#A TWO FRAME NOD BUT ITS SO SO FUCKING IMPORTANT

[densewentz]

hey if you guys go back to the scene where the Cat King puts the truth compulsion on Edwin and, after removing it, asks him "now, doesn't the truth feel better?" if you watch carefully you can see Edwin give a tiny shocked and vulnerable little nod right before the Cat King nods back and you TOO can start screaming and crying inconsolably like I am

[luv-unknwn]

Serene

daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary - ♡ you and daryl go on a run and things dont go entirely as planned....but in a good way

SMUT SMUT SMUT

a/n - ♡ ik this isnt that good i haven't slept and its almost 6 am so i aint editing it anywaysss, im watching the show for the first time rn and i just could NOT resist writing smth for daryl so enjoy!! 🤭

(changed the name cause i realized i forgot to change it so it didn't make sense pls)

"no- god damn it girl gon get us killed out here if you keep lookin round so much" daryl grabbed your wrist to pull you along the muddy trail, nearly falling on your ass from his fast pace. "keep up, quit draggin your feet"

"fuck off man its nice to get out of that damn prison sometimes and see the world even if it is filled with walkers and assholes like you" you snort, pushing forward so you're walking ahead of him. "besides, the slower i walk, the more time we spend together, and i know that you love hanging out with me so much, dont you, D?”

going on runs had become a favorite activity of yours, somehow even with daryl being such a grumpy gus, it was serene. walking through completely empty towns; the opposite of the now packed prison you were living in.

“oh come on, don’t pretend you don't love me” you giggle at daryl's annoyed look. you'd grown somewhat of a crush for daryl in the last months, as much as you wish you hadn't, it's been nice having something to focus on rather than the overwhelmingly loud but silent nights in the prison.

it was the simple head nods as you pass each other, and him asking specifically to take you on runs, always staying in front of you when something goes wrong. those were the things that really fueled this crush, which carol had pointed out to you. you'd honestly always thought there was something going on with those two but when she asked you about how close you and daryl had gotten she assured you they were only best friends.

“ain't got time for your wanderin today girl, lets go-” a twig snaps to your left. “get behind me”

the walker stumbles out from the trees grunting, growling, and drooling toward daryl before he shoots an arrow right into his left eye. not so aware of your surroundings a walker comes out of the trees behind you grabbing onto you, you fight against its hold. just as you get a hand free to reach for your knife, daryl shoots the walker and it falls loudly to the ground.

“-shit” you gasp in big breaths of air. you reach for daryl's arm grabbing hold for stability, “thanks, D.”

“‘course, won't let nothin’ bad happen to you” you practically melt at his words and the vulnerable look in his eyes when he says it, like he's telling you an important secret he's never told anyone else.

you're so close you can feel the heat coming off his body as your eyes move from his to his mouth. never wanting something so bad in your entire life.

he's pulling away before you can even think to move toward him.

“best keep goin ‘fore it gets dark” his words are dismissive, completely ignoring the clear sparks flying between the two of you just seconds ago.

“right, you're right” clearing your throat a bit awkwardly, you speed up so you're walking ahead of him, trying to focus as hard as you can just on the task at hand.

the first few houses you search were pretty much empty save for a can of beans. the next one however had an entire cabinet filled with things you could take back to the prison, but not before you and daryl have a few snacks to refuel for the trip back.

“maybe we should stay the night here? we can hit a few houses on the way back in the morning, it's getting late and i dont wanna be walkin’ back in the dark” you suggest to daryl from the living room of the house.

“‘kay, lets find some blankets n stuff we'll camp out in here” daryl's voice is right behind you when he speaks, startling you from looking at broken picture frames of the family who used to be here.

you managed a makeshift bed on the floor with the few blankets and pillows you found in the bedrooms. you and daryl now laying there staring quietly up at the ceiling.

“were-” daryl starts to say something but stops before he can even get the first word out.

“what is it, D?” you whisper, turning your body so you're laying on your side facing him.

“were you gonna kiss me earlier?” daryl's uncharacteristically hesitant voice whispers into the quiet room.

the air in the room is suddenly thicker than before and the closeness of you and daryl seems almost too close.

“was i- was i gonna kiss you? i mean i don't know you were so close and just you know it's not like i meant t-” you're cut off by daryl suddenly pressing his lips against yours gently, staying unmoving for a few seconds until your brain catches up with you enough for you to kiss back.

the kiss deepens when you reach your hands around his neck to pull him impossibly closer to you, his own hands sliding down from your cheeks to your shoulders to your hips.

“daryl i- i need you,” you whisper against his lips when you pull away a bit for air.

he pulls back farther to look into your eyes.

“you sure ‘bout this?” his voice is genuine, even as his hands are already under your shirt going farther up until he reaches your bra, stilling there while he waits for your answer.

“yes, please daryl” you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about this many times. daryle above you while you're begging for him.

the moment the words left your mouth he was sitting you up to pull your shirt over your head, quickly reconnecting your lips with a moan so low it could have been a growl.

daryl pulled away to reach around you and unhook your bra, letting it fall between you.

“fuck,” he sighed, letting his head fall to your shoulder at the sight of how perfectly your boobs fell naturally.

seconds later you were pushing his vest off and pulling his shirt over his head, throwing it across the room and leaning down to kiss over his muscular shoulders. daryl's hands fell to your boobs while you left reddish-purple spots all over his throat and shoulders.

“lemme get these off baby” he was already unbuttoning your jeans when you rose to your knees to help him pull them down off your ass, sitting back on the floor so he could pull them and your shoes completely off. he was feeling up and down your soft legs, the way he was squeezing your thighs making your core tighten around nothing. “so pretty f'me.”

daryl's hands trailed up your legs to the soft cotton of your panties, he groaned when his rough fingertips grazed the wet spot leaking through them.

“lift ya pretty legs honey” he grunts out, when you listen he pulls your panties down your legs. the cool air of the room hitting your wetness makes you whimper quietly. “s'even prettier than i imagined,”

daryl pushes your knees farther apart to get a better look at you before he bring a finger up to graze your wet entrance, sliding it up to press gentle circles against your clit, making you gasp from the stimulation.

“god that feels good, please don't stop” you're whining when he finally pushes two fingers into you, starting a steady pace while keeping his thumb on your clit moving quicker each second. you're an absolute moaning mess below him, your back arching against him.

“y'like that sweetheart? like how m'fingers feel inside you, yea? y’gonna cum f’me baby?” his words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, your legs shaking around his hand.

“fuck- shit you're g-” you cut yourself off with a louder moan when he quickens the pace of his fingers, “s’good at this”

“c'mon baby, cum f'me, all over my fingers. thats right, good girl.” his words are what push you over the edge, the filthy words mixed in with his gentle praise has you shaking as you ride the intense waves of your orgasm. “such a good girl f'me”

when your breathing starts to slow back to a normal pace you feel daryl pull his fingers out of you and being them up to his lips, sucking your juices off his own fingers.

“that was- wow” you saw still trying to catch your breath, legs not fully stopped shaking either. before daryl can say anything else you're reaching for his belt to undo it.

“no, s'alright. wanted to make you feel good, go to sleep” he says grabbing your t-shirt and pulling it over your head.

“but-”

“nah if ya really feelin’ up for it, in the mornin’ you can, but we gotta get some sleep tonight” daryl leans over and kisses your forehead and pulls you down to lay on his chest.

and that's exactly how you woke up in the morning, cuddled up on the floor, clothes thrown around the room, hickies everywhere.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the diamond

lilac, chapter seventeen

a/n: idk if I should say i'm sorry or you're welcome. i guess it depends on what kind of day you're having as you read this.

summary: “did you really think a little bit of paperwork could stop me? Could stop us from being together?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, dark, angst, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kidnapping, crying, violence, cliffhanger

word count: 1717

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You didn’t recognise the opulent apartment you now found yourself in. Not that it really came as a shock. You properly only knew of a fraction of the properties Preston’s family owned. 

With gilded details and tall windows, you did however recognise the view as the familiar twinkle of the New York City skyline sparkled back at you. 

Scarcely breathing, you didn’t dare to even shift as you sat on the edge of a bed, its red silk sheets burned the nerves across your legs and worsened the nauseating sting at the back of your throat. 

Turning back to face you, Preston stepped up close and said, “Let’s get this off of you, shall we?” before he slowly peeled off the tape covering your lips, but as soon as he had rid you of it, you reeled forward slightly and spat directly in his face. The angry dollop slid down across his forehead and over the still freshly pink scar that split his dark eyebrow. But, to your horror, instead of getting angry, all your action did was conjure a dark chuckle deep within his chest, “I missed you too, doll,” you watched him reach up and wipe the saliva away before his fingers drifted down into his pocket and produced a switchblade that he promptly popped out with a flourish. Sucking in a sharp breath, you braced yourself, expecting for him to strike, only he didn’t. The knife instead sliced the tape constricting your ankles and then through the ones at your wrists, “there,” he shot you a bone-chilling smile, “much better.”

Glaring back at him, almost in disbelief at the measures he’d evidently be willing to take, you shuddered, “I-I have a restraining order against you.” 

“You do,” he nodded matter a factly, “why, did you really think a little bit of paperwork could stop me? Could stop us from being together?” your frame jumped jaggedly as you felt his touch slither up your sides, “we’re soulmates, you and I. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can keep us apart,” he breathed as he leaned in closer and pressed his lips to yours. Staying as still as you possibly could, the sting of tears rolled down your cheeks as he soon leaned back, a sour look now tainting his features, “kiss me back,” he growled through gritted teeth, “we haven’t seen each other in two months, so kiss me the fuck back. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Choking down a sob, you willed your lips to meet his again, trembling fretfully as you gave him what he wanted, the forceful feeling of his tongue invading your mouth forced a petrified whimper to escape your lungs, one that he mistook as praise as one of his ring adorned hands came up to clasp your jaw possessively. 

When he finally pulled back, leaving just a sliver of air between you, a question left your quivering lips.

“Preston, where are we?”

“Nowhere important,” his dark eyes trailed one of the tears rolling down your face, “don’t worry, this is just temporary till the morning. Gosh, you look so beautiful when you cry…”

“W-what’s happening in the morning? Where are we going?”

“To this little island my dad’s got in the Caribbean. You’ll like it, trust me. It’s got some of the bluest water you’ve ever seen,” he smirked before briefly turning his head to the rough-looking man posted by the door as a guard, “hey, go fetch me a drink.”

“Right away, sir,” he complied. 

As Preston turned his gaze back to you, his head began to shake as it washed down the length of your body, “what is this dress you’re wearing? You know I hate you in green on you.” 

“I-I’m sorry. I could go change if you–” 

But your sentence crumbled into nothing as you felt the cold tip of his knife trail up your leg, “oh, there’s no need for that, doll,” the blade scraped over your skin, up the slit where your wrap dress had parted like a curtain over your thigh, never hard enough to actually draw blood, but just enough to rip up a layer or two of flesh. He continued after he reached the top of your thigh, dragging it up your velvet dress till he slipped it under the knot that held your garment closed, and cut clean through it. The slash didn’t automatically cause the dark green fabric to fall open completely, but Preston didn’t hesitate to unwrap you like a birthday present, “damn..” he groaned as he pushed the dress open, revealing your lack of undergarments beneath, “would you look at that… you’re not wearing anything underneath this… ” you squeezed your eyes shut as he then grazed the tip of his knife over your skin, from the peak of your breast to low down on your stomach, he trailed it like he would his wicked tongue, in some sick and twisted up way caressing you with the weapon, “tell me, doll, just why aren’t you? I’d love to think this is all for me, but you didn’t know we’d be reunited tonight, so who is it for?” rage gradually began to harshen his tone, “who?” as you found yourself unable to form any words at all, “is it that guy? What did you call him… Frank? Have you been whoring yourself out to Frank? Not wearing anything underneath your dresses and making it easy for him to just slide in and use what belongs to me?” nicking the curve of your waist, he then shook you as he barked, “answer me!” successfully drawing a shrill scream from your lungs as you squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

Just as you feared he’d give you more than just a shy scratch, the double doors to the bedroom creaked open and in stepped the guard. Without another word, Preston’s presence disappeared. 

Cautiously fluttering your bloodshot eyes open once more, you saw as the guard settled back into his place and Preston clutched a stout crystal glass, hastily downing the dark amber liquid before slamming it onto a side table. Trying your best to cover yourself back up, you watched as Preston folded up the switchblade and stuffed it back into his pocket. 

Letting out a deep sigh, he then dipped his fingers into his dark suit jacket, and from an inner pocket, fished out a small velvet box.

“I got you a new ring, by the way,” he huffed, opening it up as he stepped back to where you sat, “this one’s bigger, like I promised.” 

Sitting down on the crimson sheets beside you, he seized your trembling hand and slid the extravagant band into place, gripping your palm painfully as you glanced down at the massive diamond hauntingly glimmering back at you.

“You like it?” 

The silver felt as if it burned your finger, like it had been dipped in hot searing acid mere seconds before sliding into place over your knuckles. But still, you just offered him a shaky nod as more tears dripped from your chin. 

Lifting your glare from the colossal rock, you looked over at the guard and attempted to subtly catch his eye. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Preston swiftly noticed as his gaze never strayed far from you, “are you really so stupid that you think one of my guys will help you get away from me? Seriously? No amount of crocodile tears can get them to betray me,” locking his fingers around your jaw, you felt his hot breath graze the shell of your ear, “they’re loyal to me, to the Humphrey name,” casting his glace towards the guard, he snapped his free fingers, “hey, you! Look at my fiancé,” and to your horror, parted your ruined dress, “isn’t she beautiful? Answer me.”

“Yes, sir,” his reply had a military, nearly robotic lack of feelings to it, but nevertheless managed to still scratch Preston’s itch.

With his right, inked hand, Preston groped your breast firmly, “these gorgeous tits,” before sliding his unwanted touch further down your trembling body, “this round ass and this tight fucking cunt, all belongs to me,” he growled, before stretching his palm out towards the guard, “give me your lighter,” to which the harsh man swiftly obeyed, “I want everyone to know so, no matter what happens, no matter if you lose your ring again or what, I want everyone to know,” peeling his extravagant pinkie ring off, the swirly H that was embossed on it indicated it was his family ring that he now held in his grasp, harshly commanded the guard, “hold her still,” before he flicked on the lighter and held the flame under the seal, heating it up till the metal nearly glowed. Tuning out your screams of searing agony, Preston pressed the scorching crest to the very top of your exposed thigh and branded you like you were just a stock animal, “there,” he waved a hand for the guard to let go of you, “that should do the trick.” 

As you shuttered in pain, Preston drew you in so close that you ended up in his lap, your spine pressed up against his chest and a horrifying hardness determined beneath your bottom.

“What do you think, doll? Should I let him stand there and watch us fuck?” he rocked selfishly below you, “maybe tonight will be the night I finally knock you up–” 

His vile words were cut short as a series of gunshots suddenly went off on the other side of the door. 

“You,” Preston waved to the guard, “go see what’s going on.”

Pulling out a gun, the man then slipped out only for the symphony of struggle to fill the apartment further. 

“Shit,” you heard Preston mutter in alarm before he conjured his knife once more. 

But when the scuffle abruptly stopped and silence washed over the luxurious apartment, only a moment passed before the grand double doors slammed open and in the threshold, with a gun firmly trained in Preston’s direction, stood the blood-soaked visage of Frank. 

Moving just as fast, Preston shifted behind you, hauling you up to your feet and holding you to him like a shield as you felt the razor-like edge of his blade press against your throat.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[vampire-scones]

His perm is hanging on for dear life at this point. It's been about eight or nine months since his last appointment and the curls were really fighting for their lives. Billy sighed as he looked in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't have that kind of money right now so he could do one of two things. He could start spending hours in the bathroom each morning curling his own hair, or he could just let his hair get in that weird in between of wavy and straight which he hated.

As he looked in the mirror the shine of one of his record sleeves caught his eye. It was Motley Crue's 'Shout at the Devil'. All the band members were on the front, done up in their stage make up and their hair teased to high heaven. His gaze immediately went to Vince Neil. Billy would be lying if he said he didn't think the lead singer was at least a little hot. But his hair...he'd never straightened his hair but he knew damn well he could pull off looking like Vince if he tired.

Billy found himself in the bathroom for the next hour and a bit, Susan's flat iron doing its work in taking the life out of the last of his curls. In one of his copies of Metal Edge he had been able to find a good photo of Vince Neil. His hair teased to hell but still framing that pretty boy face.

After Billy was finished with the flat iron he grabbed a comb, starting to tease and back brush his hair. It took a few tries before he had how he wanted it. All that was left was the hairspray. His new can was half empty by the time he was done with it. He looked in the mirror and couldn't help but grin. He looked fucking good. He looked like a rockstar. Sure this wasn't a style he was gonna be pulling off all the time, but as a little change before his next perm? Absolutely. Now the only thing left was to see how a certain someone would feel about it.

Billy cleaned up the bathroom, hid his magazine away again, and grabbed his keys. He put on a pair of boots and walked out to his Camaro. When he got in he cranked the volume of his 'Too Fast for Love' tap and drove off. With his sunglasses on and music blaring he drove way too fast down the back streets of Hawkins until he reached his destination. Harrington's house.

He pulled into the driveway and saw the door already starting to open. He guessed Steve knew it was him from the music. He leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow as Billy shut off the music.

"Not even a call before you come over? You got something important to tell me?" He asked from his spot in the doorway.

Billy got out of his car and gave his hair a bit of a shake, making sure his hair caught Steve's attention. He took off his sunglasses and hung them on his shirt while he walked up to him.

"What? Can't I just pop by because I feel like it? Or do I have to have a formal invitation from the king?"

Steve stood there, just looking Billy over. His hair was so...different. Steve reached out to touch his hair. "Holy shit...you were busy in your bathroom today."

Billy let out a bark of a laugh and just grinned at Steve. "Like it, pretty boy?"

Steve couldn't help but nod. "Yeah...it looks good. Different. You look like a rockstar.."

"And I'm guessing your into rockstars?"

"I didn't say that! I just said you looked like one."

Billy smirked. He watched as Steve stayed mesmerized by his new look. He would take that as the approval from the masses he was looking for.

"Well you can't get your hands out of my hair, maybe we should go inside so you can pull it."

Steve didn't say anything to this and just grabbed Billy by his collar and pulled him inside, letting the door slam closed behind them.

(Inspired by some tags @flayedintheusa left on another one of my posts!)

[livingddeadgirlrl]

Shiu & Toji x reader smut

(cw: belly bulge, spit roasting, idk just rly horny.)

hello, i want to get into smut writing so… first attempt. my pussy wrote this, not me. just imagining being sandwiched between these two himbos. meeeeeeooww. anyways let's get on with it. (i didn’t proofread it so sorry if there’s inconsistencies…)

you were about to go out for a drink, getting all dolled up, delicately placing strokes of eyeliner on your eyelids while looking in the mirror. you tied your sleek black hair back, reaching down to the middle of your back. you gazed at yourself in the mirror for a few long seconds, checking your makeup, making sure it was just how you liked it and how you always did it—rosy blush on the high points of your cheeks, dark gray eyeshadow contrasting with your fair skin, thick wings of eyeliner, making your eyes appear cat-like, and dark red lipstick covering your plump red lips. it all appeared so perfect right now, and nothing could ruin it…

you dressed yourself in a long black dress, with thin straps, so thin that a simple tug could snap them off completely. the dress was soft to the touch and dangerously form fitting, highlighting your figure. you were slim, just above the average female height, with curves that appeared so delicate and fragile, your waist curving in and back out again to meet your perfect hips. you walked over to the mirror in your bedroom, straightening out the creases in the dress while simultaneously scanning your own appearance. you remembered why you loved this dress so dearly—the way it hugged your sizable breasts, so soft and glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom. the way the material curved along with your ass—it was all too good. you let your hair out of the tie, letting it cascade around your shoulders and drape in front of your breasts, like it was framing them flawlessly. you strapped on your black high heels one at a time, leaning on the edge of your bed for support when you heard your phone vibrating on your nightstand. you walk over to check who was calling at such a perfect time, hoping it was nothing too important. you leaned over the phone and sighed deeply. “fuck.”

“what do you need?’ you hissed through the phone. “easy, now. there’s a job. it's too much for toji to do on his own, so we need you to accompany us. i sent the driver over. see you soon” they replied. you groaned, desperately wanting someone, anyone to save you. you thought of skipping out on it, simply sending the driver home, but the thought of the abundance of money you could make from this job taunted you. you grumbled under your breath, grabbing your bag full of the tools you would need. you waited at your door, hoping at least the driver would arrive soon to offer some refuge from the cold that was forcing your skin to prick up. you spotted a pair of headlights in the dark, illuminating the dark street that your apartment rested on. the sleek black car pulled up to the front, and you advanced towards it. you opened the back door, slid into the seat, and nodded to the driver. once you shut the door, the car began its journey to the place you dreaded so dearly.

after a drive that felt so drawn out, the car arrived at the building. from the outside, it seemed as though it was simply one of the several corporate buildings within the city, but this was a facade. the driver opened the door for you, escorted you to the sliding automatic doors at the front, and left. you walked to the elevator, your finger automatically pressing the button to the thirteenth floor out of habit. you tapped impatiently on your now crossed arms, your dark red nails creating soft pelting noises on your skin. the doors finally opened, and you walked out to the lobby of the thirteenth floor, your heels clicking on the cold floor. your body habitually made its way to the office you were oh so familiar with, slightly inhaling before your fingers wrapped around the cold handle, opening the door.

“there she is…” shiu exclaimed. he was seated at the large office table, at the very end. toji was seated next to him, with one empty chair in between the two, painfully muscular arms folded over each other. the room was dimly lit, adding to the secretive ambience. “hello shiu.. toji.” you replied, sounding intensely disinterested. “come sit. we were just about to go over the details.” you walked over, hips swaying slightly, as they naturally did. you sat down in the empty chair between them, obviously left vacant for your ass. you felt their eyes intensely roaming over you and your body, contributing to your frustration. “this better be important.” you muttered. your voice was always immediately identifiable—so smooth, slightly deeper, and very womanly, not like a young girl's. “come on… already so angry? what’s the matter...” shiu said playfully, while toji stayed silent. typical. you didn’t reply, the frustration already growing in your core. “why don’t we play nice today, huh?” he added. “god. this is why i fucking hate working with you both.” you snapped in return. “toji… she’s extra feisty today… think we should do something to fix that…?” shiu’s words rolled off of his tongue so seductively. “she deserves a lesson. always coming to our meetings fuckin pissed off… so annoying.” toji muttered out. you were clearly fuming now, trying to hold your tongue. you wanted to snap at both of these men, but you knew it wasn’t the wisest choice. after all, they always towered over you. their bodies so muscular and thick compared to yours, although you had some of your own. shiu’s fingers danced over the material of your dress, tracing circles on your thigh. you crossed your arms, hinting that you were not in the mood. toji’ s rough and large hands also began to creep towards your thighs, as you shifted in your chair. his hand, now enveloping your thigh, massaged it lightly. “jesus christ. can’t go one fucking mission without getting so horny?” you hissed. “come on y/n… you know you always enjoy it… when are you going to stop fighting it…” toji whispered out in a low voice. this was beginning to become a common occurrence. these men lured you in with a “mission,” only for you to end up in these positions. you were always tempted by the money that would come with the job, but it never showed. all these “meetings” would offer you were bruises and bite marks littered all over your delicate skin. you were naive in that aspect, so easily fooled.

you didn’t give in to their seductions at first, letting them satisfy themselves by attempting to get under your skin with all of their teasing. but after their hands roamed your thighs for several minutes too long, your body went against you. it was your worst enemy. always falling weak to their actions, even when your mind wanted to fight it. your dress was now scrunched up to your hips, your black lace thong now visible. “y/n… if you hate this so much… then why are you wearing these…” shiu whispered in your ear. you rolled your eyes lightly. “i was about to go out before you called me here.” shiu and toji both let out a low chuckle to your response, not believing your words one bit. “mhm… and that’s why you’re already so wet too, huh?” toji said in a low voice mixed with a growl. “shut up..” you mumbled. “keep up with this tough guy act of yours and we won’t let you cum this time, brat.” toji snapped back at you. you groaned in response. you were always annoyed when they did this, but the least they could do was let you cum. toji’s big fingers tugged at the lining of your underwear that was covering your slit, pulling it to the side. you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm, as you knew they could both see how slick your folds now were. “fuckin slut” toji muttered. without any warning, he pressed one of his large fingers all the way inside your cunt, causing you to yelp out. “shhh… just relax…” shiu whispered in your ear, brushing your hair to the side and now littering kisses down your neck. toji’s finger moved around, attempting to stretch out your tight and gummy walls. he pressed another finger in harshly, and you gripped onto his forearm as you whimpered. “f-fuck… go easy…” you said under your breath. “no way. slutty little pussy of yours deserves to be punished.” toji said. shiu kept kissing your neck, tongue lapping at your skin as his fingers now tugged at the straps of your dress, pulling them down ever so slowly. he trailed kisses down to your collarbone, finally slipping your dress past your breasts, letting it rest on your ribs. he stared hungrily at your breasts, which were not covered in the usual bra you wore. the dress didn’t need a bra, you thought, so you never wore one with it. toji’s fingers began to pump in and out of your cunt, his fingers covered in your essence now. shiu’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, as his fingers brushed over the other, tracing light circles around it. his tongue lapped over your nipple, as his breathing grew heavier. toji’s pace quickened, your pussy now making squelching sounds. a soft moan escaped your lips, lacing your fingers through shiu’s hair as his tongue traced circles around your nipple, the bulge in his pants now becoming unbearable. toji’s erection was also now visible through his pants, and your eyes trailed towards it. you hated this. hated how easily you melted into their touch, how their fingers remembered the exact spots to reach that made your panties pool with your wetness. how your body squirmed under their rough touches. toji’s fingers pumped in and out even faster, causing your grip on his arm to tighten and your legs to twitch slightly. your mouth hung open, your dark red lips parted. shiu took this opportunity to place a passionate kiss on your lips, his hands massaging your tits. toji’s fingers curled up into that perfect spot, causing you to moan into the kiss that shiu planted on your lips. his pace never faltered, your body writhing and shaking in that god awful desk chair. you had to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, mewls escaping your lips as your back arched. toji looked up at you, watching your face contort in pleasure with a devilish smirk on his face. shiu’s lips went back to your nipple, sucking harder this time, adding to the pressure that was building in your stomach. his other hand traveled up your neck, lightly holding it, yet not fully choking you. toji pumped his fingers harder, and the coil in your stomach was about to snap. (go to my other post for the rest)

[hitlikehammers]

straw poll: How Many Times Can You Sleep In The Same Bed With A Guy Before It Starts To ✨Mean Something✨?

Because Steve's just there to be a good friend hold Eddie close through the night so Eddie knows what his breathing sounds like as he falls asleep help Eddie through the nightmares, right?(!??!)

or: just how many manners of sin does 'trauma' cover, exactly?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< two: wash🚿

💤🪦 three: sleep 🌗 🛌

Eddie shoots up in his bed, less afraid of choking on his own heart for its pounding than he is for gnashing it apart with his teeth, it’s surged so high and he can’t breathe, he doesn’t know if he wants to because it’s dark and he can’t see and last thing he did see was, was—

“Ed,” and it’s murmured so close, and the bed dips quick as warmth envelops Eddie’s frame, as a hand grabs one wrist, both wrists and crushes them between two bodies to feel, feel—

“Eddie, breathe, breathe, shhh,” and oh: that’s what he’d seen, what he always sees now: the images he remembers, and the things he’s been told of his own near-demise, but it’s not his body; it’s never his body and more, and worse, they’re always too late and he’s being told to breathe but he can’t, he can’t breathe because they failed, he failed and Steve’s not breathing, he’ll never breathe again—

“Right here, Eds, I’m right here,” and one hand lets go of him and starts carefully wiping at Eddie’s face, drying his eyes so they can focus and recognize not just the touch and the scent and the heat but the sight of the body wrapped around him.

“I’m with you, you’re okay,” Steve breathes, he breathes and Eddie can feel it, he can feel it and it makes no sense but it’s clear and it’s deep and deliberate and, and—

“Breathe with me, come on, just breathe,” Steve coxes a little like soothing a wounded animal and…that’s apt, Eddie feels small and skittish and he needs the warmth and the dawning truth of Steve’s weight against his bones; “it’s okay, everyone’s okay,” and yes, yes, that’s important, that’s so important but it’s not enough, there’s still blood pumping like it wants to leap from his mouth as he gasps because he cannot fucking breathe until—

“I’m okay.”

Steve says it as just part of an ongoing litany of reassurance, hopes to calm Eddie into, y’know, the basic needs of human survival, heart and lungs remembering how to move right but—

Steve’s okay.

It’s like Eddie heart and lungs had an agenda; like maybe they didn’t want to move right if the dream—a dream, a dream, just a dream, Steve’s chest lifts against him, falls, lifts again, and again, and again, real—but maybe neither was really invested in survival, if it all hadn’t just been a dream.

“We’re okay, Eds,” and Eddie doesn’t mean to gasp, to half moan and half whimper in something wreathed in pure relief, doesn’t plan to burrow into Steve like he does as Steve presses closer, closer, so it’s only logical, only the reasonable thing when Steve’s lips move against Eddie’s skin at the hairline, at the temple when he speaks, he’s just that close, y’know—

“Swear,” Steve murmurs, and he crushes their hands a little closer between both their chests, and his face is still so close because of it—no other reason, it can’t be any other reason—that his lips drag when he breathes, when he fucking vows:

“I swear we’re okay.”

Eddie nods, just nods; Steve keeps him tucked under his chin, safe: he lifts with his breathing, his heartbeat’s right there, taunt but true, realand maybe Eddie nuzzles there a little, so fucking sue him.

It’s been like this, though. Lately. More than just lately; it’s been like this for a while. Steve had always been around for the nightmares, and he always came to ease Eddie through them but he ended up back on the couch if Wayne wasn’t there, or in the chair in the corner, or the sleeping bag they’d found and he’d set up on the floor before Eddie could protest—and he never wanted to push too hard because, because…

At least on the floor, Eddie could hear him breathe.

But then, then the nightmares stopped being highlight reels of reality; then they turned, and they’re focused on…variations on a theme.

A theme of losing one Steve Harrington.

And then Eddie grew clingy, without even meaning to, or planning to, and Steve never fought him. It took a couple weeks before Steve didn’t only come to him as soon as Eddie started gasping, screaming and then stayed with him through the night, no: then Steve just started coming with him to bed and opening his arms to roll into, to wake up shaking against.

It didn’t make the nightmares go away but it made them…bearable. Because proof of the lies in them was there waiting to wrap around him, if he wasn’t already buried in that warm, fuzzy, living chest.

Where Eddie’s pressed tight, now. And he…he couldn’t say what tips the scales. What changes things when nothing is different. Steve���s heartbeat’s a little faster, maybe Eddie’s gasping heavier, more of Steve in his lungs than usual. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Whatever the reason, Eddie lets his open lips drag along Steve’s collarbone. For proximity’s sake.

“Steve?”

And Eddie’s back to feel like his heart’s less a threat like the bat tails choking than it is for the biting in half where it’s caught on his tongue, like an offering, or else damnation.

Maybe both.

“Hmm?” Steve’s hum’s a little sleepy but he’s quick to maneuver them, to face Eddie and rove eyes over Eddie’s face with fully-wakeful care; concern.

Offering. His heart’s a manic wild thing thrashing on his tongue when he makes to speak but it’s…

It’s Steve’s. His heart is Steve’s and Eddie’s lost but in maybe the best most terrifying way imaginable; Eddie is beholden to Steve with all of him, and if the ungainly pulp shaking out of his ribs and up past his throat’s going to fall out with the words he has to whisper, well.

It’s Steve’s, and whether he feels anything at all in return, he’s been more than the word kind knows how to hold; maybe he’ll be gentle with it even in rejecting how it shakes, for him.

Kinda, just for him. Like this: just for him.

“What is this?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t gesture or look anywhere but in Steve’s eyes but: their hands are still linked, and his fingers twitch without him meaning to move them at all but Steve.

Steve grips tighter. Steadies him with question; immediate.

“Trauma,” Steve huffs a little, humorless, but his breath’s so near, so warm: “or so they tell me.”

“No, I mean,” and Eddie’s shaking his head then because; “yeah, yes, definitely that, but,” and Eddie can be brave, he has to be brave because if he’s not brave this will maybe break him: the middle space without an answer, he needs some kind of answer—

“I mean this,” and now Eddie forces himself to tighten his fingers, and presses into Steve closer: Steve’s heart isn’t wild, but it’s not calm either. It’s not sleep-slow. It’s…untamed.

Eddie doesn’t know what it means.

But Steve looks at their hands, pulls Eddie’s fingertips through the curls on his chest, starts tracing Eddie’s nails from cuticle to tip.

“I’ve never been good with subtle,” Steve barely breathes, and his heart’s faster for it, where Eddie can feel; “or moving slow,” and then he laughs; it’s not humorous now either, more self deprecating, and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t like that.

Eddie loves this man too much.

“Kinda notorious for wearing my heart on my sleeve and all,” and Steve shrugs, only pauses the motions of their hands for half a breath, less than a heartbeat at the going pace. It feels too small for something so…significant.

Something precious like that.

“Easy to get stomped on,” Eddie finds the words tumbling out, almost aggrieved; he heard the rumors, even among their friends, their family but faced with it so stark like this, naked chest to chest, it’s…unthinkable.

It hurts, just to think of.

“Yeah,” Steve exhales; fucking…Eddie thinks that sounds resigned: “I know.”

Eddie doesn’t expect the whine that escapes him, a little jagged on the frantic pulse he can feel all in his teeth; he doesn’t expect it, but it’s not big enough. It’s not deep enough for the ache in him at that…acceptance, that expectation of hurt.

“I didn’t,” Eddie starts, desperate for him to know; however this plays out, Steve cannot ever, ever believe his heart isn’t…isn’t the most invaluable gift in, in—

In any universe. Any dimension. Across any existence at all worth knowing.

He doesn’t think the words he knows could do the sentiment justice, though. And words, shit: he should be good with those but, even if he knew the right ones. Hell just fought up his still-pounding heart with a flail and that’s…

He grabs Steve's hand tighter, fit to break bones: the need unquestionable.

He hopes the want, the devotion in him translates just as clear.

And then, oh holy fuck—then.

Steve holds back just as hard.

“I wanted to try to keep the ball in your court,” Steve exhales, shaky; and Eddie knows, he knows they’re on the same page. Steve’s heart’s so fast. Eddie’s is faster.

“I told you,” Eddie starts, more like he’s trying to figure it all out for himself more than arguing anything but, how could Steve had thought Eddie didn’t, how could—

Why would anyone trust Eddie with any kind of sports-oriented ball—

“With the shower, and—“

“I’m not that guy anymore,” Steve barely whispers; “you might’ve had a crush on me then but now I’m,” Eddie feels Steve swallow; hears his heartbeat maybe skip; “I think, I mean, I hope I’m a different person.”

Eddie has to breathe at the notch in Steve’s throat for a couple seconds, maybe minutes; this…this sounds like…like maybe…

“And just because the ball’s in your court,” Steve’s pulse kicks up, and up, and—

“Didn’t mean my heart wasn’t still held out for the stomping,” and he’s twirling Eddie’s hair, he’s twirling his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he talks about the impossible possibility of, of what: Eddie…not wanting, of Eddie doing the stomping—

Eddie can barely swallow.

“You saying you wouldn’t help bathe all your friends in similar circumstances?” he mostly kinda squeaks; he can barely hear over the rush of his own blood.

“I’m saying not all of them,” there’s a little smile in Steve’s voice, but his pulse is still knocking against where Eddie pressed into his neck; “but I wouldn’t be risking my heart for it either way.”

And Eddie…Eddie thinks he’s maybe dying, for real this time. He thinks maybe he’s never felt alive before this moment, ever.

He blames the confusion, for not thinking through his next words.

“Would it be too not-slow,” Eddie mouths against the pulsepoint jumping at him, fit perfect to his lips; “or unsubtle, if I said I thought I was in love with you?”

He might not think the words through, but hell if he regrets them for a goddamn second.

Not when Steve doesn’t move to pull away, doesn’t let go at all, holds on tight—but the pulse against Eddie’s lips redefines what it means to hammer, to race.

Eddie starts thinking about turning, looking Steve in the eye and hoping to find what he…what he thinks he’ll find but there’s still a part of him that’s scared, that’s not brave, that’s…

But then Steve’s moving, raising up to meet Eddie’s gaze: so bright in the middle of the night, in the pitch dark. Lips open, breathing heavy, their chests still flush but now Steve’s reaching, framing Eddie’s face and just…looking.

Nah, no: staring.

“Steve?” Eddie thinks it’s more a matter of his lips moving than of sound coming out, especially as he tries to follow the pad of Steve’s thumb as it traces the corner of Eddie’s lips, careful, so careful, like Eddie’s glass and wonder all at once and—

“I think I’m in love with you, too.”

And then Steve’s leaning in, then Eddie’s learning that Steve tastes like leftover toothpaste and some kind of spice they hadn’t eaten, that Eddie doesn’t know: thinks, believes is what dawn tastes like, the breaking of day itself in Steve’s mouth, his veins.

They move slow, slick, tongues less exploring and more kinda worshipping; Eddie’s been kissed harder and faster and deeper for the technical definitions of any of the terms but he’s never felt so dizzy, so spun from the axis of his world, the line that splits his heart in halves; never like someone was tongue his soul out gentle to weigh and bathe in, like, adoration.

Eddie doesn’t have a word for how it steals his breath.

“Hey,” he tried to gasp anyway when they break apart for air; “hey, Stevie?”

“Hmm?” Steve hums, running the line of his nose up Eddie’s jaw, and Eddie throws his head back, shivers when Steve licks at the fading scars as he goes. When he makes it to kiss Eddie’s temple—because now he means to, or maybe he always did and, oh, oh shit, what if he always did—then he leans back and looks at Eddie, and there’s…

There’s so much in those eyes. It makes Eddie feel…almost-brave.

“What if I took the ‘think’ out?”

Steve tips his head, fucking adorable.

“Whatcha mean?”

Eddie swallows, and soaks up that gaze some more: almost-brave.

“I said I think I’m in love with you,” Eddie exhales; “what if I said that, but I took out the part where I say ‘think’?”

And oh wow: he’d thought, he’d known Steve was some inexplicable light before.

He’s putting their whole galaxy’s suns, every one of them Eddie doesn’t even know—the way his eyes shine and his smile beams puts every goddamn one of them to shame.

And Eddie doesn’t expect it, exactly, when Steve gathers his hands again and crushes them to his chest just to murmur low:

“Then I’d say this is yours to do with whatever you’d like,” and he moves Eddie’s palms to cup around the beat that’s still so fast and hard but not pulled taut anymore, closer to sugar high, or a rubber ball ricocheting around the ceiling just for the joy in it; “stomping included,” and he smiles for it like a joke but…but Eddie would never so—

He leans in and this time he captures the lips, and he presses hard, dares to nip at Steve’s lower lip and bite out:

“Never,” and he meets Steve’s eyes, watching them dilate impossibly in too little light and he just, he just…

He falls into Steve, presses his cheek close and, and feels him. Somehow all of it’s new.

“You okay?” Steve eventually asks, but doesn’t pull away, just slides a hand up the line of Eddie’s spine to steady, to keep him like there’s a question of Eddie going anywhere but here every again; and then just leans into Eddie’s cheek, magnetic-like.

And okay is such a foolish, insignificant word. Eddie could hold the weight of the earth ten times over, he feels strong enough; Eddie could swallow the stars and it wouldn’t matter because he has his own sun right in front of him.

Eddie doesn’t know if he understood the word happy before this moment, and every synonym for it that means the exact same thing’s a lot like okay: just too fucking small.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, and breathes Steve in so deep his lungs kinda shake for it before he breathes back out; “yeah, sweetheart,” and fuck, fuck—Eddie Munson’s not just in love.

Eddie Munson is loved in return. Eddie Munson loves, and is loved back. That’s…that’s just…

“I’ve never been better.”

>>> four: play 🎶🎧🎹

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

[highwayorgantrade]

Baptized By Fire (I)

Pairing: Ghost x (F)Reader

Request: Nope :)

Story Summary: Reader loses themselves to the mission - Ghost brings them back.

Chapter Summary: On your first specialized mission with Ghost and Soap, you were praying for everything to go right. Whether the idea was a sick joke or naivety, you did what you had to do to survive. Unfortunately, all actions have consequences.

Word Count: 2.8k

Song/Playlist:

Author's Note: Reader's callsign is Corpse! I got the idea for this fic by some ad I saw with these really cool titanium fangs, so I saw that and I was like yo lemme steal that rq so yeah I imagine reader having those but I don't really think it's necessary to the story! This is gonna be my first multi-chapter thing so I hope I can get everyone hooked bc LORRRDDDD the amount of stuff I have planned for this!

"When did intel say this guy was going to show up?" Soap grunted next to you, his rough voice teetering on the edge of being whiny. You knew the answer, everyone did. Three hours ago, a truck loaded with international weapons smugglers should have pulled outside of the house that you were sheltered in. The town had seen its last inhabitant months ago, right when this group began using it as a trading post. You were supposed to be in exfil by... Now, actually.

Ghost had parked himself in a barely-lit corner of the room, leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. You wondered, every so often, if he was actually asleep, but when he ran through the motions of checking his gun, you were reminded of exactly who he was. Ghost would never fall asleep on a mission, no matter how late it was running.

"I'm going up to the second floor." You finally sighed. "Gonna see if I can scope anything out." You used to opportunity to stretch your legs - you had stayed crouched for so long, and the cold simply was not helping. And the longer you were in the presence of Ghost, the more your mind ran wild, and the overwhelming desire to impress him got worse and worse as time went on. Soap said nothing, and Ghost simply nodded at you.

Well, good enough.

The stairs were old, and it felt like they were screaming your presence when they creaked under your footsteps. As you walked past, the memories that this house once held were clear at every footstep. Picture frames of the family, forgotten behind, had dust collecting on the frames, and various pieces of artwork littered the walls, varying from classic Kahlo to children's messy fingerpainting. You pushed the door to each room open, trying to buy time by yourself. Each room was more or less the same - dresser, bed, window. Maybe a tapestry here and there.

You kneeled in front of a large, busted out window at the end of the hall, pulling binoculars out of your bag, and settling in. You held the binoculars up and sighed. Still the same landscape you've been staring at for the past three hours. The same faded market signs, dead outdoor plants and... Different SUV. You don't remember that being there, parked in an alleyway between two businesses. The windows were tinted dark, almost completely blacked out, so the hope of seeing anything inside was dashed.

The low, hushed voices of Soap and Ghost downstairs met your ears. You should tell them about the car. See something, say something, right? Part of you slightly resented the connection they had, but they've been working together for years. Countless missions and days together. These were your early days in Task Force 141, and this was your third mission with them. First mission using a specialized group like this, which is exactly why is was extra important that you didn't fuck up.

An uneasy feeling locked in your chest, and you stood, electing to rejoin the two of them. You shouldn't be alone, especially if a fight was about to break out.

"Contact!" Ghost's rough voice cut through the quiet, and almost as if on cue, a pair of gloved hands wrapped around your mouth and torso, setting off every single danger alarm your body had. Your vision darkened from the panic, and your desperate attempt to free yourself was going mostly unnoticed. The small point of pressure in your back told you that the barrel of a gun was pressed into your spine.

"Stop fucking fighting. They're not coming for you." A low, vaguely Eastern European voice growled into your ear before pulling you back into a random room. It was familiar, one of the parent's rooms, you'd assumed.

How did they get in? How the fuck did they get in without you noticing?

The window. The busted out windows in every room of the house. They came around the back entrance, and Ghost and Soap are about to be ambushed. Your eyes widened at the realization, and the man in front you smiled. Your target. This was him. Along with three other men, your outlook did not look good.

Panic clawed its way into your throat, but nonetheless, you made an effort to keep your face as stoic as possible. Your target leaned against the now-shut door of the room, and the sound of gunshots was echoing throughout the house.

"You are the one they call Corpse?" He looked you up and down, and gestured to one of his men. "Take her gun. And the knife. Scream, and I'll kill you and your friends." They followed his direction immediately, and the hand that was once around your mouth was removed. "Do you understand the situation you're in?" He was speaking to you like you were a child, and anger licked at your chest. Yes, obviously you understood the situation. You were trapped, with no chance of fighting, no weapons, and no way to communicate. You felt like a cornered dog, surrounded by people you know would kill you in a heartbeat.

You simply nodded, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek so hard, the metallic taste of blood was leaking into your throat.

Your target walked around the room, almost casually, and he smiled at the floor.

"There is a way for you to walk out of this alive, you know." He stopped, his back to the window. "Your force is rather... Mysterious. You come with us, and answer my questions. Any question I have, willingly. You'll be answering either way. The only question is how I'll be able to get you there." He smiled at you, like you two were having a pleasant conversation about world affairs.

The memory of Ghost's voice echoed in your head. "Don't let anyone take you to a second location. No matter what they are promising, they will kill you."

They will kill you. They want to kill you. They will hurt you. They will hurt Ghost and Soap, and who knows who else. You felt like a cornered animal, and all you could hear were gunshots and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You spoke for the first time in a while, and your own voice was unrecognizable to you.

"Fine."

And with that, your vision went black.

"See any more?" Soap's ragged breathing cut through his words, and Ghost's eyes were still trained on the street. Enemy bodies littered the world outside, and his vision was still adjusting to the world outside the scope of his rifle.

"No movement." Ghost finally put his weapon down, slightly grateful that the mission was over so they could all finally go back to base.

"Would've been easier with some fuckin' help." Soap grumbled, and cast a glance up at the stairs where he last saw your retreating back. Ghost didn't take a second thought about you going to scope out the landscape, he knew you were nervous around him, and in his chest, he felt a pang of regret. He could've been nicer to you, talked to you a little bit more, but he simply had no idea how to navigate his feelings around you. You simply showed up to base one day, and that was that for him. At first, he thought you were... Slightly aggravating. How easily you became friends with the Task Force, the sunshine that radiated out of you... He figured that you must not have seen that much war if you were still that damn happy.

It was difficult for Ghost to accept that he was wrong about your skills. At the firing range, in hand to hand combat, in everything, you were just ever-so-slightly better than him, and he tried to let some of his feelings known through the small things, like allowing you to enter a room before him, or simply sitting next to you during debriefings.

A resounding thud pulled him out of his thoughts, and immediately, his head whipped toward the direction, his heart sinking in his chest.

"Corpse, status!" Soap shouted, and his command was only met with silence. Before Ghost could think, he was on his feet and creeping up the stairs silently, his weapon at the ready. Soap followed closely behind, knowing that if Ghost was doing this, it was for damn good reason. A noise echoed through the house, and out onto the street, and both men stopped dead in their tracks. A scream, so guttural, animalistic, and angry pierced the air, and it chilled Ghost to the bone. He had heard a lot of noises during war, but none he heard were like this.

Of all the doors in that hallway, only one was closed, and Ghost nodded toward it. Soap and him stood on opposite sides of the door, and Ghost's heartbeat was racing as he thought about what could be on the other side of this door. You could be injured, dead, or worst of all, gone altogether. The door creaked open, and the sight that lay in front of them caused Soap and Ghost to freeze.

You were standing over four dead bodies, carnage spread around the room. Your uniform was covered in blood, and your hands and face had the same fate. Blood dripped from your chin, and your teeth were bared, a low noise emitting from your mouth as your chest rose and fell rapidly. The one fact they couldn't ignore: Every single body in that room had their throats shredded into oblivion.

"Corpse?" Soap spoke softly, the horror in his voice being poorly masked, but Ghost couldn't take his eyes off you. You were shaking, and the usual light that was in your eyes was gone, replaced by brutality and viciousness. Ghost handed his gun to Soap, wanting it clear out of the way if you decided to attack him as well. He stepped forward, the bottom of his boots leaving bloody footprints on the way to you. His grip on your chin forced you to look at him.

"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier."

"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier." Ghost's voice was the only clear thing in your mind, and you felt like you had just woken up from a very long nap. Your mind was hazy, and you focused on Ghost's eyes searching yours for any hint of remaining humanity. The last thing you remember: The target advancing toward you with a knife. That was it.

"Ghost, I- The target-" Your voice shook, and you finally took note of your surroundings. The target in question was long dead, sat against his wall, and his neck- "Oh, my God." As soon as your eyes set on the carnage in the room, Ghost wrapped his hand around your arm and began pulling you.

"No, don't look. Don't look." His hand came around your eyes, so the only think you could see was a slight hint of the blood-stained floor. Soap said nothing as Ghost led you out of the room, down the stairs, and into the freezing air. When you were outside, Ghost unclipped your helmet, and Soap rounded the corner.

"What the fuck was that massacre, Corpse?"

You wracked your brain for a good explanation, a hint of any memory that would allow you to explain something that you simply cannot remember, and you came up dead empty.

"I- I don't know, I can't remember." Your voice was small, almost lost to the wind blowing through the town. You had never seen Soap upset, and his response certainly wasn't helping your confusion.

"You don't know?" He looked at you incredulously. "You don't know how you... You tore open their throats?"

"No! I don't know! I can't remember!" You wished you could lie to him. You wished you could remember any minor detail of what happened, but after the target came at you, the only thing you remember is Ghost bringing you back.

The bright headlights of a familiar van approached, and you jumped at the sudden brightness.

"Soap, that's exfil. Get in the car and tell them to wait." Ghost's low tone was commanding, and Soap could only sigh and place himself in the passenger seat, undoubtedly already coming up with a mission report.

"Corpse, focus on me." Your eyes left the van, and Ghost had placed himself directly in front of you, so there was nowhere to look but in his eyes. "Do you or do you not remember what happened?" The intensity at which he spoke made you want to cry, the fear of disappointing him feeling real.

"No, I- I don't remember anything. All I can remember is him coming at me with a knife, and the other three guys, they said they would hurt you and Soap, and they wanted to take me somewhere else, but you told me to never go to a second location, and I just... I don't know."

"Hush, love, I believe ya. Did they hurt you?" His hand moved to grasp your bicep, and you looked down at the ground.

"No, I don't think so. I'm not sure."

Ghost sighed, and looked back at the vehicle.

"Right, then. We'll get ya checked out, just in case, okay? Come on." He began walking, but stopped when he realized you weren't following him.

"Ghost, did I-" You took a shaky breath, your question stuck in your throat. "Did I fuck up? Am I going to be kicked out?" Ghost stared at you, your question hanging in the air, until he took a step toward you.

"Corpse, you killed our target. And then some. You won't be kicked out for completing a mission. Price might tell you have to see some kind of psychiatrist or therapist, but that's it. That's all, I promise. Now, you're going to get in the van, we're going to go back to base, and you're gonna shower. Get to."

There was no arguing with Ghost, you knew that. You knew he was right, but that still didn't stop the little fire of annoyance lighting in your chest, and it was made worse that you didn't know what you were annoyed more by - The fact that he was so confident about the hypothetical outcome, or the thought of having to re-explain the situation to your Captain. You sighed as you wrenched open the back door of the car, the copper scent of your actions filling the enclosed space.

The ride back to base was quiet, the radio occasionally tuning in to a random station, speaking in a language you had no hope of understanding. The sun had begun to rise on the horizon, an orange glow cast on the landscape, and you sighed at the sun hitting your face, the feeling unmatched after being submerged in darkness for what felt like forever.

A few hours had passed, and Soap's snoring in the front seat was almost peaceful. You hadn't dared sneak a look at your Lieutenant - you weren't sure what curdled your heart more, the thought of him staring at you in disgust or disappointment, or worse, not at all. When the car passed through the security checkpoint for the base you called home, you couldn't seem to focus on one problem or thought at a time. Finally, the car stopped, and the growling engine cut off. Ghost gave Soap a rough shove to his shoulder, startling the man awake.

"Soap. Go." Ghost's voice seemed almost impossibly rougher after staying silent for hours. Soap cast you a remorseful look before exiting the vehicle, along with the driver. Anxiety held its place in the base of your throat, the scent of blood suddenly was drowning you, and your hands shook as you began to fidget with the seatbelt latch. "Corpse. Captain wants to speak with you."

Ha. You're fired. You're so fired. Your one passion, the one thing you know you were born to do-. "You're not in trouble. He just wants to know what happened." Ghost sighed, and pressed his thumb into the latch, releasing your seatbelt. "Damn it, soldier, fuckin' look at me when I talk to you." His voice immediately took on a harsher infliction, and you stared up at him, reminded of what exactly your relationship is to him - he is a Lieutenant, you are a Sergeant. Nothing more. "Obviously..." Ghost's eyes looked you up and down. "Get showered first." Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke.

"Yes, sir." When your boots made contact with the ground, it felt like the weight of... Everything collapsed on your shoulders. The sun felt too bright, your gear heavy and sticky, and Ghost's eyes boring holes into the back of your head all combined into the worst storm possible. You shook your head, your own eyes trained on the ground in front of you as you walked to your barracks. Just keep it together until you're alone. All you have to do is make it to your room. That's all. Don't fall apart until you're there.

Do not fall apart until you're there.

[mdzs-fics]

ridiculous future bullshit by sami

Future Fic 19 works 61K words

While rereading through works related to Author sami's And Time Is But A Paper Moon, reviewed here and here and here, I remembered reading the ridiculous future bullshit series. Through 19 short works of fiction, Author sami creates a reasonable facsimile of what the future looks like if six Immortals survive into the 21st century, forming the Five Nations.

Note: Author sami tells us "So this is the actual first-ish entry in the ridiculous future bullshit series, which of course means it is still the purest trash, it's bullshit and any complaints will still be met with you were warned."

Let's take a quick look at a few of the tales.

Now Showing: Hanguang-Jun And The Yiling Patriarch

Wei Wuxian rubs his nose. "Look, I'm guessing you're okay with your movie being, like… complete bullshit, right?"

"They are okay with that. They are so very fucking okay with that," Steve snaps.

"Okay." Wei Wuxian grins, and Dennis suddenly absolutely believes that he is talking to a trickster god. "You don't want to put Sandu Shengshou in this movie, trust me. And if you make this about sh- Jiang Yanli's actual marriage, then she might cry, and then Sandu Shengshou and I will have to raze this place to the fucking ground and salt the earth on which it stood, nobody wants that kind of hassle. But you can have a poor girl named Mo Fan - she has a terrible family, make it a bit like Cinderella, that was an okay movie."

Wei Wuxian has seen Cinderella.

Dennis notices that a sparkly princess crown has fallen out of Wei Wuxian's shopping bags.

"Mo Fan," he croaks. "Got it. Cinderella."

Wei Wuxian nods earnestly. "And a handsome prince named Jin Guangyao meets her and falls in love with her. He's in town to… try and help the villagers rebuild after the famine that drew the monsters there," he says. "Because he's just a really good guy. You can say it sends messages about how not all heroes are stabby fighters."

In which an animated movie Hanguang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch is discussed with its Producer while the poor, ignored Five Nations consultant recognizes the two Immortals in the Producer's office.

Let's just say the original premise featuring "the story of Hanguang-Jun, a noble prince, who defeats the monsters terrorising the city of Yiling with the help of the grizzled old Yiling Patriarch, and in the process falls in love with a local maiden, Princess Lotus Blossom." is not appreciated.

Flick of the Wrist

Dernier is famous. He's been on television in sixteen countries. She's bound to be impressed.

He skips actually attending the afternoon session in favour of writing and then recording a long YouTube video about the Symposium. He titles it Inside the Top Secret Medical Conference You've Never Heard Of, and uploads it with a smirk. That'll show them for not actually inviting him.

In which a Famous Medical Researcher attends a Symposium held by Wen Qing. Once.

Lan Zhan's University Days (JAFFY)

Ziyuan gives him a look. "Last I checked, you weren't in charge of the computer science department, shushu, and this is what I have to do if I want to pass."

Jiang Ying scowls. "We'll see about that," he says darkly. He leaves the room briefly and comes back with a laptop of his own. It looks like it was probably sleek and expensive once, but now it's covered with glitter stickers. He sets it on the table and turns it on; when he clears away the windows he did have up, Jordan thinks she sees a browser tab open to YouTube frozen on a still frame of a Hanguang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch fanvid.

Jiang Ying really seems to like that movie. He wears Hanguang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch t-shirts at least once a week.

"You run Suibian?" Peter, one of the other students, sounds impressed. Jordan has heard of it - it's an open-source operating system, which is apparently important. Her sister is Very Into Computers, and talks about it a lot, apparently it's way better than other operating systems. Ava keeps trying to get Jordan to let her install it on her computer.

"I wrote Suibian," Jiang Ying says absently, typing rapidly.

"Holy shit," Peter breathes. "You're Axian?" He pronounces it Axe-ian.

"A-Xian," Jiang Ying corrects, still typing. "But you can't call me that, stick to Jiang Ying. I wrote it for my brother and sister, they needed something with actual security for their… work."

"Why does the source code say my sword is always at your service?" Peter asks eagerly. "Everyone has so many theories about that. Do you play D&D?"

"I don't. It says that because for them, it is. Hush now, do your work, I'm busy," Jiang Ying says, tossing a smile over his shoulder. Text is scrolling rapidly through several terminal windows.

In which Lan Zhan goes to veterinary school and the entire class is adopted for the semester after failing their first exam because Students Were Distracted.

Characters encountered here are met again and again in other tales. Some characters become more important than others.

And there are kittens.

The stories are not canon and are definitely not to be taken too seriously. Still … they are an exceptionally enjoyable read.

And yes, I enjoy YouTube "The Untamed" themed crack videos as well.

[minty-tea-soup]

Doors and Stargazing

First Post for AU-gust Ringduo things.

This is part of the DnD!AU. Not my best writing but still fun.

“Why don’t you use your Soup Shrine ever? Sometimes there will be a little note forming at the Library, the start of the stay but its never long or cohesive. We can make it better for you? What isn’t good-” Tea cut off Minty’s rambling chitters with their own concern, “I didn’t realize that it meant that much that I wasn’t staying the night in them. I cleaned it and kept it nice just don’t want to get trapped in there overnight.” “Trapped? It doesn’t trap you. It gives you a break from the world so that you don’t burn out. Allows time to not worry, to consider and have to rest. Being able to add to the Library is a bonus,” Minty was now actively looking around the Shrine as if it was broken. Pulling the well maintained door back and forth, checking how it sat in the frame. Then moving on to check all the windows as well. “The door locks at night. Can’t get out.” Minty stopped looking at the different points that lead to the outdoors and turned back towards Tea. A look of confusion and his ears flattened in displeasure before going inside and checking the hearth where the yellow and green fire burned away happily. After poking at the hearth a couple times Minty let out a little distressed call. Tea followed hesitantly into the Shrine worry poking at their brain, what was so wrong about wanting to sleep under the stars? Or wanting to experience the dark and quiet that came with the night? “You never stayed long enough for gifts?” Minty’s reflective eyes showed Tea their own confusion reflected back across the different angles contorting like a fun house mirror. “I didn’t want to owe anything.” “But you cleaned! You have helped resupply food. Oh this won’t do. I am going to sleep here tonight and try to talk to Sun God about what to do.”

And that’s what he did as Tea made a small camp outside to watch the stars. The door locking the two from each other. But at the first light of dawn Minty came out with a hammer and a couple other tools that he definitely did not have the night before. Without waking Tea who was sleeping peacefully he started to break the door off the hinges. Not a quiet task. BANG! Tea shot up ready to fight a threat to see the desecration of the Soup Shrine from Minty. Minty who had told them once about how Sun God only ever held malicious for those destroyed its creations: Shrines, people, the Library, it’s woods. And here it’s favored Cleric, someone who would eventually be enveloped and stitched into the fabric of what made Sun God itself was destroying one. Was this because Tea didn’t like the door? Was Minty really throwing away their entire future, one they loved so much, for a fucking door?! BANG! “Oof sorry didn’t mean to wake you up but these last couple bolts didn’t want to come out,” Minty apologized as they picked up the door and moved it off to the side, “Spoke with Sun God last night and we agreed that while a Shrine without a door gives more fuzzy vague stories it is more important that the Shrine is somewhere you feel safe. It sadly means it can’t give anymore boons or gifts but that’s fine. It will still hold the protective charms, just a bit looser. It shouldn’t hold you in at night now. That was the problem right?” Tea just nodded and watched as the door that was now being broken down, hardware stripped off before the heavy ash was being broken into chunks. Then feed into the fire inside. “There we go,” Minty smiled, this weird bare of teeth that would have been more malicious looking if her tail wasn’t bopping back and forth. “Why? Won’t Sun God be mad?” Tea was trying to hide the worry but couldn’t help drawing their cloak tighter as if the sun itself might look down and burn them both like the bugs they were.

“No of course not. I got full blessing. Sun God is the god of Creation. Sometimes Creation is change. While Sun God tends to be the Constant Creation so less regressive change and more building and growing change sometimes erosion is still change. A lot of people misunderstand. They hear ‘God of Creation’ and think that Sun God made the world. No. Some other god or gods made the world. Breathed it into being. But then they made a fire to help it thrive. They called that fire the Sun and it looked upon this wonderful place they were born to protect and help guide growth to. And they grew from that. They aren’t always in the Sun anymore. Sometimes but often they are in the Library now. They want people to make art, to feel safe, to invent new machines, to protect, to build wonders and places to grow. And then they want the stories, to hear about your day and all that inspired you. To slowly take that story from you and sew it into itself so that it may have a little bit of you in it always. That’s what I will be eventually. Another patch in the wondrous quilt that is all.” Minty’s gestures were wide and excited as she opened one of the chests and pulled out some food tucked away for travelers. Other things Tea didn’t often touch, even if they did help replenish. “But why if you want to experience the world would you stay inside at night? Why not explore that wonder?” Tea questioned, imagining a world in which they would have never pondered or stared in the Void. “What can I see at night that I cannot see under the Sun?” “The Stars. The quiet. The Void, though that is less seen and more of an existence.” “Will you stay with me to experience it? I would like to take the story back for Sun God.” “Of course.”

And so they waited. Tending to the plants around the Soup Shrine, cleaning the windows and sanding over the area that would make someone believe that there ever was a door. Because now this Soup Shrine never had a door. After all if it had a door it couldn’t fulfill it’s purpose of being a Soup Shrine for Tea. And then Dusk arrived. Minty’s fur was puffing up a little in fear trying to smooth it back down with thin hands. Their antennae upright and terrified. Then the stars started to show. No moon tonight, Tea noted but that was fine because there was so many stars. Filling the sky and telling stories that no one could hear, unless they knew the language and where to listen. But there was another light a soft glow coming just from Tea’s right. Turning they saw Minty looking up at the stars in the wonder, experiencing the night sky for the first time in her entire life. And that tail that always looked so strange and hallow in it’s white exoskeleton was glowing a soft green. Just a little before fading and starting again. Minty hadn’t even noticed this change but Tea was delighted to learn this new fact about their friend. Nudging them gently they gestured to the tail. Minty’s eye stared at their own tail as if they had never seen this before. A new wonder to add to the Library.

[littlespace-imagines]

Broken Dreams pt.10

Warning

Pairing: Cg!Jason the Toymaker × little reader

Contains: very dark, abusive themes, forced

Littlespace, kidnapping, toxic cg/| dynamic, unhealthy relationships, humiliation as punishment, time confusion

*This is very different from my regular stories on this account, please exercise caution*

**Ageregression and Littlespace will never be sexualized on this blog**

Your head pounded

Your mouth was dry

You opened your eyes, the world around you was blurry and disoriented, it wasn't long before your eyes finally focused,

You were in a fucking cell.

You stood up and peered between the bars of the cell you were confined in, the room outside of the cell was very tidy and neat, there was dark red walls and a big bed with black blankets on it aswell as a dresser and vanity, the cell was in direct eyesight of the bed. You looked around inside the cage and your heart sank, there was a sippy cup of water placed next to the small air mattress with (favorite color) blankets on it, there was a few stuffed animals on the bed, there was also a small bookshelf with children's books and coloring books on it, there was also a toy box with all kinds of toys filing it,

"I'm so glad you're awake." The voice of your captor pulls you out of your thoughts, you turn around and lock eyes with him,

"Where am I?" You ask and he rolls his eyes,

"Will you let me finish? You can ask questions when I say you can." He says, you close your mouth and stare at him,

"You answered my questions correctly so I've taken you to be mine." He says nonchalantly, as if he hadn't kidnapped you,

"First things first my name is Jason, but you can call me Daddy, you've obviously had a look around your new room and can understand what our dynamic will entail." He pauses,

"Now you can ask your questions." He stares at you with his arms crossed over his chest, he's leaning against the black bed frame, your head spins as you take in this information but you had to choose your first question wisely,

"Our dynamic? I've never heard of that." You say cautiously, hoping to not piss him off, you're guessing this was the correct thing to ask because he lights up and walks up to only a few feet infront of your cell with a wolfish grin on his face,

"Well you're going to be my little, we have two different dynamics, one that's nonsexual where I take of you, my adorable little love, and the other is a very standard dom and sub dynamic this one will be sexual." He says and you stare at him blankly,

"We're only going to focus on the first one for now, we will discuss rules and other important things here soon." He finishes.

"Okay, wow that's a lot to take in." You say,

"Alrighty, no more questions." He says and you stare at him

"What?! I only got to ask one thing!" You yell at him, his gaze turns icy, his yellow eyes flash blue he waves his hand and the cell opens he walks in and the door shuts behind him,

"I can see that you're already going to try and make this difficult and I will not tolerate that." He says and you both stand there, neither of you daring to move, it's at this moment you finally take in the man's features, he has shaggy long red hair and an almost perfect features, his face is so perfect it's a bit off.

"Well? Are you going to be difficult?" He barked and you flinched in shock

"No, no, I won't I'll be good." You say softly

"Good. I'll let you now now the more you misbehave the more privileges you loose." He says and you look at him confused,

"Privileges?" You ask quietly and he nods another smile creeps its way onto his features, he waved his hand and walked out of the cell, the door closing right behind him you follow him with your eyes and watch nervously as he approaches the dresser and opens the top drawer he pulls something out and turns around hiding the object behind his back,

"Tell me, Baby, have you noticed you're not wearing the same clothes I brought you here with?" He says and you look down at your body to see that you're now dressed in a pair of baby pink footie pajamas, you look back up at him in horror,

"Unzip it." He says and you shake your head no,

"Are you disobeying your daddy?" He says and tears fill your eyes, he's going to make you take your clothes off,

"I'm waiting, if you make me wait any longer I'm going to punish you." He says and you start unzipping the pajamas as tears fall down your face, once the pajamas are completely unzipped you finally gain the courage to look at the red haired man to see that he was now standing inches away from you, he used one hand to push the pajamas off your shoulders revealing your torso, you let out a sigh of relief once you saw you were still wearing your underwear.

"You see these?" He asks, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, you feel blush spread across your face as you nod, not breaking eye contact with the tall man infront of you,

"These are a privilege, if you don't behave I'll have no choice but to put you in this." He says as he pulls a diaper from behind his back, you stare at it with a grimace on your face, you can feel your embarrassment deepen, you can already feel shame despite the fact he's just holding the object.

"Look at that, I think maybe you'll behave after all." He coos at you, he softly caresses your cheek with a wicked grin on his face.

[ill-written-god]

T | 809 | m/nb? human/the thing haunting his house | prequel to 'haunted'

Ed has been flat-hunting for the past two weeks daily. His brain was slowly becoming a blur of doors, walls, and smiling realtors. Every day he would see at least one place but none of them met his requirements, and if it did, it always had some hidden payments or repairs he couldn't afford. 

So when he was looking at another one on Friday - a one-story house in an old suburb neighbourhood - he didn’t have much hope of moving out of his mother’s flat. It was small, but still too big for his budget. Especially, when the realtor told him it had a huge cellar beneath, great for storing wine or preserves, as they said. 

He stepped in prepared to find water damage, leaky pipes, and drafty windows. When he found none, he asked about the price and looked twice at the paperwork. The realtor, a tired young man, waited patiently in an armchair as he searched over and over again for hidden expenses. 

“What’s wrong with this house?” he asked eventually, but as the man opened his mouth to answer, he raised his hand to stop him. "And don’t say nothing, there must be a reason why a place this cheap hasn't been rented yet.”

The man sighs. 

"Honestly? I don't know. It’s in good condition, all vital repairs have been done, and yet, the price keeps falling. People say they don't like ‘the vibe’,” he scowled, quotation marks in the air.

Ed looks around once again, at the fairly inconspicuous walls and necessities. 

"I don't feel any ’vibes’ here.” 

The man shrugs. 

"Me neither. Are you interested?"

Tentatively, Ed nodded.

"I think so? But I'm worried about… the vibes."

"Tell you what,” the man reaches into his pockets. "I’ll give you the keys, you can spend the night here, look around more, find whatever is wrong with the place. I'll be back in the afternoon, maybe you’ll have an answer for me then," he says, offering him the keys. 

Ed took them, stunned. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, just don’t tell my supervisors,” he winked. “Lock the doors when you leave and don’t break anything.”

“Of course,” he nods, watching the man stand up and put on his jacket.

“See you tomorrow then?” he extends his hand. 

“I’ll have your answer,” he promises, shaking on it.

*

He made multiple trips that day. First, he grabbed his son to give him a tour. He didn't get any bad vibes from the house either, and his kid’s approval was important in a decision that big. Then he drove him back to his grandmother, grabbing a sleeping bag to spend the night. Maybe whatever was creeping potential tenants out, was coming out after dark.

The neighborhood didn’t look any different than any other when the sun set. The trees loomed over the road, but not unwelcomingly. They wrapped around the fence like a dark green embrace.

The house was quiet and his steps echoed through the empty walls. Still normal.

He put his makeshift camp upstairs, where his bedroom would be, on an empty bed frame. After settling there, he took his flashlight and toured the house once again, shining light in every smallest nook and cranny, looking for anything that might have scared off potential tenants.

His last step was the cellar, which held the laundry room and wine shelves. There was also an old couch, which was probably too much of a hassle to carry up the stairs during renovations. He trails his light across the walls, layered with stones. In the corner hung a motion-operated light - now off, since the power was shut until a new person moves in. The ceiling was low, but due to the amount of open space, it didn’t feel constricting.

He sat down on the couch, surprisingly bouncy despite its age, and imagined a low table for card games, maybe a crate of beers next to the wine shelves. It would make a nice hang-out spot. 

His flashlight flickered, so he hit it against his palm a couple of times. The light steadied for a second, before completely going out.

“Fuck", he muttered to no one but the darkness. He now had to climb his way up guided by touch alone. He sighed, falling against the couch before the inevitable trip up the stairs.

Somebody sat down next to him.

He knew it wasn’t possible, but that's what his brain was telling him, his sixth sense on high alert. He looked to the side, but still saw nothing but the dark. He reached out.

Just air. 

But despite feeling and seeing nothing, his brain kept screaming at him that he had company. He stood up abruptly, determined to leave as fast as the lack of visibility would allow.

Something, unmistakable despite its absurdity, grabbed his ass. He ran up the stairs, trippin on the steps.

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

One In a Million Chapter 1: Hello New Friend

TW: bad family life (mention of being disowned)

Chapt 2 here

"Hello, New Friend. Where have you been all my life?"

Also: If you've read my Dark Angel of the Bullet Club series, please note that the Emery in THIS fic is a completely different person and is in no way connected to Dark Angel. TY.

(divider)

May 23, 2019 – Paradise, Nevada – 2 Days Before Double or Nothing

Emery stared dejectedly through the glass, as if her sad eyes would make the candy fall from its stuck position. She had already tried shaking the heavy machine, and hitting the glass but to no avail.

“Go effin figure,” she sighed, turning around and walking to the opposite wall 6 feet away. She spun around slowly and slid down the wall, sitting in a heap on the floor with her knees tucked against her chest.

“I get disowned for following my dream… then the airport loses my luggage… a taxi splashes me with street water… the hotel loses my reservation… and now this,” she thought, tears pricking at the corners of her brown eyes. Emery stared unseeingly at the package of MSMs, swallowing the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t.

Emery had no idea how long she sat there, staring at the vending machine. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see people passing by down the halls. She could hear people both inside the hotel and outside in the hot Las Vegas sun. The shower of rain that transpired only two hours ago long since dried up.

“Was this a mistake?” Emery began to wonder,” Ever since I was little… watching people like Jeff and Matt Hardy, Lita… Eddie Guerrero… Rey Mysterio… wrestling was all I ever wanted to do. I saved up money to put myself in classes… to learn… I’ve been on independents… I’ve improved… But my parents… they don’t care… They want me to be like my brother… my sister… A lawyer, doctor or a teacher. Something that is important… but this is important… to me…”

She was so lost in her train of thought, she didn’t notice the man walking down the hall, slow down and come to a stop as he stared at the vending machine for a second. He looked across the hall from the machine to her, and back again.

“Need a hand?” he asked, slightly timidly.

“Hmm?” She questioned, coming out of her trance, noticing his presence,” Oh… No. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Emery sighed,” I’ve tried. I think fate is trying to tell me I’m making a huge mistake because my luck has been total shit today.”

The young-looking man seemed to take in her appearance, glancing at the candy bar stuck between the glass and the pushers, before giving a determined huff.

“Then you definitely need this.”

Without hesitation, he slammed his whole entire body against the machine, causing Emery to look at him, wide-eyed.

“No—really! It’s okay—”

Again, he slammed his smaller frame against the machine, almost like he didn’t hear her.

“Really- I don’t want you to hurt yourself—"

“C’mon you stupid machine! Drop the fucking candy!” he growled, completely ignoring Emery as he slammed himself against the glass pane one more time. A small thud came from the machine as the brown bag of MNMs finally fell to the bottom. Emery watched as he bent down and retrieved them, then walked over and held them out for her to take, a shy smile on his face.

“Here.”

“Thank you,” she smiled back, truly grateful,” Do you like MNMs? I’ll share them with you, as thanks.”

“Don’t worry about—”

“No, really. Please?”

“Uh… okay. Sure. Thanks,” he nodded, sitting down beside her as she tore open the package and dumped some into his hand,” I’m Marko, by the way.”

“Hmm? Oh! Right—sorry. I’m Emery.”

“Really pretty name,” Marko said, before ducking his head with a blush, chewing the chocolate bits.

“Thanks,” she replied, a soft smile on her face. Maybe something was finally going good? Maybe her luck wasn’t as shit as she thought.

“Are you from around here?” Emery asked him, causing him to look back up at her.

“Nah, I’m from Mississippi. You?”

“Tennessee.”

“Get out! What part?”

“Union City, on the north border. You?”

“Olive Branch, on the north border. Just before you reach Tennessee, actually.”

“I think I’ve heard the name before, actually. What brings you to Nevada? If—if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Nah, you’re cool. I’m here for work, actually. I was asked by this wrestling company to do a match for their show—”

“Wait--! Do you mean All Elite?”

“Yeah!” Marko nodded, surprise and excitement radiating off of him,” Are you here to watch the show?”

“Kind of, like… I’m here for it too. I got a call asking if I wanted to do a match on their pre-show before the Live one.”

“Woah—wait. You wrestle?!” The excitement building between the two of them was growing. They now sat facing each other instead of side by side. Emery’s shit luck is long forgotten. Marko’s worry about his foot injury, and not being ready to wrestle tonight has long been forgotten.

“Yeah! You too?”

Emery gave a nod,” Yeah. I… I tried out for WWE last year but they turned me down, which is okay… but now…”

Now I have no family…

“What’s wrong?” Marko asked, noticing her instant mood change.

“It’s… it’s nothing…” An awkward silence broke out between the two, until Marko suddenly stood up, extending her his hand.

“Come on!”

“W-where are we going?” Emery asked, sliding her hand into his as he effortlessly pulled her up to her feet and began leading her down the hall.

“To the casino floor!”

“C-can you legally gamble?”

Marko stopped short and turned around to face her.

“I’m 22 years old.”

“R-really?”

“Yes,” Marko frowned.

“You get that a lot, don’t you? Because of the baby-face thing?”

“More because of my height, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m so short, so I must be a kid.”

“I’m sorry,” Emery apologized, causing Marko to look at her curiously.

“Why?”

“It sounds like it gets annoying… tiring… having people constantly pick at you because of that.”

“I mean… yeah. It can be… I try not to let it, but…”

They stood there, hands still locked together, silence falling between them again.

“So… what were we gonna do then?” She attempted to change the subject.

“Oh! Right!” Marko smiled, as he picked back up by leading her through the halls, through the casino. Eventually, they stopped and Marko looked over at her.

“I’ve found that almost all of these casinos have game rooms! Come on! I bet you I’ll beat you at every game here!”

At least my card still works.

“You’re on!” Emery accepted, scrunching her nose playfully.

This… this was going to be a beautiful friendship.

[petalmadness]

The Last Straw.

Warnings: Angst, breakup, cheating, hurt/no comfort.

Overview: You finally realise your worth and leave him.

Characters: Kaeya, Childe.

Pronouns: No specified pronouns <3

Note: This is for those of you who didn't like the ending to my "Forgetting about you" Scenario. I like this one a lot better as well.

Kaeya:

"Kaeya where the fuck do you think you're going?" You screamed after the man as he made his way to the front door.

"Hopefully far away from you!" He yelled back, slamming the door behind him, the impact shaking the entire house.

You screamed in frustration, knocking over an old picture frame that sat on your kitchen counter.

This pattern that you both had gotten into was toxic, you knew it was, yet you couldn't seem to pull yourself from it. You loved him...right?

Kaeya got into a habit of ditching you and cancelling on your dates. At first you didn't mind, but after a while it got tiring. Constantly having to remind him of important dates and staying up late waiting for him to get home, became exhausting.

Thats when arguments started. Everyday you both would find something to be mad about, he'd leave in a huff to go to the tavern to get drunk. He'd come home early hours in the morning and you'd take care of him, forgiving him oh so easily.

But now you were tired.

When you arrived at the tavern, you heard the usual bustling of all the drunkards in mondstadt. You sighed before pushing open the door, your eyes locking with a pair of familiar blue ones.

Yours widened as you observed the sight in front of you. Your hands fell to your sides as you dropped the bag in your hands. The thump shunned the entire tavern as they all observed the scene in front of them.

"Y/N hold up-" Kaeya scrambled to get the random girl off of his lap, his body sluggish from all the drinks he had.

"Ya know what Alberich, I always knew you a piece of shit, but I had no idea you were this much of a fucking pussy." You spat out, watching him stumble his way over to you.

"Babe come on-" You cut him off.

"Take another step and I will knock your fucking lights out." You put your hand up to warn him, watching him stop immediately and look at you with pleading eyes.

"Y/N come on I'm sorry! Baby, you gotta forgive me." He pleaded, his hands falling to his sides as he struggled to keep his balance steady.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing he wasn't worth your tears. You blinked back the tears and looked up at the bartender behind him.

"Diluc, would you mind walking me back home? I gotta pack my shit up before this prick sobers up." You saw the red head nod, motioning for Charles to take over as he pushed passed his brother.

"Have fun Alberich." You placed a picture in his hands, gently shoving him back when he tried to hold you. The momentum knocked him onto his ass due to how intoxicated he was.

"Thanks for nothing." You glared down at him before leaving with Diluc trailing close behind, shooting a glare at his brother before the door slammed shut.

Kaeya looked down at the picture in his hands and saw that it was a portrait of the two of you, smiling and holding each other.

Kaeya let out sobs, his hands coming up to cover his eyes as the patrons looked down at him with pity.

"You were asking for it Kaeya, its a shock you didn't get kicked to the curb earlier." The nun sipped on her drink, ignoring the pleading cries of the man behind her.

Childe:

You stomped into your home, slamming the door behind you as you shoved your coat off. It was late and you were soaked from the rain as you walked through your empty house.

After getting stood up for the millionth time by your so called "lover", you asked one of his agents to deliver him a not so kind message.

You were sick of being stood up on dates, being left in the middle of some of them just because he was needed for his job, being pushed to the side because he didn't have time and being ignored whenever he was home.

You stared down at the ring that sat on your finger. It was a promise ring that he had given you after your first year together. You cherished the ring more than anything, it was proof of a love that once was.

But now it meant nothing to you.

He meant nothing to you.

You took the ring of and left it on his bedside table, along with the bracelet he gave you.

Violently shoving clothes into your bag, you left not a trace of yourself behind, letting tears fall freely as you made your way to the door.

Looking back into the house one last time, you huffed before slamming the door shut and leaving it all behind.

Once Childe got the news of you leaving, he rushed to finish his work before he made his way home quickly.

He searched the whole house, but only found those two pieces of jewellery you had left behind purposefully for him to find.

His world fell apart as he desperately searched for you, only to come up empty handed.

It was his fault you were gone, and he now had to pay for it.

Note: This is unedited.

[tomsparkyr]

𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

summary: but when he saw you fall from his grasp, he could not bare to lose you again.

masterlist part one, part two.

peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: finally a happy (??) ending, little angst, redemption and peter finally gets the girl </3

the bold in the third half of peter means the past chapter/past scene current peter is watching :)

part three to: gone and forgotten + slipping through his fingers.

don’t steal any of my work, thanks!

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐃 been eating Peter Parker alive for the past 6 months. It has been 182 days without you, Y/N. 182 days since Peter had last ever willingly spoken to someone.

You’re all that’s on his mind.

His head is constantly flooded with the thought of you. Only you. His mind will not focus on anything but the moment he lost you, the moment he lost everything important. What was there to live for if you weren’t here?

He hasn’t tried to move on, he couldn’t. The only people supporting him were his friends and Peter began to believe they were going to grow bored of him. Because everything he loves, he loses.

That’s why he went on that stupid school trip in the first place, to take his mind off everything that had the slightest relation to you. But no, things still go to shit even when he believes he’s hit rock bottom. The one time he trusted someone out of your friendship group since you; decided to stab him in the fucking back and frame him for killing the asshole by saving everyones lives.

Thanks for the great fucking trip, Midtown!

So that’s how he’s here, stood infront of an middle aged man with four robotic arms as a look alike for an octopus.

“Do you know a Peter Parker that is Spiderman?” Dr Strange questioned, pointed to the boy holding a possible permanent face full of confusion as his weight shifted from foot to foot, staring down the intruder he had never heard nor seen of before.

Dr Octopus looked intently at the so called ‘Peter Parker’ and nodded his head, “Yes.” eyes still trained on the boy infront of him.

“Is that him?” Strange raised his voice, now putting the pieces together. Dr Octopus shook his head, “No.”

Peter stared between the two quizzically, unsure on how to comprehend whether he was offended that another Peter Parker was known more than him or the fact that another Peter Parker actually exists?

“Oh, God.” Strange sighed, rubbing his temples furiously as he walked hastily from the scene. Peter wasting no time on following the Sorcerer. Speeding up his pace, he noticed the stress rolling off Steven as the man had turned to face the Spiderman from previous facing his back to him.

Swallowing all his worries, Peter spoke “Can you please explain what is going on?” Pain strung through his voice. Ever since that night he failed, he is and will always be on edge. Afraid to get something wrong. Because the last time he was wrong, he lost his world.

Strange lifted his head up to Peter. “After I shut that spell down, we started getting visitors for every universe.”

Peter heart stopped. “The multiverse is real?” He gasped. An entire separate universe existed exactly like his. Exactly like his?

“When you say multiverse, do you mean another versions of people have different fates than one’s supposedly in here?” Peter said barely above a whisper. Dr Strange’s face turned hard, teeth gritted and shaking his head.

“I know what you’re thinking, Parker.” He walked up to him, slowly lowering his hands onto his shoulders. “But she’s gone.” He spoke sternly, slightly brushing against his shoulder before he gave him a sympathetic look.

Peter stood stationary in his space, head not following Strange as he walked off. A frown itching its way onto his face as tears swelled in his beautiful eyes, sniffles held back as he thought about her. It felt as if something was lodged in his throat about to spill out sobs at a simple mention of your once existing presence.

After seeing a so-called ‘Dr Octopus’, Peter wondered what other villains his doppelgänger’s must have fought. Strange had mentioned a Lizard like human thing? One who was previously his dad’s friend/co-worker who didn’t have an arm, then attempting to create a cure for this and somehow turning himself into a Lizard and trying to turn everyone else into one too. Sounds like a damn good movie to Peter.

His mind wondered into more depth of superhero business, then to stumble onto the teeth gritting question. Would he be back? Would the man who took everything away from him and everyone who loved her be back to tear his heart into two again? He only wished he would. To watch the man he hated with every bone in his body grow weaker under his fingertips.

Peter didn’t realise how long he was standing there until Dr Strange tapped him on the shoulder, telling him to follow his lead immediately.

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𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 the odd box, twisting it reluctantly as the last thing he would want to do is break Dr Strange’s property.

“Care to explain what this actually is?” Peter exclaimed as he waved the object in the air slightly causing Strange to cringe.

“No time for that.” Steven walked up face to face with the boy, “This son of a bitch won’t come to you…” He stared intensely into Peter’s brown eyes, now holding onto the box with him.

“So you’re gonna go to him” He said before pushing the box harshly into Peter’s chest caused him to completely float from his vision.

Peter’s body flung back to his surprise and within a millisecond on strobe coloured lights, he landed unexpectedly on a further away electric tower. Landing on his face, Peter groaned loudly unaware of where the hell had Strange forced him to and who he was referring to.

That was until he saw three clear figures in the distance.

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“𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄! 𝐈’𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 just take me! Anything to let her go!” Peter bargained. He didn’t care what happened to him now because as long as he knew you were safe, he’d be okay even if it meant him sacrificing all he has.

Goblin chuckled in your direction hearing the boy that still loved you scream in desperation at your demise. “Looks like he hasn’t forgotten you.” He taunted in your face, grinning at the fear creased into your precious face. Your bottom lip quivered, “Please.” you whispered feeling the blood ooze from your cut forming from your eyebrow to your cheekbone.

Osborn’s laughter stopped at you sudden words, having not spoken since he had caught you in the first place. Your words of retaliation made all the fun he had experienced so far stop, you had finally given up with his actions as he had become bored of toying with you in an instant.

As his smile dropped, so did you.

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 Peter realised where he was. For the second time in his life he saw your life flash before your eyes as your body dropped.

Peter’s feet moved itself as he flung himself towards the scene, watching his past self cling onto your body to soften your landing after smashing through layers of glass. He watched Goblin fly inwards to where past you two currently lay, current Peter ready to intervene.

His feet landed unsteadily on the smashed platform, stumbling on his own feet and perching over the edge to watch himself be kicked square in the chest and seeing your frail body hang from his web he knew would snap within a matter of minutes.

Lunging himself, Peter attempted to get to your body before your fate repeated itself. That was until past Peter and Goblin flew into him, blissfully unaware as another presence was the least of their problems as they watched you dangle far from the ground.

This sent Peter flying back, hitting his spine hardly on a pole attached to the clockwork which was holding you up right now. The reaction of his hit sent him falling flat on his face afterwards, coming face to face with your body slipping away from reality as the web snapped under the pressure of going cogs.

Peter forced himself off the edge, following your lead downwards to watch he wished you would experience together, whether that was good or bad.

What broke Peter most was to watch your sweet face screw up in acceptance. He had to watch you know your fate before his past self had even recognised you had fallen. Your beautiful features looked so broken. How could he let you think these things without his past selves attention devoted on your outcome before him-selves.

What felt like slo-motion, Peter reached his hand out to yours. Faring away, he webbed yours to his.

He did what he couldn’t do last time.

Your body jolted only inches away from the floor you didn’t miss last time.

He could see your face drop in shock, eyebrows upturned and mouth slightly ajar, letting out heavy panting before Peter dropped and coming face to face with you.

A sob racked through your body as you stared into the cut out eyes of Spiderman. Shaking your head and ripping off his mask to caress his pale face. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He brushed your fallen hair out of your face as your fingers tangled into his messy hair from the lack of space in the mask. Your head buried itself into the crook of his neck as the two bodies became one as both of you sobbed in each others presence.

Peter clung on, knowing this was the last time he would ever see you.

He couldn’t bring you back to his universe as much as he wished.

Peter would just have to forever live with the fact that you may be gone in his universe, but he can always remember he got you as much as it breaks his heart and crushes it into a million pieces. And another version of himself can live the life with you he will forever envy for as long as he lives.

Just remember Peter, you got the girl.



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IM SOBBING IM SO SORRY BUT THAT THE END IMS SKSKSOS SORRYRUSK

tags (let me know if wanted to be removed!)

@tom-softie

@i-have-a-basic-taste-in-men

@awesomebooklover17

@badass-yn

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[stickytrigger69]

Eyyy can i get me some of tfp Racthet getting ”forcefully” dragged away form his work by a bot s/o into cuddles on the berth? (Bonus points if he crumpy as hell about it :3)

TFP Ratchet x GN Cybertronian Reader

Reader is gender neutral and I will use the term bot instead of mech/femme.

Ratchet will be grumpy of course.

I hope you like it.

I fucking love this man so much.

Readers frame type, paint job, and height is all unspecified.

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

He's been standing at that terminal for so long now it's making your pedes ache. You of course always try to help him around the base when you're not out there with the others patrolling or what have you so he's not over exerting himself. He always tells you you have a bad habit of just getting in the way but you know that he knows you just want to help. When you tell him he needs a rest or to drink some energon or even just go out for a while on a drive while you take over for a bit he always gives you the same look. Before he would scold you and tell you that he needs to do the work and no one else or that it's important the he does it to make sure it's done right.

You had convinced him once or twice to step away but he just hovered over your shoulder, always glued to your backside to make sure you're doing it right. You'd scoff at him and tell him you have it under control, he always nudges you out of the way anyways saying the way you do it takes longer. It's always funny looking to the others because you'll be standing there doing Ratchets work and he'll just slowly start moving his servos over and doing it with you while you make room for him and then after a bit he's finally taken over and you're watching him with his energon in your hand. You always look so defeated in those moments, you slouch over a bit and your optic ridges are turned upward in concern, "can you at least drink your energon?" He takes it from you, cugs it, hands it back, then waves you off. "Thank you now let me get back to my work" you nod and walk away, he glances at you making your way down the hall to the berthrooms, he knows you'll come back later to try that same thing again, either to just stretch out or go take a small recharge break or even so he can do something else other than stand there staring at the screen.

And you did, you went back but before you said anything at all he held out some tools and stared at you with his usual poker face. You're confused, you were going to try to get him to go for a drive/flight with you so you guys could talk or just relax. You look at the tools then back at his faceplate, your optics look right into his with unspoken questions, you two haven't bonded yet so you couldn't send telepathic messages just yet but he understood anyway. "The ground Bridge needs repairs, the platform needs to be recalibrate to match the mapping in the controls, can you lend me a servo?" You smile and take the tools, "of course sweetspark." You turn around and head over to the ground bridge port. There's a small space to it's left where you can get to lower ground to open its panels to do the recalibration, it's a small step but for the humans it was a good 15 steps down.

"Wait right there!" You stop turning the small nob inside the panel "that's perfect, now the next one" you move your digits over to the next, it's not a twisty nob though. It's a small sliding one, 'I hate these stupid things' you start to move it upwards, "nope you're making it worse" you quickly move it down wards then slow down. These ones are much more touchy that the twisty ones, you very slowly very carefully move it down the small number scale the humans had equipped it with, 1 to 12 at the top, zero in the middle, and -1 to -12 at the bottom. You get somewhere between -9 and -10 when Ratchet tells you to stop, "That's it, now the next" there were 7 twist nobs and 4 sliders. 'This is going to take foreveeeeerrrrrr!' You groan internally and exvent deeply, your servo slowly begins to move the next slider upwards.

Ratchet doesn't say anything this time so you keep going, " There! Wait wait go back a bit," you stop and slowly tap it back downwards when he talks again "Right there don't. Move!" Your optics are wide and you hold your digits away from the panel. A small green wire flicks with a spark and you start to worry, "Wait Ratch" you grab some electrical tape and wrap it around the part of the wire that sparked. "How are the energy readings?" He turns to look at you, "they're fine, why? Is something wrong?" "One of the wires sparked a little, it's okay though, I patched it." He huffs and turns to the controls again, the calibration should be complete soon then he can get back to fixing that other thing and making sure everyone rests. Hmm, maybe he can continue his research on that synthetic energon, it would be amazing to have another source, especially if it could be made so easily and with earths resources. You start moving the third slider up and Ratchet quickly tells you to stop what you're doing, you backtrack it again and it's starts stabilizing.

After you finish putting the last slider into its place you go back to Ratchet and hand him his tools as he tests out the bridge. "Fully functional, no problems, thank the allspark. And thank you" he says with a smile on his face as he takes his tools back, "you should go and recharge, I've still got work to do" with that he turns around to face the monitors. Your optics stare holes into his helm as you just stand there, face blank, it's the same blank face that scared Bee and Bulkhead after they pulled a prank on you that involved paint, it wasn't even a good color either. Before he could ask you if you needed anything you grabbed his arm and started pulling him with you towards the hallway. He immediately started complaining and fighting with you, he pulled at your grasp, you moved your servos to grab his upper arms as you mad a 360 spin.

He was now in front of you walking backwards shouting at you, "(Y/N) cut it out, I have work to do!! Let go!" You didn't, "No, I'm not recharging by myself again. And you need the rest too, don't deny it" he stops and thinks, "but my work-" "can wait". You finally push him into the door of your shared berth room, he's mad, really mad but you don't fragging care he is resting with you and he is going to like it. The door opens and you lift him up and hold him close to your chassis, your helm under his chin as you sit on the edge of the large berth. He always wondered why you liked holding him like this, but, it always made him feel good about himself, feel more like himself too. He doesn't recharge or refuel much so these moments always makes him forget about it, reminds him that you love him so much.

You turn and lay you both down, you're both on your sides facing eachother, "I know you don't want to stop working but you haven't recharged in 4 solar cycles" he smiles at you, 'Still uses cybertron time' he caresses your cheek. Your smaller/larger frame hums, "No I don't, but," he stops to think, his processor is starting to slow, he's so tired. He takes in your features, he's so glad that you've both made it so far, glad that you're here taking care of him like this, glad you still love him the way you did during the golden age, glad that when he needs it the most you make him feel better. With your stupid tactics and ugly face, he chuckles a little and you pull him closer into you, your frames hum and rumble against eachother, the warmth of your engines filling the air around your berth making him feel so calm. You place your foreheads together as you stare lovingly into his optics, "don't wake up grumpy" you smile as his fades and he turns around putting his back to you.

You laugh lightly and rest your chin on his shoulder looking at him, you've scooted closer and your servo is on his side. "Awww Ratch, please, I'm sorry" he says nothing and closes his optics "but, Ratch, I love you" he could really care less, you ruined it. You pulled him into your spot and laid in front of him. You scooted down so your helm could rest against his chest and pulled his arm and leg over his side, his optics opened and he gave you a look. You stared up at him apologetically and quickly pecked a kiss to his derma, he closed his eyes and rested his chin against the tip of your helm and held you closer.

You smile and rest your face against his chassis, your arm thrown around him servo holding onto a part of his shoulder. You held him like he would dissappear, because you know damn well he will, especially after the bullslag you had just said. But he held you just as close, you listened to his engine purr, you could listen to it for eternity, if it was the only sound to fill your audials for the rest of your life you would be content. Ratchets servo slowly pet at your back, digits running against your smooth (p/c) paint, tracing small creases and transformation seams. He was happy here, his spark was full of love for you, he has no idea what he'd do without you and you him.

He finally fell into recharge and you were close to it when Arcee commed you, you didn't want to deal with it and told her you and Ratchet needed to recharge. She just said oh, okay and before she could say anything else you switched off your com-link and put your arm back around Ratchet. Your smile returned as you snuggled your helm to his chassis and let out a deep content exvent, "my dear sweetspark" you whispered.

[joshuaalbert]

ok here are my liveblog notes.

- girl we didn’t have to come out of the gate with “every important person in the series is the child of an older character.”

- this show literally thinks you’re stupid (note from like 7 hours later: i think this was about picard needing to explicitly explain that the ships were linked and moving into formation which like. no shit.)

- “if earth falls everything falls” yeah man fuck every other planet in the federation I guess

- I like this cook guy at least

- “jack is in there and he’s still jack” yeah the guy you know so well after like a week

- oh I guess picard is actually doing something for the first time this entire season instead of just. reacting to other people saying stuff to him. took long enough.

- geordi could be literally anyone please god give this man some technobabble or something. glad he gets to sit in the captain’s chair tho I know that was big for levar burton in tng

- oh nice deanna gets to be upset about riker rather than doing anything again. classic. worf you are the only one holding the line against white boy wednesday on a thursday.

- weren’t they just having a super hard time isolating his life signs the fuck

- well at least raffi and seven get to talk to each other 😐

- I mean the cook’s not wrong that it’s objectively stupid as hell to try to fight the entire fucking fleet alone but ok

- yeah wow the zombie movie imagery here. lm fucking ao.

- oh beverly did weapons so she’s good character now. this season’s entire philosophy.

- “planetary shields are down” yeah its almost like the stupidest plan of all time didn’t help but also nobody except picard is allowed to do anything so I guess this was to be expected. cant really blame her for this one i guess.

- except like. hey remember when seven became the most specialest person on all of voy and took over the entire show because she kept finding the solutions to problems and shit. lmao.

- like this moment of picard deciding to go back to the borg would have been powerful if we hadn’t been beating this dead horse for this many decades or if there was any actual sense of threat or. anything.

- “you are the part of me that I never knew was missing” yeah man “having biological children is the only key to a fulfilling life” is really progressive

- like this should be a really touching moment but there’s just. not enough chemistry here to make it work all these flashbacks are so surface level and take place in a week and you’re telling me this is enough

- like I’m a sucker for the power of love saves the day if it’s done well I won’t pretend I’m not but like. holy shit this aint it.

- oh shit deanna actually gets to do something what a fucking world

- “the time of the borg is over” god I wish but I’m sure they’ll keep finding a way to bring them back forever

- all those touching goodbyes might have been better if it ever felt like they were gonna have the guts to kill anyone off

- aw ok. seven hugging sidney was cute.

- NOT THIS AVENGERS ASS GIRLPOWER SHOT LIKE THEY ACTUALLY GOT TO DO ANYTHING. why are they nodding. what publicity fuckery.

- none of this felt earned. they were in the borg cube for like 15 minutes.

- hey uh I do not like this technology that “scans for other irregularities” that feels. bad.

- ok I’m glad tuvok is ok glad you got out of the bullshit alive

- oh yeah ok we’re just gonna frame starfleet as everyone’s happy ending. ok.

- no like remember back during uhhh whatever episode ro laren was in where it seemed like they might be actually critiquing starfleet some. what was the point of that if they were just gonna be like haha never mind starfleet is good for everyone it’s a place everyone needs to be to be happy.

- shaw knowing he was doing something wrong by calling her hansen doesn’t help actually and it definitely doesn’t help that he sounds like he’s about to start complaining about how hard it is to remember all these newfangled pronouns

- like I know I haven’t watched the first two seasons I’m not super familiar with raffi’s family stuff but this feels like a copout lmao

- the fact that they acknowledged ds9 continuity with “house of martok” but still managed to go the whole season not mentioning jadzia or alexander or anything is so. like.

- ok worf and raffi continue to be the best dynamic in this fucking show like they’re the only ones I actually feel anything for

- haha I love how they almost made deanna good at her job and then were like actually she and riker make fun of her patient

- my computer is buffering at the 1 year later mark I think it’s trying to save me

- “if ever there was better evidence that the past mattered” no please hammer the message of this season home harder

- why was that scene a year later have they just been standing there for a year. actually I guess it’s the only place in the whole world that’s lit well so maybe I’d stand there for a year too everyone probably has seasonal depression from being on the titan.

- oh my god

- oh myg od

- they. they fucking put him in red too. it wasn’t enough to be like yeah his happy ending is starfleet no it has to be the fucking command track he has to take after his father because god forbid he take after his mother to do something he was shown to be good at

- I hope I die for real actually.

- on one hand i feel like that nepotism line was a direct shot at wesley except they’re also doing the same thing but worse. so like ????? are they just trying to lampshade what they’re doing now it’s not fucking working.

- I’m going to fucking explode everyone forever

- the titan being renamed to the fucking enterprise is like. the perfect encapsulation of this show’s mentality. you can almost go forward a tiny bit (have new ship that is important) but then you HAVE to go back to the way things were (jk it’s the enterprise because that’s the only ship that can ever be important)

- stop namedropping your goddamn....it’s not even a planet now it’s a whole system. shut the fuck UP.

- yeah this is really professional. this is a functioning vessel. jack shut the hell up.

- what the fuck is this.

- isn’t this the same gag they used in the snw s2 trailer I haven’t actually watched it but I feel like I’ve seen a gifset

- jack shut up

- wow they really just didn’t want to have to make a decision on this. or they’re setting up the sequel. either way I hate being alive

- why did we even have a plot to this episode when they clearly just wanted to do the nostalgia world tour. I guess that explains why all the borg shit wrapped up so quickly they never actually wanted to do the plot. on one hand the plot was bad on the other hand watching 15 consecutive victory laps is also bad.

- this show is bad

- I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be someone who liked the first two seasons or cared about the bonds picard made with literally anyone else this is such a fuck you to all of that. hey remember laris. because even despite not watching the first two seasons I remember that she was in the first episode. but I know the show counts on you being too stupid to remember that anyway.

- ok I feel like that’s clearly just a premiere photo so that’s kind of funny

- jesus fuck

- let this man die

- there are literally tears in my eyes and not in a good way stop trying to set up a spinoff I’m so fucking tired

- everyone who hated wesley for being a mary sue had better hate jack that’s an order

🫥