime OVA, they're at the beach and everything! Just look at that FANSERVICE!

I'm talking about Camera 9 in his little beach outfit btw. What did you think I meant? Lyla? What does this have to do with Lyla

So PK is missing and her first instinct is to go and check the jail 💀 I mean I can't say that he WOULDN'T get arrested by the time police I just think it's really funny

Screaming wait I love overly-confident Lyla

he's died

So Camera 9 won't talk to her and she PULLS A FUCKING GUN ON HIM. Cop moment.

...wait wasn't Camera 9 wearing shorts earlier? Where did his shorts go???

UNOOOOOOO HI UNO

"biological associate" is a really fancy way of saying your boyfrie

No cause like I'm obsessed with the resolution to this story. Dude kept his grudge for 250 years, get fucking owned Raider.

Bro shows up for two whole panels just so he can manspread and make a cheeky time reference. I'm exploding him with my mind.

AAAAAH EW OLD MAN JUMPSCARE shoutout to the picture of HDL though

WOW how lucky for Xadhoom to have found an entire thriving colony of her people!!! So happy for her :)

Also PK is there too for some reason

SHE'S SO HAPPY IT'S MAKING ME DEPRESSED

Yeahhhh they really didn't think this one through did they

WAIT THE NEPHEWS ARE HERE?? WHEN DID THEY GET BACK FROM AFRICA

WH- YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN THIS COMIC YET??

You gotta love them dedicating a story to two random Evronian goons and then having it end with both of them just being murdered by Xadhoom. Like they never EXPLICITLY say that Xadhoom is killing the Evronians when she fights them but we all know that's what she's doing right.

Gotta love Donald vanishing off the face of the Earth so he could fuck off to Tibet with Everett Ducklair 💀 Levitating would be a useful skill to have if he didn't like immediately forget how to do it after this oops

Anyways that's all for today. I really like the PKNA special issues they're all really fun and silly and nothing bad happens in them ever!! So look forward to reading the next one in uuuh idk like 10 more issues or something?