#((but I had fun putting all my thoughts down in writing ^^;))

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 9: The One Where You Choose Your Own Brazilian Adventure

My planned post – the “In Dedication of JVN” one where I fangirl over Jonathan Van Ness and what a fun and interesting piece of the Lukola puzzle he is – was derailed today because I was once again asked about Brazil. Well, more specifically, I was asked about whether I thought we were ever going to get those steamy, hopefully X-rated pictures, from Brazil. There’s pictures?!

In truth, I thought we’d collectively squeezed that grapefruit dry and left the rind somewhere between Italy and the Glamour Awards.

Alas, here I am writing about Brazil.

It’s funny because I’ve never thought much about Brazil. I know, I know! How could I possibly type those words without my nose growing six inches in front of my face? Well, it’s because it was always Australia that intrigued me. More on that later…

So why exactly do we believe there are pictures from Brazil? And, why do we think they are going to prove some kind of hot affair between Luke and Nicola? This theory is likely fueled by rumor; rumor born from how Luke and Nicola behaved towards each other while they were in Brazil.

I thought it would be fun to play a little game of “Choose Your Own Adventure” to determine if we’re ever going to see these alleged pictures. And, yes, I will be a very sarcastic bitch when doing this.

Before I start, though, I want to give a quick shout out to my dear friend, whom I shall call The-One-Who-Drops-Random-Pics-Into-Our-Group-Chat-and-Lets-Us-Sweat-Over-Them-for-Atleast-Three-Minutes-Before-Finally-Explaining-Them. She was a wealth of information about Brazil and even had a nice mother-daughter chat with me about the significance of a clean-shaven face (pardon me for never having dated a bearded man, which is odd because I find facial hair quite attractive).

Now, gather ‘round and I shall give you a little prologue to our adventure!

I’m sure most of you already know all about Brazil. In fact, many of you are probably self-described experts at this point. But, for those who are new here, let me go ahead and light the candles and set the ambiance for you. 

On May 19, Luke and Nicola were shuttled off to do their beach photoshoot in Brazil. You know, the one where Nicola was walking the dogs; Luke was strumming the guitar; Nicola was being all girlfriend-like fixing Luke’s jacket; Luke was gazing up at Nicola at the pub while she was touching his neck; and then there was that moment when we all thought they might kiss. Yeah, all that plus Luke’s scruffy face from the week prior suddenly appeared clean-shaven. Apparently, you can never be too “Casual” when you’re headed down south (pun intended – as was that Chappell Roan reference). And, about now is where I’ll “insert disclaimer that this is speculation only.”

The following day, we had the actual premiere. I’m not sure what those two were up to before the premiere but both were un-fucking-hinged by the time they made it to the red carpet. We had angel-face Nicola looking up at Luke like he had created the universe and Luke answering Nicola’s Little Red Riding Hood vibe with one sexy ass Big Bad Wolf persona. I mean, the bits and bobs that came out of Luke’s mouth that day! “There’s a carriage downstairs.” “I mean, in this heat, all I’m thinking about is when we didn’t have to wear clothes ‘cos that would be quite nice right now.” “I mean the show is proof that it is [okay to kiss your friends].” With Nicola whispering back, “This is true.” Then there was Luke taking that mic without taking his eyes off Nicola. We had Luke helping Nicola put on her bracelets because – God forbid! – she let go of him for 30 seconds to do it her fucking self. And, let’s not forget about the two of them holding on to each other behind that woman’s back (I’m sorry, I don’t recall her name and I’m too lazy to look it up – mainly, because I’m certain most of you don’t really care about that other woman).

We were also given snippets of Luke and Nicola at the premiere afterparty, looking like two people who, at a minimum, enjoyed each other’s company. They greeted fans outside the venue and, as they walked away together, Nicola seemingly put her hand on Luke’s lower back as if to guide him in the right direction (go ahead – let your imagination run wild – it’s a great opening for a FanFic).

Then, throw in the beach walk with the giant security guard; the interview where Nicola was wearing the fluffy pink skirt and the two of them talked about Chappell Roan’s “Kaleidoscope” (seriously, those two were listening to that song together?); Nicola couldn’t stop giggling about the “meat” of the Carriage Scene; and Luke appeared perhaps a smidge too interested in Nicola’s answer about what she looks for in a man (which fit perfectly into Luke’s “Like, how nice is it when someone notices, like, your kindness or your sense of humor?”). And, we can’t ignore them seemingly sharing a tea cup and Luke reaching for Nicola’s spoon after she’d sampled a dish. Don’t even get me started on over-analyzing Luke’s “manspread” that day.

Let’s also not forget about the rumor portion of this Brazilian escapade – because that is what fuels the sexy hot pictures theory and the central plot of our storied adventure.

Rumor has it Luke and Nicola spent a lot of time with each in Brazil.

By themselves.

In one or the other’s room.

On the beach.

By the pool.

There were also rumors of them making out in the hotel hallway.

The only evidence we have of any “alone time” are some pictures that were dumped on X of them dining together alone, without any other members of their team.

Now that the backdrop has been set, let’s go on my little adventure.

During the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, I was bored out of my mind. I grew up in the countryside. No neighbors. No sidewalks. No cable! Just fields, wooded areas, and my two sisters, both of whom had no interest in entertaining me that summer. My mother suggested I read. After boredom had dug itself so far into my being that I was left with no choice but to read, I finally ventured over to the bookshelf and grabbed the thinnest book I could find. It was a “Choose Your Own Adventure.”

If you don’t know what a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book is, then you (and your children) are missing out. Basically, you play the role of the protagonist and make choices to determine the outcome of your story. Sometimes you make the right choice and survive; other times you make the wrong choice and get turned into a little mouse that may or may not be eaten by a cat.

Here we go.

As the protagonist of our story, you are:

THE EMPLOYEE

You’re an employee of the hotel Nicola and Luke stayed at while in Brazil. You have sworn to maintain the privacy of hotel guests; you’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement of sorts to protect the privacy of guests, especially since you have access to VIP areas. You can be a housekeeper, a watchman, a concierge, a seven-foot-tall security guard, whatever tickles your fancy. Doesn’t matter – you’re all bound by the same provisions to protect the privacy of the hotel’s guests. But, in this story, let’s say you’re the housekeeper because – what’s that old saying – the only person who knows everything going on in the house is the maid?

You’re cleaning Nicola’s room and you find lots of signs of a man being in the room. In fact, you find a coat that looks exactly like the one Luke was wearing the night of the premiere. Oh my. As you’re leaving, you see two people making out in the hallway – headed straight towards the room you’re just leaving!  It looks like Nicola and Luke. What do you do?

Choice A: Well, you’re a pervy housekeeper so you pull your phone out and start taking pictures. I mean, those two are so into each other, they don’t even notice. You then run and play show-and-tell with your friends because you can’t keep a damn secret. Unfortunately for you, that gossip spreads faster than lice in a preschool, and hotel management tracks your ass down because, guess what, your friends can’t keep a secret either. So, congratulations on being fired. You’re meeting with the lawyers is first thing in the morning. Oh, we also need your phone and the names of all your friends.

Choice B: You respect the privacy of Nicola and Luke and simply turn and walk the opposite direction. Taking photos of them never even crossed your mind! But, damn, what a good story to tell your bestie when you get home, even if you don’t have “receipts.”

THE VIP GUEST

You’re a random guest staying at the hotel. In fact, you’re a random VIP guest staying on the same floor as Nicola and Luke. When you checked in, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. I mean, you want your privacy protected, too! And, heck, NDAs are thrown out like candy these days. You’ve seen so many at this point, you don’t even bother to read them.

You take the elevator up to your floor and, as you step into the hallway, you’re confronted with – goddammit, there’s two motherfuckers all over each other! The guy is trying to slide his key into the door, but the woman’s dress is so awkwardly large, he can’t seem to find the right slot! You realize the people look a lot like those two stars from Bridgerton, and your best friend, Effie, is a huge fan! What do you do?

Choice A: You can’t believe Effie is missing out on this excitement so, of course, you pull your phone out and start taking pictures!! I mean, that NDA you signed didn’t even cross your mind three minutes later when you were forwarding the pictures to Effie! And, because you can’t control what Effie does, she forwards the pictures to all her Bridgie buddies. The next morning you awaken to find the pictures all over X. Oopsie. You feel slightly guilty, and a bit peeved at Effie – but only until you’ve had your morning coffee.

Choice B: You take people’s privacy very seriously. Well, maybe you don’t take it that seriously, but it would be too difficult to dig your phone out of your handbag to take pictures. And, to be honest, Effie is the huge fan, not you. Plus, it seems the guy finally got that door open and damn, based on the sounds of it, he's unlocked something magical. Oh well. You’ll call Effie in the morning to tell her your story, if you remember it.

THE RANDOM STRANGER

You’re a random stranger taking an evening stroll along the beach. You love the sound of the ocean. It’s so peaceful…the sound of the waves… Ugh, what is that noise?! It sounds like – shit, it is! – two people snogging in a cabana about 10 yards away from you. Wait a minute – is that? Yeah, you think it could be! I mean, you were just at the Bridgerton premiere last night! What do you do? Without hesitation, you pull out your phone!

Choice A: You creep behind an umbrella and zoom in as close as possible with your camera! I mean, shite! You can’t believe this! How long have you been filming?  Probably longer than necessary but who cares? Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you, perhaps a seven-foot-tall presence, and you slowly turn around. Fuck! Who’s this guy?! He takes your phone, drops it to the ground, and stomps on it, shattering its insides.  Asshole.  You bend down to pick up the phone, but the man taps your shoulder and shakes his head, “No.” Well, umm, yeah, I guess you best be leaving.

Choice B: You use your camera to zoom in on the couple. Snap! Snap! Snap! Then you get the FUCK OUT OF THERE! You tell yourself you don’t look suspicious at all, even though you’re practically running and your heart is about to pound its way out of your chest! Oh, thank God, you’ve made it to your car. You start it up and, like I said, YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! You get home and take a look at the photos! Goldmine! So, should you drop them on X? Maybe be a little see-you-next-Tuesday and try to sell them to Nicola or Luke’s teams? But, hell, you don’t even know where to start with that! Or, should you just pocket them for your own pleasure? You tell me….

The End.

Yes, I am absolutely being a facetious little ass! The above scenarios were for (the most part) my own entertainment. I mean, there are so many situations where these alleged pictures could exist (these playful ones don’t even scratch the surface). But, do the pictures exist?

If we’re being logical here, you would think that, if anyone in the general public were in possession of these alleged sexy-time pictures of Luke and Nicola, or had seen them, it would be all over social media at this point. I mean, ALL OVER. So, what can we deduce from the fact that they aren’t?

That the pictures probably don’t exist. Don’t shoot the messenger! Seriously, watch where you point that thing!

But, let’s say pictures did exist. Who is the most likely person to dump them on, say, X? The hotel employee, the VIP guest, or the random stranger? I would place money on the random stranger, followed by the VIP guest. The hotel employee, who probably has the most access to VIP guests but the strongest legal barriers, would be the least likely to photo dump. What is the likelihood that someone from one of these three groups – for example, a random stranger – (a) had pictures of Luke and Nicola, (b) didn’t drop them on social media, and/or (c) didn’t share them with someone who dropped them on social media?

I’m all for a good conspiracy theory but I find this one to be a hard pill to swallow.

Maybe one person can act as a lockbox for this kind of secret, but when you start including more people, the ability to keep something (like illicit photographs of two celebrities) out of the public eye diminishes rapidly.

Remember what Benjamin Franklin said, “Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

Unfortunately, this quote is incredibly accurate. The general public cannot keep secrets.

If the pictures exist, they are most likely in the possession of Luke and/or Nicola’s team (of lawyers). So, unless they’re going to sneak them on to X for giggles (I mean, it’s been known to happen), you’re probably never going to see them – and that’s assuming they even exist.

However, if you’re the housekeeper from our first adventure and you happen to have some candid photographs you’re just dying to share, just find yourself a printer – one that cannot easily be linked back to you – and print them out. Then, “accidently” drop them at the feet of someone who knows exactly what they are, and then give them enough time to take their own photos of them and send them to their best friend’s brother’s sister-in-law’s third cousin’s wife’s neighbor, who could drop them on X for us. I mean, you should be golden with seven degrees of separation.

[livelaughloveluffy]

yearning - roronoa zoro

a/n: maybe it's because of my green hair, but zoro's been on the brain badddddd recently and i can't stop thinking about him and wanting him, so because i can't hold this man and tell him how much i love him, here's this fic instead 😭😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

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one sleepless night on the thousand sunny, you could not longer stand the tossing and turning in bed, and decided to step outside to get some fresh sea air, enjoy the night sky, and the sounds of the crashing waves.

however, the second you stepped outside of the girl's dorm, your eyes were drawn to the brooding green-haired swordsman with a bottle of sake in his hand, left alone on night watch.

zoro was a man of few words; one of extreme loyalty, strong morals, and utter devotion to those important to him. it was easy to be a bit intimidated by him, from his strength to his appearance, and he wasn't exactly the most approachable straw hat. but you couldn't help but feel drawn into him.

•♡•

while exploring an island, luffy had accidentally run into some marines on patrol, leading to an all out battle while you and the crew ran for your lives, yet again.

and this time particularly sucked. as you were cornered, outnumbered, and weak from battle injuries. and as a group of marines were getting ready to close in on you, a sudden flash of bright green, the sound of spilled blood, and men collapsing around you so fast you could barely process what was happening.

•♡•

your heart skipped a beat when you thought about how zoro put himself into harm's way without hesitation, disregarding his own injuries, to save you. and knowing that it wasn't just you he would do it for, how he would put his life on the line for any of the crew members, how he wouldn't care about any hurt or injury he had to endure as long as no one else felt that pain, because he could bear it instead.

the swordsman refused thanks for his help in the battle, and any attempt of it was instantly shut down with his gruff voice murmuring "it's nothing.."

so when he frowned at his empty bottle of sake, sighing at his sudden lack of alcohol for night watch, you found yourself sneaking into the kitchen, grabbing another bottle, and gently walking over to him. the soft whisper of a small request "can i join you for a glass?" slipped out of your mouth.

and as the one-eyed swordsman turned his head, looking at the sake in your hand, then giving you his iconic smirk before replying "sure, if you can keep up with me." your heart warmed, your body relaxed, and for a moment, everything else in the world was absolutely perfect.

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tags ♡: @3v37773 @dindjarins1ut @thepotatocatto @irethepotato @dreamcastgirl99; want to join the taglist? click here!

a/n: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH CRYING SCREAMING AND THROWING UP THAT I CAN'T HAVE THIS IRL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i had so much fun writing this so i hope yall love it as much as i do

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[sinnabarmoth]

Broken Promises

Pairing: Rafayel x fem|Reader

Summary: Reader thinks that her relationship with Rafayel is a fling, some casual fun. Rafayel does not. So when he catches her flirting with other guys he is intent on making sure she knows that he did not wait 800 years to be a second choice.

Content warnings: Adult language. Hate fucking. Vaginal fingering. P in V.

Length: 5k

“Thank you for another fine day of work, miss bodyguard.”

You picked your head up from Rafayel’s shoulder and glared at him. 

“What’s that face for?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and sat up, the blanket that had been covering you slipped down exposing your naked chest which Rafayel took no precautions in hiding his ogling. You grabbed his chin and forced his gaze back up to your face. “Do not start calling you tricking me into coming over as work. You know I thought you were in actual danger?”

He melted into your touch, resting his chin fully in your hand like an attention starved puppy. “I was in danger.”

“A teeny tiny spider is not dangerous.” You let him go, crossing your arms over your chest so his view was obstructed.

“Sure it is. Do you know how many tiny spiders are super venomous? Black widow. Brown recluse. Yellow sac spider.” he ticked them off one by one on his fingers.

“Mister fish facts has spider facts too. How fun.” You rolled out of bed and started grabbing your scattered clothes from the floor and pulling them back on. How the hell did your panties get on the lamp? Did he chuck them like he was pitching for the Linkon Lions?

“Do you have to leave?” Rafayel asked, sitting up to watch you move around the room.

“Sure I do. I have work in the morning.”

“I could take you to work in the morning.”

“And wear what? The clothes I was in when I rushed over here? No thanks.” You didn’t think Jenna would be happy to see you at work wearing your lilac sweats and fuzzy character socks.

“I could send someone to pick up an outfit from your house.”

You glanced at him as you pulled your shirt back on. “You are super clingy tonight. Something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong it’s just…” he was staring down at the rumpled sheets of the bed, smoothing out the creases around him, “you always leave so soon after.”

“Well unlike a certain artist, I have duties and errands to run and can’t spend all my day in bed or on the couch…or in the hot tub…or against the wall--”

“Yeah yeah, I get it. You have a million things more important than me.” he slumped back against the headboard. “I’ll just stay here and rot won’t I. Waiting for my bodyguard to come check on me when she feels like it. Who knows if I’ll be even still be alive when she deigns me worthy of her attention.”

“You are so dramatic. Remember that you tricked me into coming over here to squish a spider and then corralled me into the bedroom almost immediately after.” you plonked down on the bed next to him. “If you want me to come over cause you want to have sex then you can just say that. We’re both adults.”

“Takes all the romance out of it then.”

“Now you’re worried about being romantic?” you shook your head. “Will wonders never cease.”

His expression did not soften out of his pout. With a small sigh you scooted closer. “Hey, how about I stop by tomorrow to see you after work. Okay?”

He perked up at that. “Promise?”

“Yeah. I’ll buy us some chicken and we can put on a movie that we will probably abandon watching for some other fun.” You held out a pinky to him. “I promise.”

He looped his pinky finger around yours. “You made a vow. You can’t break it now.”

“You are racking up vows, aren’t you? First to never keep you waiting, now this. If this keeps up we’re gonna have to start writing down all the promises we make.” you teased and his face fell again. Oh no.

You gave a little tug on your intertwined fingers and pulled him closer, placing a quick kiss on his mouth. “There. A vow sealed with a kiss. Feel better?”

“Much.” he smiled softly at you. “See you tomorrow, cutie.”

~~~

The work day was a long and tedious one. You had spent nearly all day patrolling and ended up fighting a whole horde of Wanderers that had taken up in an abandoned warehouse. By the end of the day you were in desperate need of some relaxation and perhaps a stiff drink. So when Tara announced that everyone was going out for drinks after work to celebrate the impressive job you and the other hunters did on raiding the warehouse you were more than happy to come along.

You were two drinks deep and starting on a third. The stress of the day melted away, replaced with the warm fuzziness that was your buzz. Thank goodness it was the weekend so you didn’t need to worry about getting up early with the hangover you were working towards developing.

At some point a drinking game got started. There was a piece of paper that had every body’s name written on it. The point of the game was that if some flipped a coin and it landed on that person’s name they had to drink. If it landed on a blank space they got to write a rule until the paper was completely full.

Soon the paper was full of outlandish rules, each getting progressively more “creative” the longer you went on. It was your turn and you flipped the coin. You had been aiming for Nero’s name and ended up hitting the rule an inch below it. “Text the last person you messaged a bad selfie.”

You sighed but pulled out your phone and brought up the camera. You twisted your face into a funny and unflattering expression and went to your messages. You couldn’t remember the last person you texted and prayed it wasn’t someone embarrassing.

Please don’t be Zayne. Please don’t be Zayne. Please don’t be Zayne!

You let out a small breath of relief seeing that Zayne was not in fact at the top of your messages. Rafayel was. You opened the chat and sent the picture without any context.

You rolled your eyes at your co-worker’s laughter and resumed watching the others play the game. Yet, you could not focus entirely. It felt like you were forgetting something but you couldn’t remember what. Trying to think with your head awash in cocktails wasn’t exactly helping your memory. All your brain was coming up with was chickens.

Well, if you couldn’t remember it couldn’t have been that important.

You leaned over towards the person next to you, he was another hunter but you hadn’t spoken all that much since he wasn’t on Alpha Team. You weren’t sure of his name but maybe it was Jasper or Jordan. To be blunt there wasn’t anything remarkable about him but he did have a very nice face and a rather infectious laugh. His arm had been resting against the back of your chair but now settled on your shoulders.

“So,” you leaned closer to be heard over the music of the bar, “if you are a hunter I’m guessing you have a preference on which weapon you like using.”

“I do.” he said. “Do you want to know?”

“No. I’m gonna guess but first I need your hand.” you held your hand out for him.

“Okay.” he said with an easy smile and held his hand up. “Why?”

“Think of it as palm reading, but instead of telling your future I’m telling your preferred weapon.” you placed your palm against his. “Hmm, yes.” You nodded very seriously before linking your hands together. “It’s coming to me. With big strong hands like this, your preferred weapon is a claymore.”

He smirked at your flirting. “That is quite the talent you have. I do indeed prefer the claymore. After handling it for so long, throwing anything around whether it be light or heavy is a piece of cake.”

“I bet that comes in handy.”

“It sure does.” he tugged you closer. “It comes in very handy for many different…scenarios.”

You couldn’t tell if the heat in your face was from the drink or his implication but either way it made you feel tingly all over.

“So, what are you doing after this?” Jacob or Jasper asked, his face a mere breath away from yours.

You were yanked back so hard you almost tipped out of your chair completely. You scrambled to see who had grabbed you and saw Rafayel standing above you, a fistful of the back of your shirt in his hand. “You broke your promise.”

~~~

Rafayel had felt something was wrong when his alarm went off that told him your shift had ended and he didn’t hear anything from you. Then a half hour had passed and there had still been no word from you. Maybe you had gone home to change. He tried texting you but had gotten no response. Your battery was low, surely. That’s why you hadn’t texted back.

After an hour he had started pacing, more excuses for your absence filtering through his brain. You could have been picking up the chicken like you said and there was a long line. That had to be it.

Two hours went by. Was there traffic?

Three hours. Maybe there was a Wanderer attack. Were you okay?

He was about ready to go out looking for you when a message came through his phone. It was from you! He opened it expecting any number of excuses and apologies but instead it was just a picture. You were at some bar and were making a very stupid face at the camera. That wasn’t what had caught his attention though. It was the arm that was wrapped around you oh so casually. The pig it was attached to was leering at you in the top left corner of the shot.

Rafayel felt many emotions shoot through him in the span of five seconds of seeing your message. Relief. Confusion. Dejection. Anger. Then pure hot resentment.

You had broken your promise to him to go out to a bar with this scumbag that touched you so casually? No. This would not stand. He was going to go get you. He had to study the picture a bit more to figure out which bar you were at. Thankfully there was a cocktail napkin printed with the bar name on it within the shot.

He sped over as fast as he could and burst into the bar. His gaze swept over the bustling room until he saw a large group sitting near the back. You were among them and that pig from the picture was right next to you, his hand laced with yours and hunger in his eyes. He waited to see you pull away, to tell him to fuck off but you didn’t. You leaned in closer, batting your eyelashes and smiling at him in that way that teasing smirk that drew Rafayel crazy. That was meant for him! Why were you flirting with someone else! Why!

He had charged forward as your faces drew closer. No. He would not see you kiss someone else! He would not suffer that indignity tonight as well!

He grabbed the back of our shirt and pulled you swiftly away from the man. The thundering of his heart was pounding in his ears. “You broke your promise.” he seethed.

You blinked and he could see your brain trying to catch up. “Raf--what are--why are you here? Let go of me!”

“Not a chance.” he grabbed you underneath the armpits and pulled you out of your chair. “You have had enough to drink. We are going home.”

“Hey!” the pig stood up. “Who do you think you are? You can’t just take her.”

“She’s my girlfriend and she’s wasted, so I think I am more than justified in getting her out of this dive.” Rafayel started to drag you away. “Come on.”

He dragged you out to the car despite your protests and shoved you into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt for you. Once you were in the car a lot of the fight went out of you. He shoved a water bottle at you and told you to drink as much as you could. When you didn’t oblige he stayed glaring at you until you had swallowed the whole thing. Then he pulled out another and told you to keep drinking. “I need you sober. So keep hydrating.”

By the time Rafayel had gotten back to his house you had drank another full bottle of water and the glassy sheen of drunkenness was ebbing away. The anger and pain his chest was still boiling but he kept his mouth clamped shut until you were inside.

For what felt like forever you stood in the foyer, looking everywhere but at him and not saying a word. When you dared to meet his gaze again he noticed you flinch as guilt shot through you. “Raf, I’m sorry. I had a really stressful day at work and I completely forgot about our chicken and movie plans. I swear I will make it up to you tomorrow--”

“Who the fuck was he?” Rafayel cut you off.

You paused your stammering and stared at him, brows knit in confusion. “What? Who?”

“That pig that was hanging off of you at the bar. Who is he?” he demanded.

“What does that have to do--”

“Answer the question!”

You snapped to attention, shock and indignation sharpening your features. “You do not talk to me like that! I know you’re pissed that I forgot our plans but you do not yell at me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Rafayel felt like laughing. Laugh like he was mad. “I want to know why you were flirting with someone else. Did you even realize that he was two seconds from kissing you?”

“Uh yeah? That was kinda the whole point of us flirting. Why are you getting so worked up about this?” you settled your hands on your hips. “Do you know what everyone is going to think now that you announced to all my co-workers that you are my boyfriend? No one is gonna want to get anywhere near me now. Thanks for that.”

“Is that what you want? To be with other people?”

“Wait. I’m confused. When did we ever establish that we were exclusive? I thought this was casual. Why are you being so possessive all of a sudden?” you asked.

“Because you are mine!” he shouted. He charged forward caging you against the wall. “This is not something casual to me and it shouldn’t be for you either! You are mine and mine alone I will be damned if I see someone else lay hands on what belongs to me.”

“Raf, where is all this coming from all of a sudden? Did you really think that we were in some serious arrangement?”

“You promised.” he repeated, angry tears threatening to spill.

“I know. I know. I promised to come over but I told you that I forgot--”

“No. You promised. You always promise. You keep making promises to me and you keep on breaking them! For eight hundred years you’ve been breaking your promises and I am tired of it! No more! You do not get to break my heart any more!” he seized you by the arms, staring into your eyes, willing something to unlock in your mind.

“Why do you never remember?” he said, his voice quieting. “Why do you keep breaking your promises?”

“What are you talking about? Eight hundred years? I don’t know what it is you are upset about. Did the coral finally get to your head now too?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Rafayel couldn’t take this anymore. He slammed his lips to yours, forcing your lips apart and pushing his tongue into your mouth. He did not yield until your tense body melted into his arms and you started to kiss him back.

He pulled back, breathing heavily. “Eight hundred years.” he muttered. “I know you don’t remember but I am going to make you. I am going to remind you in one way or another that you have always been mine. That you will only ever be mine. If I cannot make your mind remember then I will emblazon it on your body, etch my name into your bones so you never forget again.”

“Rafayel, why--”

“Yes or no?” he said, desperate to claim you but refused to move without your consent. “That’s all I need.”

“Are you going to talk to me about what the fuck is going on in that head of yours?” you snapped, impatience stoking you back into a rage.

Yes. Be angry. Be vengeful. But be mine.

“After.” his hands moved to your hips, pressing your body against his. “Now yes or no?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

His lips were back on yours, pouring all the frustration and desire he had into it. Mine. He thought. Only mine.

You started to slump as your knees buckled and he pulled back, keeping his arms locked around you as you made your way deeper into the studio. There was a fire roiling through his blood and it screamed at him to make you his. He didn’t have the patience to take you to the bedroom and instead tossed you onto the couch when it came into view.

He hovered above you and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to look at him. Your lips were parted and panting slightly, eyes wide with rage and lust and defiance. By the tides he loved it. He loved everything about you. If only you would say the same of him.

He kissed you again until you were breathless. There was still a taste of alcohol on your tongue. It tasted like rum and oranges, the sear and tang of summer overwhelming his senses with every swipe of your tongue against his. He wanted to get drunk off the taste. Wanted nothing else but reminders of you. Your taste, your scent, your warmth.

He left your swollen lips to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking dark bruises onto the sensitive flesh. A gasp left your mouth as his teeth sunk down above your pulse. You had always been so adamant about not leaving marks where other people could see them. Well no more. Everyone would know you were spoken for. No one would be able to question who you belonged to ever again. You included.

His free hand fumbled for the buttons of your shirt before impatience took over and he ripped it open instead. Buttons popped from their seams and flew off in different directions as your body was finally exposed to him.

“Hey! This is a work shirt!” you huffed, picking at one of the buttons that still held onto the shirt by a stretched thread.

“I’ll buy you another.” he slid the ruined shirt off and continued the descent of his mouth down your chest. “If you don’t want the rest of your clothes to meet the same fate, I’d advise in taking them off quickly.”

“Raf--”

“You have ten seconds. Be quick.” he stood up and started counting down.

It took you a moment to catch on that he was not indeed joking and to spare your clothes from decimation you quickly untied and tugged off your boots and were trying your best to shimmy out of your pants. Rafayel also began to shrug out of clothes, not as panicked as you were as he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt off over his head. By the time he got to zero you had just managed to kick your pants off and were reaching for the clasp of your bra.

“Too slow.” he pinned you back against the couch his knee slotting in the spaced between your legs, pressing close to your clothed cunt. You tried to stifle it but he heard the low whine of arousal that hummed in your throat. He pressed knee closer, letting you grind on it. He could feel wet you were getting. The evidence of your arousal soaking through your panties and wetting his pants.

He reached around behind your back and undid the clasp that held your bra in place and tore it off. You were lost in your own little world, grinding against his leg like an animal in heat. Your sweet moans filled the air as his hands cupped your breasts an tweaked your nipples into hard peaks. So sweet. So beautiful. And all of it his. At least, it should have been. The idea that someone out there possibly had seen this version of you, had driven you into this state made his blood boil. Who else had you been with when you weren’t with him? Had you ever left him and gone off to be with someone else? Did you moan for them like you did for him? Did you speak such filthy and beautiful words in their ears like you did with him? How many others had been tasting your lips after him?

“How long?” he asked, eyes trained on your face.

Your eyes which had been closed in ecstasy cracked open again. “What?” you breathed out.

“How long have you been flirting with others?” he said and your eyes widened. “Answer me.”

“I thought you said we were going to talk about this after.” you said. “Why--ah!” he gave a sharp squeeze to your breast.

“Answer the question.”

“I--I don’t know.” your hips kept moving, kept pushing yourself closer to the sweet release your body craved. You were getting close, he could tell.

“Yes you do. Now answer. Have you been flirting with others the entire time we’ve been together?”

“Raf--”

He pulled back, leaving you cold and panting against the couch, your precious orgasm right out of reach. “Answer or this ends now.”

“Yes.” you answered, your voice quiet. “I guess you could say it was happening the entire time, even before we met.”

Icy dread so cold it felt like burning coursed through him. He pushed you down so you were sprawled across the cushions of the couch. His hand pushed against the soaked materials of your panties, teasing your clit through the cotton.

“And how many touched you like this, hm?” he rubbed your clit harder. “How many of them did you fuck?”

“None of them. I promise. I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” That was a small relief. Your body had remained his, but what of your heart?

He pushed the material aside and plunged two fingers into your weeping hole. “And why not?” he continued, stretching your walls and curling his fingers in the way he knew drove you mad with want. “You had no problem flirting with them. Letting them touch you, letting them kiss you. Why not give your body over completely? Is that where your conscience kicked in? Remembered you already had someone when things got that far, did you?”

“Didn’t--didn’t--” you were struggling to form words, “Didn’t like them that much.”

“So if you liked them more you’d let them touch you like this?” his thumb pressed against your swollen clit, adding to the sensations you were already feeling. “You’d let them put their fingers in you, touch your most sensitive spots, let them taste how sweet your arousal is? All it would take is a few more sweet words and you’d let them fuck you. Drive their dick into you like they own it, own you. Is that what you’re saying.”

“No. No--fuck! Raf, I never wanted to fuck any of them.” your words kept wavering as he kept you dancing just out of reach of release. “I promise.”

There was that word again. Promise.

“Your promises mean nothing anymore. You’ve proven that.” his pace got faster and your legs squirmed and kicked as your orgasm raced forward with frightening speed. “Why should I believe you this time?”

It was as if his words had ignited something hot in you The wanton need and delirium of pleasure snapped and you surged up as your pussy clamped down hard on his fingers, arousal gushing from your hole as you came. You had grabbed him by the shoulders and forced your mouth against his, kissing him hungrily. You kept pushing, forcing him down against the couch, trapping him under you just as he had done.

You pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth as you withdrew. The momentary bliss was gone when he saw the rage written across your face. You sat straddled across him, chest heaving in the aftermath of your orgasm. You hastily unbuckled his belt and were shoving his pants further down his hips so his cock was free from their confines. “Now listen here and listen well you prima donna!” you growled, teasing the wet tip of his cock in your hand. “You are going to believe me when I say this: I never wanted to fuck any of the people I flirted with. That’s all it ever was, flirting. If you wanted us to be something more serious you should have fucking said so sooner!”

His nostrils flared as you worked over the hard flesh of his erection. He tried to grab you but you smacked his hands away. “You do not get to be angry at me for treating what we have as something casual cause that is all you have ever treated it as too.”

“It was never casual for me!” he snapped back. You gave a hard squeeze and his head fell back. “Fuck--that’s not fair.”

“Neither were your methods.” you reminded him. “Now, you said you wanted to etch your name onto my bones so I never forgot you. Well that is a two way street, you know. If you want to sear yourself into my memory then I get to do the same to you.”

“Trust me,” he said, eyes dark with desire, “You already are.”

You sat back, angling yourself as you lowered yourself onto him. You watched his gaze slide from your face down to where you were connected, watching his cock sink in and out of you. You rode him hard, pulling up till only the tip remained inside before slamming back down on him again. He steadied you by holding your thighs, pushing them wider when he wanted you to sink down deeper on him.

It didn’t matter how many times you had sex. Every time he had you like this it felt like he was in some amazing dream he did not want to wake up from. But you were no dream. You were real. So breathtakingly and heartbreakingly real. And you were with him, wanting him, riding him, eyes begging him and only him for pleasure and release no one else could come close to giving you.

His hips moved to thrust up into you, needing more. Needing to mark you in a way that you never forgot in this life or the next or the one another eight hundred years from now.

Your thrusts got shallower and faster as he hit some wonderful spot in your pussy that had you seeing stars. Your legs were shaking and started to lose their rhythm. Your body collapsed forward, laying on top of him. He kept hold of your ass, forcing your hips to keep moving as you moaned and panted, nails scratching down his chest.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! Raf! Raf!” you started squirming again, release so close you could taste it. At least, that’s what he figured with your tongue hanging out of your mouth. He craned his neck to taste it, pull your mouth onto his and made you swallow his own moans.

Your pussy was so hot and wet and it was squeezing the life out of him. He never wanted to leave. He wanted to mount the pair of you on a pedestal in this embrace, immortalized in shining marble. Scholars and lovers would come from all over the galaxy to study the love and lust your coupling represented. Women would desire to be you and men would envy him for having claimed something so perfect as his own. But none would know just how good you were. How your lips felt pressed against their own, what your arousal tasted like, or what little things turned you into a screaming moaning mess. This was all his to know and no one else.

“Let go.” he murmured against your lips, “I know you want to come. Go ahead, let go and come for me. Oh fuck please! Be a good girl and come all over me. Please!” he stressed. He felt himself about to blow but he’d be damned if he left you behind.

“Raf! Raf! Fuck Raf! Want to! Want to come!” Tears were leaking out of your eyes. “Want to be yours. Want to--want to--fuck! Make me! Make me yours!”

“Yes. Be mine! Be mine! Be only mine!” He crushed your mouth back against his. He wedged one hand between you and found your swollen and neglected clit, rubbing it gracelessly to give you that final little push you needed.

“Ah!” your voice pitched an octave.

“Keep your eyes open.” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Look at me when you come. Look at me!”

You forced your eyes open despite the pleasure wracking your body telling you to close them. “Raf…ay…el…” his name was but a struggled whisper before your cunt clamped down around him and the tremors of your body seized as you were thrown into your orgasm.

Rafayel followed shortly behind, his eyes never leaving yours as the tides of pleasure washed in and out and away. The shaking of your body stilled and you stayed flush against him, chests heaving and hearts hammering as the adrenaline wore off.

After several long minutes of silence you spoke again in a quiet voice, devoid of any malice. “Rafayel?”

He almost wished you hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to ruin this peaceful moment. But you probably had questions. “What is it?”

“You said it was never casual for you.” you traced patterns across his chest. “What did you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” he tilted your chin up to look at him. “After eight hundred years of waiting I finally have you back and you think I was going to want anything less than all of you?”

“Again with this eight hundred years thing.” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I get that you’re older than you look but I am not eight hundred years old, Rafayel. If you are projecting some lost love onto me--”

“It’s not projection. It is you. It has only ever been and only ever will be you.” he could see the war in your eyes, trying to reconcile what he was saying.

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. “We promised. I know you don’t remember but I do. We made a vow and you cannot break it. We are bonded, always have been, always will be.”

“Do…” you took a shaky breath, “Do you love me?”

“It is a tragedy you even have to ask.” he cupped your cheek. “But yes, I do. And I will do anything to make sure you stay mine.”

“Well,” you cleared your throat, snuggling against him further. “I think you definitely staked your claim. But even if I am this same person from eight hundred years ago, what makes you think me and her are in any way the same? Do you want me to be more like her or something? Just how far is this going to go?”

“I never want you to be anything less than who you are. You don’t have to be her because there is no her to be. I just want you in whatever way you come.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”

“Okay.” you smiled. “And I promise, really actually promise, that I will not flirt with anyone that is not you.”

“Because you love me?” he teased with a dopey smile.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. Because I love you.”

-----------

A/N: Hi, so this was my first foray into fanfic for this particular fandom. As it is I'm still fairly new so a lot of my characterization is based off of limited knowledge and vibes. That being said I hope you liked it and if you have other prompts for me whether they be angsty, spicy, or fluffy I'd be glad to have a crack at them. Love ya!

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Heyy!! first of all your writing is SO GOOD i have come across an amazing writer such as yourself in a long long time. I was wondering if you could write something for remus lupin with the promt 44 in the list? probably like co-workers to lovers kind of a thing. i love him sm i wish he were real ( not that i'd have a chance but still ). THANK YOU SM <33 LOTS OF LOVE

STOP IT, you're making me blush!! You’re so sweet, and I appreciate you taking the time to tell me that—you’ve officially made my day!!

ivy's 1k celebration ❄️ navigation ❄️ prompt list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ REMUS LUPIN #44: "Tell me three reasons why I should put up with you." "Well, for starters, I'm cute."

You leaned against the staffroom door, your eyes locked on the brooding figure hunched over a pile of essays. The quill in Remus Lupin’s hand moved furiously, his brows furrowed in concentration. Honestly, he looked a bit like a kicked puppy—a really cute, endearingly grumpy puppy.

"Oi, Lupin." You sauntered in, plopping into the chair opposite him. "You look like you’re grading the downfall of humanity, not essays."

Without looking up, he muttered, "If you'd read this one, you’d think the same."

You laughed, the sound bright in the dull, parchment-scented room. "Careful, Professor Lupin, your grumpiness is showing."

Remus sighed, finally meeting your gaze, his tired eyes tinged with exasperation. "Some of us take our work seriously."

"And some of us," you shot back with a smirk, "know how to have fun while doing it. You should try it sometime—fun, I mean. It’s delightful."

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he caught himself. "Why are you here, anyway? I thought you were done for the day."

"I was," you said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "but I heard you were holed up here, looking like a medieval monk. Thought I’d check on you."

"How thoughtful," he deadpanned, though the faintest blush dusted his cheeks.

You grinned, knowing you were getting to him. "You’re welcome. Now, I demand your attention for at least five minutes."

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head and raising a brow.

"Because I’m adorable," you quipped, twirling a strand of hair.

"Debatable," he shot back, though his cheeks flushed pinker.

"Rude," you gasped, clutching your chest like he'd just insulted your honor. "You wound me, Lupin."

His lips curved into the tiniest smile, and you knew you had him.

"Fine," he said, sitting back and crossing his arms. "You want my attention? Tell me three reasons why I should put up with you."

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand, your smirk growing. "Well, for starters, I’m cute."

"Debatable," he repeated, but his voice was softer, teasing.

"And second," you continued, ignoring him, "I make your dull, miserable days brighter with my sparkling wit and charm."

His eyes rolled, but you caught the corner of his mouth twitching.

"And third," you finished with a dramatic sigh, "you secretly like me and would miss me terribly if I stopped bothering you."

For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes studying you like you were one of his more perplexing students. You felt your pulse quicken, the usual banter hanging in the air like a question left unanswered.

Then he smiled—small and shy, but genuine—and looked down at the essays in front of him.

"You’re insufferable," he said, but there was no heat behind it.

"You’re blushing, Lupin," you teased, your grin widening.

"I’m not," he mumbled, his ears now undeniably red.

"Oh, you are. I win."

"Win what?" he asked, glancing up at you again.

"Whatever this is," you said, motioning between the two of you.

"Well," he said softly, "if this is winning, I think I’m alright with losing."

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in. Was Remus Lupin—grumpy, shy, always-buried-in-books Remus Lupin—flirting with you?

"Careful, Lupin," you said, leaning back in your chair, though your voice was softer now. "You keep talking like that, and I might start to think you like me."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for the first time, he didn’t deny it.

[nickrocketrodriguez]

Hello, Nick! Can you share with us some of your favorite scenes into the writing process of Jurassic World: Chaos Theory? Or even some scenes that didn't end up on the show but you liked it?

Gosh, we wrote these so long ago it's so hard to come up with specifics. For the episodes I wrote, I loved writing the scenes in "Halfway Home" between Daniel and Kenji. I have a relationship in my own life that mirrors (to a certain extent) theirs, so to be able to put all of myself into that episode -- my first as a staff writer on a TV series -- was very special for me. It really allowed me to completely open myself up to working with other writers to intimately. I also get a giggle out of the part where Kenji doesn't have the words to describe Daniel's ultimatum, so he just grunts -- I didn't know if it would make anyone else laugh, but it seemed to, so it stayed! That was pretty fun.

"The Drop" was a bit tougher for me, as it was a pretty pivotal moment between Darius and Kenji. In their scene where they struggle over possession of Brooklynn's phone, I really wanted Darius to rear back to take a swing at Kenji, but for some reason, in a show where people are eaten by dinosaurs, throwing punches (or even implying it) was a no-go, but what ended up in there was still really fun and to the spirit of what I was trying to do.

"Batten Down the Hatches" was sooooo much fun to write as a horror and action fan -- I feel like the team really took what I wrote and ran with it in the best possible way! Seeing that one at SDCC with a group of like 800 fans was something I will never forget. People laughed, gasped, shouted at the screen -- it was just such a cool moment for me.

But getting to introduce Soyona Santos was also such a special thing for me. As I've said in the past, getting to write for Dichen Lachman was such a fanboy moment for me, I'm so glad I got to reintroduce her to the world and help usher in a more three dimensional version of the character than there was time for in Dominion. I love the cat-and-mouse vibe of their conversation. There's also the bit that I'm not sure many picked up on where Santos is the one who uses the term, "limb difference" for the first time in the series. Our consultants had taught me that phrase, and I thought it was an interesting choice for Santos to introduce it to Brooklynn. The thinking was somewhere along the lines of, in her quest to get deeper into the trafficking of dinos, she probably didn't have a ton of time to look into how she was really feeling about losing her arm, let alone find anyone else who'd introduce that phrase to her. So when Santos uses it, there's a split second where Brooklynn kinda connects with it. I think it shows that Santos isn't just a mustache-twirly type of villain. She's intelligent, she's hip to how language has evolved, and she might even be a good person in another life. There was a moment where it was called into question whether or not Santos would use the phrase, so I'm especially glad we got to keep it in there.

And don't even get me started on the episodes my amazing colleagues wrote for the rest of the series. They all did such an incredible job, I don't even have enough words to express how awesome their episodes turned out, not to mention how awesome all of the rest of the crew did in bringing the show to life!!

[angelicpoison12]

HIII SNOWFLAKE i’ve never requested anything b4 but your writing is just too good shdjsbs😵‍💫. anyway my request is stepdad!adam x fem!reader. he hears his name from her room and so obviously he goes to check up on reader….and is pleasantly surprised to see that GASP!! his sweet little stepdaughter touches herself to the thought of him??? adam is willing to help her out but the guilt he feels is sickening. ILY YOUR WRITING!!!

JDHCJJDJDN I LOVE YOU COSMII MUAH!! since i unfortunately don’t write for specifically fem!reader, i’ll be making the reader gn BUT they’ll be an AFAB :P

i had so much deranged fun writing this btw <33 KEEP YOUR REQUESTS COMING PRETTY PLEASE!! :3

CW: Dead Dove Content, Incest

don’t like, don’t interact! thank you! ❤︎︎

wordcount: 2.4k (i’m insane.)

reader is referred to as; kiddo, kid, honey, babydoll, love bug <3

NSFW, 18+ ★

why did men have to be so fucking stupid?

okay, to be fair, it wasn’t men specifically, it was boys. boys on your college campus.

they didn’t see your worth.

your mother always encouraged you, and gently told you how lucky you were for your looks. but it didn’t really help your self-esteem when your bio dad left. even with your mom assuring you it wasn’t your fault.. a small part of you felt guilty, even after it had been near a decade.

Adam started as a family friend.

he’d come to all of your birthday parties, family gatherings, and more. if only you had known what a scumbag he was..

the real reason why your dad left was because Adam’s dick was just too. damn. good.

he had walked in, and she was getting railed from behind, right on the kitchen table, where your poor dad had spent countless hours doing your math homework with you.

“suck it, cuck!”

Adam laughed, his sharp canines glinting, landing a powerful hand on your mother’s behind.

mother like her own kiddo, eh?

she remarried to Adam only six months after his leaving. you didn’t mind as time passed. you liked Adam; you enjoyed his company, and he often gave you whatever you wanted since he was loaded with money. he had paid your college tuition in full, aiding you to not have any student debt.

Adam had watched you grow ever since you were just nine. but ten years can make someone develop quite a bit.

he had remembered your first period, and that was when he had first gotten the sick twisting in his gut. what the fuck? when Pinocchio was starting to appear, the sickness turned to guilt. how the fuck could he see his little love bug in such a light?

the guilt slowly became carnal.

if there was a field of strawberries, with a ten foot tall fence.. he’d climb it if he was hungry enough.

one night, Adam came to your room, wanting to talk to you. but he heard the faintest sound of ruffling..

it sounded like your bed.

Adam’s first thoughts went to there being a boy in your bed. his fists clenched at his sides reflexively, and he could feel his jaw clenching. swallowing, Adam decided to put his ear to the door. fuck, he felt like such a pervert, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, right?? i mean, he could be killing puppies, or-

“fuck, Adam..!”

wait..

did his sweet little love bug just call out his name?

Adam had to stabilize himself, a hand on the door, taking deep breaths, trying to make sure he was in reality and not some cruel dream.

“Adam, daddy.. please,”

he heard your breathy tone, and a soft, faint buzzing coming from your room. Adam bit his lip, a hand sneaking down to gently palm at his growing bulge. he had to stifle a groan through the flesh of his lips, nearly drawing blood. fuuuuckkk..

your noises, the activity you were doing.. you were the most prized, yet most forbidden fruit to ever exist. and boy did he want to sink his teeth into it, feel the juices drip down his chin, as if it were a summer’s peach. he knew you were still a virgin. anytime you would get a date, Adam would sabotage, your date somehow falling ill, or (literally) falling. sometimes it would get so bad to the point where Adam would scare you from going out with other boys.

he had been plotting. he was greedy. Adam was a selfish, sick, twisted man.. but who wouldn’t want their little beloved baby to themselves? isn’t it what every dad wants? to be connected with their kiddo in every way possible?

Adam turned away, fearful, and not wanting to startle you. he’d take care of himself.. you were just exploring. he’d help you out some other time, maybe when the guilt didn’t make him want to throw up, or when he knew that you weren’t a scsry resemblance of your blessed mother.

the world was cruel. the devil would somehow catch up to you, and for Adam, it was making him fall in love with his wife’s flesh and blood.

the next morning, Adam made you some childhood pancakes.

“gee, i haven’t had these in forever,”

you said, happily digging into the pancakes with chocolate chips in them.

“only the best for my beloved love bug.”

Adam said, warmly patting your head and kissing your forehead.

after eating, you grabbed your bag. Adam stopped drinking his coffee and set his book down, glasses against his nose.

“where you headed, lovebug?”

“oh, this guy invited me to go bowling.”

Adam checked his watch.

“.. at 9 o’clock in the morning?”

he asked, quirking a brow in suspicion.

“well, yeah. they open soon, and we wanna get there early since it’s a Sunday.”

oh! of course Adam was having fucked thoughts about his kid on the holiest day of the week!!

“oh, uh.. yeah, of course,”

Adam grunted, trying to hide his sheepish grin.

“y’know, this ol’ man gets lonely, with you being gone so much.”

Adam said, scratching his stubble. it made you weaken, your smile widening as you came over to him. just like when you were a kid, you climbed into his lap, sitting there at the kitchen table.

“daddy, i’ll never be too old to let you go. i swear on it. it’s just a date! i’ll be okay, i promise.”

you said.

‘but you won’t be okay.. you need me.’

Adam’s thoughts were getting clouded with hunger again. but he hid it well, smiling as he kissed your cheek. once, then twice, then the third time on your forehead, making you giggle and squeal.

“okay, kiddo.. just be careful.”

he hummed, golden eyes full of adoration.

oh, he was fucked. your date.

“my parents won’t be home for hours,”

your date panted, pulling his shirt over his head.

“sweet..”

you said, already a little apprehensive.

he noticed this. his name was Mike, you remembered.

“hey, what’s the matter? we doing this or what?”

Mike asked, looking you up and down.

clearly, when Mike had taken you bowling, the real bowling had only lasted thirty minutes..

but who can say no to a free hookup?

snapping out of your daze, you nodded quickly.

“yeah! just.. let’s do it,”

you muttered. Mike climbed on top of you, and you ran your hands through his black locks, kissing him. it felt so fake. it was as if Mike was made of artificial sweeteners with a dash of Steevia.

“ow-! fucker, clip your nails!”

your barked when Mike tried to finger you bone dry.

“well it’s not my fault! you’re not even wet!”

he argued back.

“because you went straight to my pants! you’ve gotta warm up,”

you said, pouring. Mike scoffed and threw back on his shirt.

“thanks, bitch. my boner’s completely gone..”

oh, so now it was your fault! great!

“whatever. see ya, Mike,”

you said, grabbing your jacket and zipping your pants back up, leaving out the door.

Adam’s car was already outside of Mike’s apartment.

you didn’t even question why or how Adam was there. the second you got in the car, you began to sob. Adam held you, gently cooing and shushing you, attempting to soothe you.

“shh.. what happened, lovebug? talk to me,”

you couldn’t even stammer out the words. all you could do was shake your head, tears of frustration and shame in your eyes.

“i wanna go home..”

you blubbered, feeling Adam’s thumbs tenderly brush away your tears. he pressed soft kisses all over your face, letting his lips linger when they were just a few centimeter from your plush lips.

“of course. anything for you, kiddo.”

Adam had the radio on, and you were curled up in the passenger seat. you were pissed. primarily at Mike, but also your own foolishness. why couldn’t you get aroused with Mike? it was making you feel guilty and gross.

“when we get home, you tell me what you want for dinner, okay? your mom is going to be home late, so we can have whatever you want.”

Adam said, a hand gently going to your knee.

you looked at him. just the touch of Adam, his large hand nearly taking up half of your thigh.. fuck.

then your heart began to race, gears twitching and flicking in your brain. this was your step dad! you weren’t supposed to think of him like this? he had taken care of both you and your mother for the last good portion of your life, and the one way your mind wanted to repay him was through grotesque deeds?

“babydoll? you in there?”

Adam asked, gaining your attention once more.

your eyes blinked a few times, the dissociation ending.

“i asked whataya want for dinner, but your mind seems somewhere else.”

he chuckled, smirking. you blushed and began to stammer, but Adam cut you off, his grip on your thigh tightening.

“that boy.. he didn’t hurt you none, did he?”

Adam asked, nearly growling.

“because i swear to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, if that son of a bitch did anything to you-“

“no! he didn’t do anything, dad!”

you gasped out, squirming. his nails were digging into your pants, almost tearing the fabric.

you stayed in bed for the first hour of being home, curled up and crying. you seriously thought it was your fault, not the fact that Mike was an asshole.

needing relief, you reached into your bedside drawer.

it was a simple magic wand vibrator. not too big or bulky; but bright pink with rhinestones on the handle, making it pretty easy to figure out what it was to any adult eye.

before you could turn it on Adam was knocking on your door.

“hey lovebug, i’m making dinner now, okay?”

“uh-okay, thanks, dad-!”

you squeaked, quickly hiding the vibrator under your bedsheets, making them rustle a little.

“you okay in there, kiddo? you’ve been in there ever since we got home..”

Adam ended up letting himself in. the first thing he did was open your curtains, muttering about how you needed some light, and the immediate shine made your eyes burn.

“AH! dad, what the fuck-?!”

you shrieked, throwing the blankets off, rushing up to close the curtains.

both of your guys’ eyes lingered what was now exposed.

“oh god-dad, it’s not.. i just.. fuck,”

you said, sighing, head hanging low. there was no point in defending yourself.

wordlessly, Adam went to your bed. he grabbed the wand by the handle and turned it on, looking dead at you. his eyes were unreadable, and that terrified you.

“is this what you were using last night?”

he asked bluntly. the question made you almost blink like a frog, shocked.

“i-what?”

“i said,”

Adam pressed the wand against your crotch, flicking it on, making you gasp sharply. any sane person would’ve pulled away, maybe slapped him, called him a pervert and ran away.

but you stayed still. in fact, you clung to Adam like a lifeline, trembling, jaw slack in pleasure.

“well? answer me.”

Adam growled, a hand coming to grasp your chin, roughly tugging your face up to meet his, your noses touching.

“yes,”

you managed to whisper, squirming, the buzzing of the wand filling the room.

“you’re fucking filthy, y’know that? i heard you last night. calling out my name.. you weren’t even trying to hide your lust,”

Adam growled, pressing the wand deeper into your sweatpants, watching your thighs tremble.

he had climbed the wall, sank his teeth into the flesh of the peach, and now his belly was aching. he was paying for it. an exchange of five minutes of pleasure for years to come of guilt.

you continued clinging to him, head in his chest, moaning and worming around. somehow, the wand felt more overwhelming when Adam was holding it. one of his hands were on your hip, holding you in place so that you couldn’t run away, the other in your hair.

“shhh, that’s it, babydoll.. i’m gonna give you what you need,”

he chuckled, dark and grinning like a maniac.

your hooded eyes looked up at him, hazy. you came with a silent cry, fists balled up in his faded shirt, grinding your hips into the wand at a merciless pace.

“thatsss itttt, yeah! good job, kiddo, that’s it, cum for daddy,”

you never thought hearing Adam call himself ‘daddy’ would make you gush, but it did, and you felt your belly curling in disgust at it.

when Adam turned off your vibrator and set it down, he continued to hold you, eventually laying you back down in bed.

“dad..”

you whispered. he looked at you, eyes soft. with tears in yours, you whimpered,

“what we just did.. was.. oh god..”

you choked, feeling yourself start to cry.

“baby, no, shh, none of that,”

Adam said, gently kissing your forehead, then placing a kiss on your lips.

it caught you off guard, but you reciprocated happily. almost.. eagerly.

your tongues were soft as they tangled. when Adam pulled away, he nuzzled your nose in an Eskimo Kiss.

“Adam and Eve were the first humans on Earth, right?”

you nodded, a little confused on where he was going with this.

“they had kids, right?”

“y.. yeah..? dad, why are you telling me this-?”

“let me finish, and you’ll know why.”

Adam said.

“so, they were the first people, right? and they had kids. well, if there was no one else on Earth to populate with..”

Adam made a motion. your eyes widened. i mean, it was kind of-no, it was really fucked up, the fact that he was trying to justify what had just happened. then again, the more you thought about it… was he not right?

all you knew was that you didn’t want this to be the last time. hell no. even if this was taboo, and you’d have to cut off ever seeking a boyfriend, that didn’t matter. all that mattered was Adam.

all you needed was your daddy to take care of you. right?

my sweet snowflake buddies!

@6esiree, @cosmiiwrites, @ithopi0s, @frxstwalker, @activesplooger

[skeletboi]

Super short update because my life is a mess.

But here is part 24 of the Intridimensional Au!

First /// Previous /// Next

__________________________________________

“Impressive as ever.” Ford said as he looked at the robot arm on the work bench.

“Thanks, Stanford.” Fiddleford replied quietly.

Ford watched Fiddleford place his good hand over the arm then glanced up at Fiddleford's face and frowned.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Lots a’ things are, I reckon.” Fiddleford said with a humorless huff of laughter. “Ya know when I went back home fer Christmas and fergot ta get Emma-May a present?”

“I recall, yes.” Ford responded, his frown deepening.

“She was already purdy darn mad at me before that. I wore baggy sweaters ta try and hide the metal cast on my arm so she wouldn't go worryin’ ‘bout it, but Tate ain't dumb and heard the hum of the components. He asked me about it, ‘cuz he's at that age where they ask a million questions, and I told him it was a metal cast. ‘Course he's an imaginative kid so he immediately started calling it a robit arm. He ran ta Emma-May ta tell her, and I thought she was ‘bout to murder me on the spot.” Fiddleford paused and picked up the arm. “He'd love this, but Emma-May would hate it.”

“I love it, if that makes you feel any better.” Ford said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's back.

“It does.” Fiddleford said with another quiet laugh. “But I can't stop thinkin’ about that. Emma-May knew how I felt ‘bout you in college, and we got in a purdy big fight ‘bout it before I came ta Gravity Falls. I love Emma-May, but our parents both loved the idea of us bein’ together more than we did. I think maybe we were more like best friends than spouses, but I promised her I'd be back ‘cause, above all else, we jus’ wanted Tate ta have a normal childhood.” Fiddleford set the arm back down and choked on a laugh that sounded suspiciously more like a sob. “‘Spose I'll jus’ hafta live with the fact that he won't. I don’ know if he'll ‘member me at all.”

“Fidds…” Ford said softly, unsure of what else to say with his own guilt and regret tearing at his chest.

“If I knew it was gonna turn out this way I prolly woulda jus’ said screw it and kissed ya as soon as ya opened the door to yer damn creepy cabin in the woods.”

Ford cracked a smile at that, but Fiddleford still looked a thousand miles away as he stared down at the arm.

“You would have stopped me.” Ford said after a moment.

Fiddleford glanced over at him in question.

“You say you would have kissed me right then, but I know you, and, if you had known this was the outcome, you would have left.” Ford clarified.

“Maybe.” Fiddleford responded thoughtfully, “But maybe not. Maybe I’m too scared in every timeline.”

“Fuck that.” Stan said, coming up behind them and dropping the last box at their feet. “I saw your face when Ford mentioned fighting back against Bill. That wasn't fear. That was determination.”

Fiddleford smiled sadly over his shoulder at Stanley.

“I thought you'd grow out of being so cheesy.” Ford deadpanned.

“Nope!” Stan replied with a smile. “But if you two are done being nauseating, we have some boxes to go through. I found a box of brown meat! It says it expires in 1993, but who the fuck knows what year it is in this dimension. My plan is to eat it now, ask questions later!”

“I believe you meant ‘die of food poisoning later’.” Ford noted.

“Or die of starvation! Might as well eat mystery food and die the fun way!” Stan laughed.

“Dysentery don't sound fun.” Fiddleford replied.

“Whatever, nerds.” Stan said, motioning to the boxes. “Just grab what you want so we can get on with life. I found a shot gun, too. You're welcome.”

Fiddleford laughed but did as he was told and put aside his arm project to start rummaging through the boxes.

___________________________________________

Sorry non-Fiddauthor fans. I needed Fiddauthor.

I originally wasn't going to write this bit in, but I wanted to give some context to the guilt they're both still feeling and the relationship between Emma-May and Fidds. Emma-May is bi in this universe, but prefers woman. Is that a cop-out to make myself feel better about how much Fidds hurt her? Yes, yes it is. But I am doing it anyway because I do what I fucking want.

I have another art piece nearly done, so I'll probably post it tomorrow. For now, enjoy. Or whatever.

[serickswrites]

Here’s a request idea for you! Something I personally love.

Whumper wants to drain smallest/youngest teammate of their powers.

Everything else is up to you!! Have fun!🫡

Hello, friend, I can absolutely write this for you! This is a 7 part series (plotted, not entirely written just yet) and will posted under the title 'Fade In/Fade Out'.

Please enjoy!

Warnings: threat of death, threat of torture, demands

"Everyone meet in the briefing room," Team Leader shouted down the hall. Their tone was gruff and short. Whatever they wanted to discuss with the team, it had to be serious.

Smallest Teammate put down their book as they watched their other team members stop their activities and head to the briefing room at the center of Base. Though they were the newest to the team, Smallest Teammate felt the most at home with the team. Everyone had been so welcoming and supportive. It wasn't easy for them to fit in most places--too many people would either not trust them or try to use them. They had tried to conceal their power for so long, but it hadn't worked. Not too many people had the ability to manipulate probabilities. Not too many people with that ability went unnoticed.

But Team Leader had welcomed Smallest Teammate with open arms. They had told Smallest Teammate they would welcome anyone to their team so long as they wanted to help humanity. And so Team Leader's team was composed of individuals with various powers, but all worked together to better the world.

"Gang," Team Leader began as the twelve members sat at the conference table, "I have to discuss this matter with you all. Though I've made my decision, I think you should all be informed."

What was so serious that Team Leader made a decision, but wanted everyone to know? Smallest Teammate watched Team Leader wave a piece of paper with growing trepidation. What terrible thing was in store for them all?

"Whumper has issued a demand. I'm not going to answer it. But I think we need to come up with a plan to fight them."

"Well, I for one, am not ever going to indulge that lunatic!" Teammate One said as they leaned back in their chair.

"Nor I," Teammate Two said, nodding their agreement.

"I think we are all in agreement not to answer Whumper's demands. But I think you should all know so we can come up with a plan."

"Then just tell us, already," Teammate Four whined, "I was getting ready for a nice long nap."

Team Leader frowned at Teammate Four pointedly before speaking. "As I was saying, Whumper has issued a demand. They have demanded I turn over Smallest Teammate to them or else they will take their time killing each one of us, saving Smallest Teammate for last."

Smallest Teammate swallowed. Whumper wanted them. Them! What on earth did Whumper want them for? Their thoughts were drowned out as the table erupted into angry grumbles and shouts. The team shouted over each other about the best ways to launch an attack on Whumper, the best ways to protect Smallest Teammate, and the best ways to fortify Base. Smallest Teammate could not be more grateful for the fact that their team was ready to protect them.

But they could not help but be afraid. They were afraid for themself. They were afraid for the world. But most of all, they were afraid for their team.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@acer-whumpstuff @pepeniascat

[asirensrage]

Title: One More Step Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Izana x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC Word count: 2072 Warnings: Dark!fic. Violence. Abuse. Threats. Gaslighting. Suicide attempt. Suicidal thoughts. Mention of "being shared". Seriously gaslighting. Implied future infantilization. Not a happy ending. Unbeta’d. *warnings are not exhaustive* Summary: There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out. Including her. Prompt: "Even if you got rid of me, you'd miss me. Admit it, you'd miss me."

Notes: based off of the prompt found here by @seaside-writings. Takes place in the future where Izana is controlling Toman (with Manila!Mikey). This was a lot of fun to write and I've enjoyed the reactions I've gotten so far, which has mainly been shock and horror lol. I hope you enjoy it.

**HEED THE WARNINGS**

She’s straddling his chest, knife poised on the base of his throat as her knees keep his arms pinned. His wide violet eyes meet hers and what pisses her off the most is the complete lack of fear she sees in them. She feels like she’s been running a marathon, the end finally in reach if she can just take one more step. That’s all she needs. One more step. 

She doesn't know how it got to this point. 

She can look back, regret bringing a sharp clarity to actions that she was blinded to before it was too late. Before he held her by the throat, forced her to face everything that he was and that he offered and refused to let go. She had been bordered by his men, one way or another. Closed off from anything that could reach out to pull her back out of the open water where he lay waiting to devour. 

She can see every step that led her into his trap, even the ones that were taken in haste because she was forced from behind. The man under her held her softly, sweetly and kissed her deep enough that she could taste the blood on his tongue. Her revulsion made him laugh, made him all the more determined that she remain chained to his side. Every part of her was broken apart, piece after piece, and she has been trying to glue herself back into place. Back into the woman she was before she ever crossed paths with Izana. 

He stares at her patiently, not even trying to fight. As if he knows it’s inevitable. 

It is inevitable. 

There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out and women are the more deadly of the species. 

“I thought you were going to kill me,” he says lightly, eyes never leaving hers. His gaze strips her bare. It always has. He lured her with promises and idealizations of a home, with the threat of revenge against those who have wronged her. 

“I want to see the life leave your eyes myself,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper with her panting. 

“Even if you got rid of me, you’d miss me. Admit it. You’d miss me.” He stares as if waiting for the answer he knows she’ll give. Not anymore. She refuses. To admit to missing him means that she would miss the way he cradled her to him, the way he held her throat in his hand and threatened to kill her, to throw her to the wolves. To miss him would be to admit that she liked everything he had done for her, to her, and the way he’d allow select few access to her cunt while he fucked them. He was almost always the one fucking. Always the one in control. 

It would be admitting that the pieces she was putting herself back together with were in his image. Not hers. 

She presses the knife a little harder and he doesn’t even flinch. “Never.”

“Liar.” 

He moves. Her weight isn’t enough to stop him, despite her efforts. The knife goes flying as she’s forced onto her back, an inversion of seconds ago. Her feet kick out, arms scratching at his until he uses his hold against her neck to lift her head just enough to slam it back down onto the ground. It makes her dazed. Enough that she stops struggling for a moment as her senses realign. 

“Admit it.” He orders again. “Tell your king the truth.” 

“Not my ki–” her voice is cut off with the pressure of his hand tightening. His gaze hardens at the response. 

“Stop lying.” He slams her head down again, harder this time and her vision goes black for a second before the pain blossoms. It makes her stomach roll but if she throws up now, she’ll choke until he decides she deserves to breathe. If he decides. 

Tears build up in her eyes, a response to the pain. The pressure on her throat releases enough that she can gasp in the air she desperately needs. 

He strokes her cheek gently as she coughs, tears falling out of the corners of her eyes. “You make things so hard on yourself,” he says softly. As if he hadn’t just nearly killed her. He brushes hair out of her eyes. 

“Iz-Iza-” she coughs. His grip tightens again in warning. She closes her eyes, willing to face death for what she’s done. She should have been faster. Why did she hesitate? After everything he’s done, she would have been doing the world a favour. 

“Try again.”

“Si–” his grip tightens and she chokes for a second, coughing once she’s granted air again. “-y king,” she gasps more than says it. A feeble attempt to keep his violence at bay. She’s seen enough of it. Felt enough. 

His grip loosens, back to the softness he imitates. “How long must we play this game? How long until it finally sinks in that you and I are intertwined?” She knows what he’s not saying. She would never be separated from him. He had dug himself into her bones, leaving the remnants of the girl she was into the thing he’s formed. 

Until there’s nothing left, is what she wants to say but she can’t. The words lodge themselves in her throat. Tears slip down the sides of her face as she stares up at the man who calls himself a king. He’s beautiful, ethereal with the casual violence he carries. 

He stares at her a moment longer, the corner of his lips twitching before he nods, seemingly satisfied at her inability to argue. She wants to. She does. She just can’t seem to pull the words out of her chest, to breathe life into a promise that she’ll succeed next time. A promise she’s made repeatedly and never fulfilled. 

She feels…tired. Emotionally wrought and wrung out. There’s a slight ringing in her ears that she can almost ignore. Her gaze slips from his face, staring at the art piece on the wall that he bought her after catching her staring at it too long. He hung it in a place of honour, front and centre as if to remind her that no matter what they’ve done, what he’s done, he’s taken care of her. Isn’t that what’s important? 

His fingers tighten on her chin before he turns her so that her eyes meet his again. He kisses his teeth lightly, another admonishment at her choices. She watches his gaze drift over her face. “You need to stop hurting yourself,” he says almost gently. It sounds like he actually cares, as if she’s only fallen and he hasn’t tried her kill her. Quid pro quo.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he says in the same tone. “That you never learn, do you? No matter how many lessons I teach, you stay as stubborn as a child.” He leans back slightly, hips pressing closer against hers as he pulls her slightly closer so they remain connected. “Is that what you are? A child?” He stares as if waiting for a response she can barely think of giving. She tries to shake her head but the motion makes her stomach roll and it feels as if he’s finally knocked something loose in it. She probably needs a hospital. 

“Is that how I need to treat you?” 

“N-no,” she croaks out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she forces out. She has to apologize. There’s no choice. If she doesn’t, he won’t kill her, but he’ll force her into another role that she knows will be worse than being a woman at his side. She can only imagine the way his men's faces will light up in amusement if he tells them to treat her as a child. They like humiliation too much when it’s not theirs. 

“Your words are worthless to me,” he tells me. “But I can be merciful. As long as you held the knife at my throat, you could never take that final step, could you?” 

She swallows the lump growing in her throat. No. Something held her back and she hates every part of herself for it. 

“No,” he answers for her. “Like I said, you’d miss me. Miss this.” He yanks her closer, moving her ass to rest on his knees, to keep her hips pressed against his. A parody of a mating press. One she’s been forced into before even if it never took. They’re consistent, at least, in ensuring she’s protected from that. 

Her gaze drifts again. She doesn't mean it but she can’t stay focused. Her head hurts and her throat feels scrubbed raw from his hold. She blinks and it feels like it takes longer than ever before she’s forced back to look at Izana. Will he mourn her if she dies here? Will he regret everything he’s done to her or will he only regret that it wasn’t on his terms? That’s how she should go. While she still has the ability to. She should wait until she’s left alone again and throw herself away, a final act of defiance in refusal to give him the satisfaction of choosing her death. It should be a choice she gets to make. Unless she hesitates like she did with a knife at his throat. Always unable to make that last move. 

He bends forward to brush his lips against hers. It’s soft, nearly tender and a complete contrast to his behaviour. She could lose herself in it, in the illusion he offers every time. It’s always so tempting to. It somehow feels so much more poignant after the things he does. She wants to soothe him, to make him offer this softness more and more until she’s drowning in it. Even if he’s the one pulling her under. 

“Izana,” she breathes into his mouth. 

He hums, smiling slightly at the submission. “Such a pretty thing like this, aren’t you?” He brushes her hair back. “You always are.” 

“My...my head hurts,” she whimpers. 

“You need to be more careful,” he says. “Such a clumsy thing, aren’t you?” He sighs before getting up, rocking back on his heels and standing. “You need me, even if you’re not willing to say it aloud. We both know it.” He offers his hand to her. 

She stares at it for a long moment, trying to will her body to work the way it’s supposed to, the way he expects it to. She’s been buried in his expectations, slowly suffocating under their weight. Can you be buried and broken apart? She thinks so. She feels like she is. The thing that emerges from the rubble is nothing she recognizes but he looks at her in satisfaction that makes part of her preen. It makes her sick.

She doesn’t know where she gets the strength, the courage, to shove her foot into his knee instead of taking his hand. He’s broken her into pieces, reforming her into what he wants, but the core of it is still her. She is still the woman she once was, even if she’s not the same. 

He swears at her, a hiss filled with warning and anger. She scrambles to stand but the concussion he’s left on her makes it difficult. She’s moving too quickly. Her stomach rolls and she crashes into the couch before she catches herself. The balcony lies before her. A beacon of release. A choice she can make. 

She runs.

Her fingers brush the cool glass before an arm reaches around her shoulder. A hand grabs her throat, circling it with an ease of familiarity before she’s sent flying back. Away from the balcony. Away from her chance. Still too slow, even if she didn’t hesitate. 

She slides across the floor, crashing into the wall across from it. The impact is jarring, sight going blank as her head rings until she’s folding over to throw up on the hard floor. Something’s broken. She can feel it in her arm, but she can’t focus. Can’t breathe through the nausea and taste of bile.

Izana walks towards her. She doesn’t have to look to know he’s disappointed. She can feel his anger even if he doesn’t show it. Instead, she hears him sigh. She curls up tighter, apologies worthless even if she tried. 

“A child it is then.” 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

also: @scythegal and @m-ilkiee Network: @pixelcafe-network

I’m not tagging anyone else lol

[soupbowl18]

“𝒞𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒, 𝐼 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒪𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊…”

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚ ｡⋆ ♡ ༘˚

Sero Hanta X ChildhoodFriend!Reader

AFAB!Reader, SMAU BNHA/MHA, Quirkless AU

‎‧₊˚✧ Synopsis ✧˚₊‧

You haven't seen your long time crush best friend since you were ten. Both of you moved and you haven't seen each other since. You wondered if it was ever possible to see him again, until...ping!

Warnings! Mentions of weirdos on the internet

All Chapters

↤ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ↦

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

Ahh yes, you finally turn thirteen. Your mother thought it was finally time to own your own phone.

“Now y/n, this phone is not a toy obviously, so take good care of it” “-uh huh” you say, not even looking at your mother. You were too excited to listen to your mother now that you’re already setting up your phone. “And you can have social media and I trust you enough not to talk to weirdos on the internet. This is your phone and you deserve privacy so I’m not going to look through your phone. Although, I will have a tracker on your phone. I need to know where you are all times.” Even though your mother doesn’t like that you’re not looking at her, she knows that you’re listening. “It’s not like I sneak out mom” “Yeah but I don’t feel like texting you to see where you are” You both giggle. “Thanks mom, I’ll take care of this phone” you say as you give her the tightest hug.

The next day, you return to your middle school, secretly showing off your phone to your friends since your school has no phone policy.

“Have you gotten Captures yet” Asked your best friend Unasaka. “What’s that?” You asked curiously. “A social media app that you can chat with people and like their pictures” she said, eager to make you an account. The only social media platform you interacted with is YouTube and Roblox but you’ve never made an account to interact with their pictures or chat with them. “I’m not sure if I want to jump on that social media bandwagon, I’ve heard about those weird people on those platforms” you tried move on from the topic but your best friend keeps wanting to convince you. “You can always private your account. You can choose who can chat and like your post. Just look at mine, I only have my friends and family.” Pulling out her phone, she shows her followers. You see your friends and other recognized faces. It’s not a bad idea, but that doesn’t fully convince you. “I’ll think about it girl. If I do make an account, can you write down your username?” Unasaka quickly pulled a pen and paper from her book bag. She quickly wrote it down and handed it to you. You guys spoke a little more about the presents of social media since you’re a bit new to it. After, you guys head separately to your own homes.

You thought about it after dinner, maybe it’s good to keep up with your friends. You can see that they’re out having fun and you can chat with them. The thought of texting your friends was cool to you. You went up to your room and started downloading the app Captures.

Once you made your account, you put your phone down, waiting for your friend Unasaka to follow you back. You can’t wait to share your little life with the world and chat with all your friends. That’s what you think social media is. Posting and chatting but you were unaware the dark side of it. It was already eight-thirty pm, you had to go to bed soon. You do your little night routine, thinking of all the things you can do now that you have a phone.

Little did you know, there’s someone waiting on the other side.

.

.

.

A/n: NO ONE TELLS YOU HOW ITS KINDA HARD TO MAKE A FAKE PROFILE AND PHONE SCREEN. Anyways, we’re just getting started. Next few chapters is their how friendship continued during middle school and how readers feelings blossomed.

Tags list:

@phtmmsqrde

[tikosblogg]

I've been in an angsty mood lately so I need something with Noah being a jerk and a cheater instead of typical fluffy and sweet. Please rip my heart out lol.

Summary: request. Noah ripping your heart out 🥲

Warning: mentions of sex, cheating.

A/N: hope this is what you wanted, this hurt to write 😭😭😭

The day felt like it had slipped through my fingers, dragging along with it a curious weight that plucked at my heart. For three years, my life had been intertwined with Noah's; his warm presence had become the horizon I could always return to. We laughed, we fought, and we loved fiercely, or at least we used to. Lately, clouds had gathered in the sky of our relationship, casting shadows that I couldn't ignore.

"Are you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet," I asked him an hour earlier while we bickered half-heartedly over dinner. His fork stalled above his plate, and he offered a flicker of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I frowned. Something was off. The love we had always shared felt like it was fading. Gone were the days of impulsive kisses and the clothes that found themselves ripped off in a heat of the moment. Instead, we had settled into an unnerving routine.

"You know I’m just tired," Noah replied, shrugging it off, but the words land like dull thuds. He had always been my rock, yet I was slowly sinking, and he was miles above the surface. The last two weeks had been particularly devoid of intimacy, not that I was counting (though it certainly felt like I was). My thoughts spiraled as I tried to piece together what had changed.

When my friend Sarah suggested a girls' night, I was hesitant. Could a night away from the murky waters of my relationship reinvigorate me? Reluctantly, I decided it would do me good. Maybe it was time to step away and gain clarity.

I threw on a casual sundress, put on light makeup, and glanced in the mirror. Even with the flutter of doubt in my chest, I forced a smile. Maybe some time apart would do us all some good. I told Noah I was leaving, and to my surprise, he perked up, a brightness returning to his features that made me raise an eyebrow. “Have fun baby” he chimed, perhaps a little too eagerly.

As I made my way to Sarah's house, I tried to shake off the settling apprehension sinking into my stomach. The evening started off light and filled with chatter, laughter. But as the clock creeped toward ten, it became evident that Sarah had a much lower tolerance than I did; her laughter faded into giggles and then to incoherent mumblings as she slumped into a cacophony of drunken joy.

Deciding it was time to head home rather than wait for her to pass out completely, I gathered my belongings while providing her with promises of checking in on her later. My heart carried a heaviness as I walked back to my car, fingering the smooth metal of my phone nervously as I started the engine. If my evening had gone as planned, I would still be sharing stories and sneaking whispers at two a.m. Instead, I was headed into the uncertain quietness of my home.

The unfamiliar car parked awry in the driveway sent an immediate chill down my spine, twisting dread around my heart. My mind raced. A friend? Maybe? Surely Noah wouldn’t invite someone over without telling me. As I unlocked the door, an eerie silence invaded the house, wrecking my thoughts and heart alike.

“Hey, Noah?” I called out tentatively, my voice shaky. Silence remained, a waiting void, until I caught the faint sound of laughter wafting up the staircase. My heart dropped.

Every step up the stairs felt like walking into a surreal nightmare, the increasing volume of their voices echoing off the walls. When I pushed the door to our bedroom open, the sight that greeted me felt like the world collapsing around me.

There was Noah—my Noah, the man who promised to love me forever with a blonde woman straddling his bare hips. My breath hitched in my throat as I stood frozen, my heart racing in disbelief. "That’s it, baby, you’re so perfect,” I heard him say through clenched teeth. I swallowed hard, fighting the nausea rising in my throat.

And then something broke inside me. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, fueling my rage and sorrow, and I slapped the door wide open. Their bodies bolted apart, and Noah’s eyes widened in shock, horror mixing with the pale glow of the room. “I—I’m so sorry!” he stammered, desperately scrambling for words as he covered himself.

I stood there, a visceral anger spilling over my disbelief. “It meant nothing,” he pleaded. “Can you just let me explain?”

I couldn't hear him. My breath quickened, and it felt as if the weight of the world pressed down on my chest as I dove into the rawness of the situation. The reality of who I once thought he was shattered in front of me. With trembling hands, I turned to my closet, mind swirling as I yanked my suitcase from the shelf. “You don’t get to explain this,” I snapped, desperation clawing at me, pulling me into a dark pit where love once flourished. As I threw clothes into the bag, he stepped closer, determination etched on his face.

“Please, just listen to me,” he said, reaching out to pull my clothes from my arms, a frantic look taking over him. He was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, searching for words that would never suffice.

“Fuck you, Noah! There’s nothing you can say or do to fix this! You fucked up!” My voice trembled with anger as tears began to fall unbidden down my cheeks. I watched him shake his head, voice breaking. “Whatever… I was miserable half the time with you anyway,” he spat defiantly.

It was my turn to be shocked, but all I could manage was a laugh—bitter and hollow. As I zipped up my suitcase, I pulled his house key from my chain and tossed it onto the floor.

The blonde woman sat silently on the couch, a ghostly figure in my emotional battlefield. My gaze flickered to her before I gritted my teeth and looked back at Noah, anger rising in my chest like a storm. “You can fucking have him!” I sneered, my heart a vivid bruise that felt raw and exposed.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I turned on my heel, stretching my neck to glance back one last time at the man I thought I would grow old with. “I hope she was worth it,” I shot at him, each word a dagger that struck a nerve. My heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces, yet part of me reveled in the release. As I stepped out into the night, I found both fear and freedom coursing through me.

I was at a crossroads. The life I’d built had crumbled, but it left behind a strange sense of possibility—maybe this was the moment I would learn to spread my wings again and fly high above the wreckage he left behind.

[fridurwrites]

Ecto-Implosion 2024 Fic: Dying To Know You (Chapter 12: The Way Forward)

It’s no small miracle that Valerie and Danny actually get most of the day to clean themselves up and relax. Their only interruption is the Box Ghost (Val is unsurprised at this point to learn Danny actually calls it- him- Boxy), and they don’t even transform for that, much to the other ghost’s annoyance. The day is largely spent in the small movie theater tucked away inside the Manson residence, playing Mario Party and then Smash Brothers. Danny never brings up the way Valerie went berserk, and she never invites him to. She does fire a low-power ectoblast at his shoulder from a few seats down when he steals a star from her, though, mostly to stop his giggling. It’s nice. She can’t remember the last time she felt at ease like this, even with everything unknown and terrifying lurking in the shadows of her thoughts. Sam still glances at her sideways sometimes, and Jazz sneaks worried glances when she thinks Val isn’t looking, but her thoughts never feel as intense as they did when she was looking out for the Phantom in every dark corner.

And so we reach the end.

This was my first time writing in this fandom, and my first creative event in general. I had an absolute blast. I owe no small amount of that to my partner, who remains the incredible Fae. Without her art and ideas and support for my own ideas, I would've never gotten so much writing done for this story.

Considering what I originally had to work off of was their comic, which wound up in Chapter 6, they enabled me to really go nuts figuring out how things got to that point, what happened to Valerie, why Danny was nearby to swoop in and catch her, all of it. What wound up coming out of our wild brainstorming is nearly 40,000 words and an AU that I'm hardly feeling done with. Even just letting her in on who Phantom is changes Valerie's trajectory wildly, and putting her through the wringer like this even before Danielle exists means that a lot of things are dramatically changed. I wouldn't be satisfied without exploring some of that, and I can blame the inspiration on Fae and the event organizers and the momentum on the incredibly lovely and fun comments you guys have been leaving.

Seriously, thank you so much for your encouragement and appreciation throughout posting Dying To Know You! Go check out Fae's other works (and mine if you like Outer Wilds, I guess?), and keep an eye out for the continued adventures of our two beloved half-ghosts sometime soon! Stay hydrated, take your meds, eat something, you know the drill!

Until next time, take care of yourselves!

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[camellia-thea]

okay. just rambling here, but, i think armand took more than just the end of the interview away from daniel.

we got that little moment about that night, saying 'you asked me to' to louis. 'you asked me to take this from you, you could not live with it,' leading into, 'i look after you when you cannot look after yourself, i make those choices for you.'

we know that during the chase and devil's minion era, daniel was an addict, who was, by his own admission, slowly killing himself. he was also addicted to blood.

it's really not too far to make the jump, if devil's minion occurred, that armand made the choice to step in, in his own mind, for daniel's best interests. i know this isn't a unique jump to make, but; again with armand's "i look after him when he cannot look after himself" continual reiteration, i think it's a fair assumption.

he can also replace and blur memories, which makes the discussion of alice and paris -- why the dessert from that night? -- and how immediate and sincere his answer of "she wanted to say yes, but she didn't trust you. you hadn't given her a reason to." this could be the night he took them away, replaced himself with alice, planted something similar for her to start the relationship, then step back and watch it fall. and i think the thing that stands out there is just how tender he is while saying it. there's an undercurrent of something else entirely underneath, it isn't a dig at daniel in the moment, despite the pushing earlier in the scene.

and then in s1, when louis say to daniel, "i'd give it to you now." and the cut to armand, still in disguise, and his micro-expression of horror, the way he stiffens and looks away... and the little moment of what i read as conflict when daniel says no. his jump to "may i be excused?" i can't tell in the moment, if he's horrified about the offer itself, the fact that it is louis offering to turn daniel rather than himself, or the fact that daniel denies it. because i don't think armand could actually let daniel die if this was the case.

the disguise itself-- why pretend to be rashid? i think part of it is to try and hide behind a human persona to keep those memories at bay; especially given the little moments of flashback that got triggered by little mannerisms. i can't decide whether they're intentional pushes or not, whether armand wanted/wants daniel to remember on his own, or wants to keep it under wraps. i think, even if he believes he doesn't want it to come forward, he truly does deep down.

and once he's revealed himself as armand, the way he gazes at daniel, his beautiful boy. the continued "our boy", from both he and louis, the "he's still in there, somewhere..."

and i think "our boy" is also really interesting, because why would daniel be armand's boy, based solely on the moments that louis initially remembered? armand didn't really have any emotional connection to daniel that night, sure, he saved him, but that doesn't really mean anything; he saved daniel for louis, not for daniel's sake.

and, jumping back "our boy,[...] he's still in there somewhere"... there's implication that louis might know about it? again, i don't think this is related to the original interview, or at least, limited to it? i don't have anything concrete here, just vibes, but again, why is armand's boy still in there somewhere?

and sure, some of these are reaches and i don't think i'm necessarily right, but god it would be deliciously awful if i was.

[silverhalla]

I think it would be rly sick if you went to go build a crow rook and the surname was Arainai

like…. just another little compradi trying to bring glory back to your house - rinnala and taliesin are dead by the house’s hand, zevran failed and deserted, guili murdered in the night, all semblance of power lost once again. the house is trying to claw its way back up, futile as it seems. that’s the way of house arainai, isn’t it? talon to knife to talon to knife to nothing, same as it’s been since the house first lost power in the early dragon age. but you, bright-eyed little crow, you’ll break the cycle, won’t you? for the family?

after all, caterina’s prized heir is right there - the demon of vyrantium, the infamous mage killer, sleeping just down the hall. you can be quiet, can’t you? all those means at your disposal, and all the opportunities you could want. you could find a way in under that armor, get to something soft and bruisable and make it bleed. he’s far from home, isn’t he? without a friend? confidantes are few and far between - even a demon must get lonely.

maybe he’d even trust you. you’re a clever little bird, right? you can find something to exploit. after all, what does a would-be talon do except claw, except maim? what else would you be good for? there is no gentleness to crows - you are here to deliver a message: run, little demon, quick as you like.

house arainai will make carrion of you yet.

[shirogane-oushirou]

ogey, adding "digi!ren" (nickname tbd) -- a desktop buddy / ukagaka / shimeji au for ren -- to the f/o list! even if he eventually leaves the top romantic category, he's kyoot :) his tag is 💾 [ live in parallel. ] , and here's his key song lala (his true key song is smth else but. no good lyrics for his tag :/// )