#Abandoned houses are abandoned for a reason

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Jax Jackson Jackrabbit, The Mischievous Trickster Automaton!

Jax's character description:

A sly delinquent and a cunning one at that, Jax proves Caine's point of view wrong once he comes into the picture: no, they are most definitely NOT the only Puppets left sane after the apocalypse. Although, how he managed to survive whilst being such a massive jerk is a miracle in on itself.

Jax first revealed himself near the entrance of the abandoned theater house that held the supposed next target of the Harlequin, taunting and coldly throwing insults that did not slip past Pomni.

Although a formidable opponent, Jax's well-tempered facade falls through once he realizes that he had fallen into a predicament that he can't escape out of; especially when a certain fuming harlequin keeps rising out of her grave no matter how much he's sure he's buried her six feet down the ground for good.

After his defeat (and temporary death), he was then brought back to the manor to be reassembled back together, to which he had decided --much to the vexation of the residents there-- that he might be looking at becoming a permanent vermin on their lawn; and whether it was out of selfish amusement or something else is entirely up to debate.

Fun facts about Jax:

He still most definitely hates corn.

His limbs can stretch up to 10-13 feet, and can move as if there were no joints, resembling a cartoon.

His head is also strangely, gyroscopic.

He has his favorite "names" for each manor resident.

With how much he switches up his insults at everyone, most of them have not noticed this.

He actually has a rat as a "little buddy". Said rat is usually found in the pantry, or Gangle's room, as if placed there purposefully.

Huge ego. Helps hide the massive insecurities lurking underneath.

His hammer's ribbon comes from one of Gangle's. He claims the red gives the impression of the blood of his enemies, and wanted it as an aesthetic.

Yeah, he gave Gangle her name here too.

He doesn't like to admit it, but he actually likes to rile people up because of their reactions.

He holds possession of Caine's universal key.

How he managed to obtain it is unknown, nor if the Puppetmaster is exactly aware that it's gone missing.

He likes to stare at the night sky, and doing it while on high rooftops.

Jax likes (and equally hates) Z's vibes a lot.

Whether he's conscious of it or not, he has a habit of making "nests" out of stuff he's "borrowed".

A little teddy bear hangs on his belt. When asked about it, he ignores the question and flicks the asker's forehead for no reason.

He is still majorly the reason why Gangle's mask occasionally breaks.

Jax doesn't like Kingr all that much because he doesn't get the reaction he wants out of him.

He also doesn't like Caine all that much either. Thinks he's a massive party pooper.

Ever since Jax came into the picture, Ragatha's calm persona started to falter, and the phonograph was moved from the lounge to her room instead.

He only comes to "help" in the missions when his mood feels like it. Or, if he gets something out of it.

He doesn't like to outright admit it, but the more automatons became introduced to the manor, the less... lonely he felt.

Quotes:

Coming soon! sorry :)

[kabr0ztrousers]

Bull hybrid cowboy x chubby fem reader. He runs a little ranch all by himself no one for miles and her car just so happens to break down near his road. He offers her a ride into town but ends up kidnapping her. Would love it if he ties her up and shows her all the reasons why she should stay with him.

Hmm... Now do I write another hucow scene or don't I? Only kidding, you all know where this is going.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 34: Free Range

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: kidnap; dubcon; noncon; lactation; impregnation;

A/N: Thanks again for the steady stream of requests, you lot! Remember if you want to see something, want me to revisit a kink or scenario I've done before, or have a totally new idea, let me know and it'll probably happen!

######################################

You loved that little shitbox of a car, mid 2000's spec, old enough to drink and still going strong. Up until about 5 miles back. You were on a tiny country road in the middle of the night, cruising at 60, when you heard an almighty bang followed by a jangling noise. Your revs went through the roof for a moment before you started to coast. By the time you stopped and inspected the damage you'd already figured out what happened. The jaunty angle of the gearstick and the lack of any resistance on it meant your gears were probably strewn across several hundred metres of road. At least your engine still worked so you had light, heat, and BBC 2.

You didn't, however have any phone signal.

So you sat in the layby in your car, idling the engine to keep the battery running and listening to the 80s. Sleeping in a running car seems like something that's probably illegal, but you figured if the police found you, they could probably give you a tow to go with the fine. Hopefully you'd make it to morning and then walk however far the nearest town is to call your insurance.

A horn behind you shocked you out of your thoughts. You looked around as a rugged 4x4 pulled level with you. A window rolled down and the driver motioned for you to do the same.

He was a bull hybrid, horns wreathing his head, a thick gold ring adorning his nose. "Need a tow?"

"Yeah, I think my gearbox is fucked" you smiled at him

"That'll do it for you, I can get you to town if you want, climb in"

You got out of your car and into his, grateful for the save. He hooked a rope from his car to yours and pulled away, your stricken vehicle in tow.

You didn't think anything of the route he took, country lanes are far too narrow to turn around in, especially in a big vehicle like this one, but you'd been travelling for a while. It's not like he wasn't charming, softly spoken with just a hint of an accent, apparently he had a herd of dairy cattle that he pastured around the area, and you were being regaled about the trade. The radio in the car gently playing some tiny local station or other, predominantly focusing on spinning old records and talking about the weather.

Suspicion set in when you turned off the road, he was taking you up a gravel track in the pitch-dark. He seemed to know the area pretty well but you figured that to get to civilization, you should probably be following the asphalt rather than abandoning it.

He pulled up at a house and turned off the engine, shoving the keys into his pocket "Come on, let's get inside"

You got out and bolted away from the house. You're not stupid enough to follow him in, you'd only just met!

He was faster than you. You'd barely made it twenty yards when you were tackled to the ground. The bull huffed as he tied your ankles together and hefted you over his shoulder. You hit and struggled against him, but he only chuckled at your assault. "Spirited, aren't you?" He opened his door and carried you over the threshold "You'll do fine here"

He put you down onto a plush sofa and sat in a chair opposite to you. Minutes passed in silence, you sullenly staring at him, him eyeing you up like a cut of meat.

"What will you do with me?" You spat at him

"Honestly, I'm not sure. You seemed like a soft townie when I picked you up. I'd thought maybe let you call for a tow, give you a coffee, and maybe a roll in the hay." He was still staring at you

"But?" You felt like there was a but coming

"But, you're not badly built, and you're not such a pushover. Now I'm deciding if I want a wife or not"

You recoiled at his comment "If you think I'm marrying you, you can fuck off!"

He shrugged and got up "Plan B then. With hips and tits like those you'll be a good fit"

He lifted you into a seated position and tore off your top, baring your chest and the rolls of your tummy. He grabbed one of your tits and hefted it "Natural, very good"

If looks could kill, you would've atomised him. As it was he merely met your gaze as he roughly inspected you.

"I was right, you'll do excellently" He picked you up again and swung you over his shoulder before carrying you outside. He crossed a field, not caring about your yelling and screaming for help. He knew nobody was around for miles, even if someone heard you they wouldn't be able to help you. He pushed open a barn door and carried you in, putting you down on a pile of straw "I'll see you tomorrow"

He left you there. The ropes were tied tightly around your ankles. You struggled against them until your fingers went numb to no avail. The other occupants of the barn stirred with your struggling. Your eyes were adjusting to the gloom, you could just about make them out.

They were other women. Some cow hybrids, some not. All of them plump, many pregnant. They looked at you with big doe eyes, curiosity on their faces as they regarded you.

The first one put her arms around you in a hug, then another and another until you were smothered in a dozen round women, their full breasts pressing against you as they started to doze off on you. Stuck there in the centre of the cuddle pile, you couldn't help your eyelids getting heavy, your head cushioned against a plush belly as sleep claimed you too.

You woke with the dawn. The other women mooing eagerly and dispersing around the barn. The bull man from last night opened the door and stepped in. He looked over at you before settling to work. One by one he attached milking cups to the other women, who each settled down contentedly as the machines pumped them, the milk being drawn into tanks at one end of the barn.

Finally he got to you.

"Enjoy your night?"

You spat at him. He laughed.

"Damn, I wish you'd reconsider being my wife. As it is, I can still put a calf in you." He lifted you and carried you to a fence, tying your arms to it before cutting your ankles free.

Your tits swung below you as he pulled your hips up and hiked your skirt up. He tore a hole in your tights, revealing your pussy. You screamed as he started to lick you, his thick tongue penetrating you already as he fingered your clit. You felt your skin flush as your body responded to him, getting wet and ready for him. His licking and stroking was drawing you in, until you quivered with a tearful orgasm.

You felt him straighten up behind you. He lay his cock on your back and you shivered with the length of it before he pulled back and started to ease the tip in, crooning as he went "You're doing great, girl, just a little more, a little more"

The sound of his voice was making you wetter than his tongue did. You whimpered from the fullness from his cock pushing slowly into you, stretching you out. Your hips were pushing back against him, sending waves of motion up your body. He started to push harder, move faster. Your whimpers turned to blissful sobs and whines as you sped towards your next orgasm, the length and girth of him getting you off all by itself. When he squeezed your hips it was too much. Your body tried to push back, but it didn't need to. He could feel your impending orgasm and hilted himself in you, tiny thrusts slapping his balls against your clit and driving you over the edge. He started to throb and pulse in you as your cunt clenched around him. His thrusts were fast and deep, he was close and wasn't going to cum anywhere but inside you. His pounding on your cervix was getting to you, as was his gripping your waist and your hips, and the jolting swaying of your tits. He pushed a hand between your legs and circled his fingers over your clit. You came again. This time he joined in. Your moans and grunts mingled as the other women watched you, still mooing in euphoria from being attached to the pumps.

He stayed inside you, his cock still giving occasional pumps of cum. His huge hands tracing patterns on your back and rubbing your aching muscles. Then he pulled out, and you heard a spatter of his cum fall out of you and onto the straw below. He cut your arms free and helped you off the railings, laying you on the straw.

"I treat my ladies well, you'll see"

A month has passed since you joined the herd. You spend your mornings hooked up to the milking machines, your afternoons lounging in the fields munching clover and enjoying the company of your new friends, then in the evenings Aaron, as you leaned his name, would often visit you and put another load in you. You're already late on your period, you just haven't told him yet.

Yeah, you're giving up some freedoms, and you're pretty sure you're getting dumber

But it sure beats your old job

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Postscript: A bit of an experiment in trying to split the difference between "awful human farm" and not being overly horrible to the POV character. Hopefully it hits the mark nicely. Who knows, I may do a continuation or a "what if" where it goes into fluffy marital sex between Aaron and Fem!Reader...

At any rate, this is your periodic reminder that my ask box and DMs are always open, and to not hold back on your requests! I'm not in the habit of airing anyone's dirty laundry so if you do cross some unforeseen line the worst you'll get is a no

[concretejunglefm]

Poltergeists: Chapter 16.

and i found photographs of our school, on the day we met, i thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, i guess.

Summary: It's been a year since your best friend Noah went missing, two years since you moved into the house you abandoned after he went missing from it during the night. This is a recount of events leading up to and what happened after the night he went missing and all of the strange events that occurred during your time living in that house.

Chapters: Masterlist

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader, Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader, possibly more BO members.

CW: Missing person, elements of supernatural horror, mentions of blood and possibly violence, unreliable narrator. will update as it goes on. Heavy trigger warning for mentions of alcohol use, ptsd and panic attacks. This chapter contains mentions of physical self harm and medicating with alcohol and pills. Please take care of yourself.

WC: 2k.

AN: This series will be told throughout a variety of flashbacks and present day, all which will be marked.

Divider: Silent-stories.

Tagged: @enemiestolovershoe, @fadingangelwisp, @geminigirlfromfinland, @littlepeachwhispers, @concreteangel92, @deathblacksmoke, @1toreyouapart, @lacy1986, @chaoticwineaunt, @ichoosetenderomens, @chey-h, @baddestomens, @blade-dressed-in-red, @halfalgorithmhafdeity, @geminigirlfromfinland, @fuck1ng-queen, @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard, @xxkittenkissesxx (if anyone else wishes to be tagged lmk)

FLASHBACK

31 DAYS SINCE NOAH'S DISAPPEARANCE.

"Do you think she intended for this to happen?"

Folio's voice is faint and hushed, barely audible in the distance. Slowly, you're coming to, still feeling the comforting embrace of sleep trying to pull you back into its depths. You have no idea where you are, but the familiar voices of your friends provide a glimmer of comfort and reassurance, letting you know that you're not alone and that you're at least with them.

"You don't think she intended to harm herself?" Folio continues. 

Was he referring to you? You can't recall much from before now, except for crying to Nicholas and-

"No." Nicholas' voice shatters your tired haze, and your chest thumps, trying to jog your memory beyond seeing his face last. "She wouldn't." He speaks with such firmness, as if it's an absolute fact, as if he knows you'd never intentionally harm yourself. But as your eyes finally flutter open, a sharp pain stings your bandaged wrists, and you can't help but question his words.

Perhaps you weren't intentionally trying to harm yourself, but you would have been satisfied if your actions led you back towards Noah.

Noah.

Waking up to the overwhelming wave of his memory, the stark reminder of his absence, sends a surge of grief that engulfs you. Despite your body shaking, all that escapes is a solitary tear, easily concealed by the couch cushion you're laying on

"We can't leave her alone." Matt says, and you realize now that everyone is here. 

Knowing that you've disrupted their lives makes you feel even more pathetic. Nicholas had been trying to help you on his own, and maybe now it was time for him to admit that you needed more than he could ever provide.

"We can all take turns watching her." Jolly suggests.

"She's not a child," Nicholas retorts, but you can hear the hint of defeat in his voice, as if he's at a loss for what else to do.

"You weren't there when she hurt herself. You can't be everywhere at once, no matter how much you want to be." Matt sounds reasonable. If you weren't still drifting in and out of your sleep, allowing the embrace to keep you in place for a moment longer, you'd have agreed while simultaneously arguing that you didn't need a babysitter.

But maybe you do. 

Maybe you needed to leave that house. The longer you stayed, the more peculiar occurrences began to happen, even without Noah's presence.

Especially without him.

"When she wakes up, I'll ask her about staying here. It's best that she isn't alone and in that house. I don't believe being there is good for her."

You hear the soft murmurs of agreement, and instinctively, you curl tighter, fearing that they'll discover you're awake. You don't want them to pity you or ask questions. All you want is to return to the comforting embrace of sleep, to the dream you were in, where you were back with Noah.

60 DAYS SINCE NOAH'S DISAPPEARANCE.

It's been two months since Noah's disappearance, and you feel more lost than ever. 

Just under a month ago, you tried to return to work, not full-time, but enough hours to keep you occupied and return to a familiar routine, only working when Nicholas would be at the shop, ensuring someone was there to make you feel at ease. However, today, you couldn't shake off the overwhelming blanket of guilt and grief that weighed you down, so you called in sick. 

You hadn't returned to the house since you left. Nicholas picked up a few of your belongings, some of which were mixed with Noah's stuff. The unexpected discovery of a shirt of his brought a mix of joy and sadness, especially as the scent of him faded. It only intensified your missing him, knowing that the last remnants of his presence were slipping away. 

What if you forgot the smell of him entirely? What if you forgot the sound of his voice? The way his body felt when pressed against yours? Or the comforting cocoon he created with his arms whenever you cuddled? 

Your brain runs away with all these thoughts and fears about your grief because you can't forget him and you force yourself to spend the day making sure you never do.

Most of your shared memories are in your once shared home, but you have reminders in other ways. Nicholas has many photographs scattered throughout his home, ranging from old concert memories to recent pictures. 

Perched atop his record player is an old photo of you all from school. You all appear so much younger; Noah has a near-Bieber haircut, Nicholas has shorter hair than you could ever imagine him having, and you're squeezed between them. 

There are no signs of the early stages of puberty being kind and transforming you into a miniature version of your favorite star overnight. You all looked different in your own ways, but you always thought he looked beautiful.

Your beautiful boy. 

You recall the first time you laid eyes on him, his imposing height made him almost impossible to miss. As time passed, you began to enjoy the thrill of trying to evade him in the bustling crowds. Despite the sea of bodies, he would effortlessly spot you, and an arm would swiftly scoop you up, anchoring you to his side.

He kept you safe, and in a way, you believe that your presence brought him solace, though he always remained reserved when it came to the thoughts swirling within his mind and the home life he avoided by staying out and spending time at Nicks, or even at your own home.

"He never talks about it does it?" 

You recall asking Nick one day during your walk home from school. You both trailed behind Noah, who had swiftly taken off on a skateboard he had found discarded in the dumpster that morning and spent the afternoon working on in shop class. 

"About home? No."

You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but the thought of Noah not talking to you about something so personal stung a little. You had always thought that your friendship with him had progressed to the point where you could share anything.

Nick must've been able to read you because he swiftly added; "Not even with me, but I know he cares about you."

For some reason that made you blush, you scoffed, trying to hide the smile threatening to break across your face. "Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

From that day forward, you never questioned or doubted anything Noah shared or didn't share with you. You became an inseparable trio, with one person always ahead and the other two trailing behind; a human triangle. No one was left out, except when the three of you living together became just you and Noah.

121 DAYS SINCE NOAH'S DISAPPEARANCE.

You broke down and changed your statement. 

It took you almost three months before the guilt became overwhelming, leading you to confess to Kit that you had been in the room with Noah at the time. While this confession didn't change anything significant, it did make you appear more guilty. Nevertheless, no further action was taken.

Kit became the first person to be aware that there had been a relationship between you and Noah at the time. Even if he did question your reasons for keeping it a secret, he never divulged it past where it needed to go.

You still haven't told Nick. 

You don't know if you ever actually will.

213 DAYS SINCE NOAH'S DISAPPEARANCE.

You've fallen back into old habits, self-medicating your wounds with alcohol and any anti-anxiety medication you can find. You're aware that this isn't a healthy way to cope, but some nights become unbearable, and you convince yourself that a glass or two of Noah's favorite wine will make you drowsy enough to sleep. However, instead of helping you relax, it only leads you to mourn a person who might not even be dead.

In the soft glow of the moonlight, you sway gently from side to side, the soothing melody of an old-time favorite song that you and Noah would often find yourselves dancing to; "I Need My Girl" by The National.

You stand alone in the middle of the living room, dancing to the soft lull of the music, your hand caressing your cheek as silent tears fall. 

This isn't the first time you've found yourself doing this, nor is it the first time you feel Nick's comforting arms envelop you, pulling you against his chest to soothe you. However, it is the first time you share a gentle swaying motion of the dance with him.

Head against Nick's shoulder, you close your eyes and you can pretend to be with Noah. The comforting familiar scent of his shampoo envelops you, filling your senses, aiding to the belief that he's right here with you.

He hasn't left you. 

You didn't cause him to be taken away. 

321 DAYS SINCE NOAH'S DISAPPEARANCE.

The anniversary is approaching, and Noah's face still adorns the missing persons signs scattered throughout town. Most of these signs have either deteriorated due to weathering or been torn down. His face and memory continue to haunt you daily, as you cling to the truth of what transpired, what you can remember happening.

You're trapped in a mindless cycle of grief, unable to move on and unable to mourn the loss of someone whose existence is in limbo. Some days, you convince yourself he's still with you, that you hear him clearly. On others, he feels more distant than ever, and you begin to question whether he was ever truly real.

365 DAYS SINCE NOAH'S DISAPPEARANCE.

Search for missing 23-year-old gone cold.

The front page headline, accompanied by the picture you took of Noah a year ago, taunts you.

Nick pulls your attention back with a reminder not to engage in the speculations that continue to spread throughout the town and your local paper.

He has that familiar look in his eye, the one that tells you he's going to ask you about it again, and you'll have to push through and lie, reciting the script you've become familiar with over the past year.

You've rehearsed it enough now that you know exactly what to say to satisfy his speculations.

PRESENT DAY

(NOAH'S POV)

I try to take in everything Nick tells me, though my mind is overwhelmed. I hadn't anticipated the gaps Bubs had left, which Nick is now filling in. Initially, I felt a surge of anger towards my best friend for not protecting her as he had promised, but that slipped away when I heard a doctor calling for our attention.

"She's awake and she's-" Anything else he says goes unheard as I rush back down the hallway and towards her room from the waiting room where Nick and I had been sitting.

We hadn't anticipated her waking up so quickly, but I convince myself it's because she knows I'm here.

The moment I enter her hospital room, I close the gap between the door and the bed, greeted by Bubs already sitting up and waiting, as if she had been expecting me. She's no longer obstructed by equipment or wires, and it's her who calls out to me first, my own voice silenced by the emotion building in my throat.

"Noah!" Her voice is hoarse and croaky as I sink onto the side of her bed, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her as close as physically possible. Her arms wrap around my neck as we sink into an embrace, whispering her name as if this moment doesn't feel real.

I thought I had lost her at the house, that she had died, but now she was here, in my arms and alive.

All the things Nick and Bubs have told me, all the events that had transpired up until this point, lose their significance. All I care about is her being here with me now.

[princerobotcat]

I live in an area with shelters that are constantly full to capacity or beyond. The TNR community does work to keep the feral cat populations as low as we can without just euthanizing thousands of animals. As someone who does TNR work and has fostered or adopted as many as I can, there are some community cats that just aren’t adoptable but the alternative really is euthanasia. We feed and give medical treatment to the TNRs to keep them from spreading diseases, breeding, or just decimating local wildlife.

I get people hate feral cats and think they should all be adopted out or somehow removed (they mean put down but don’t wanna say it) but let’s be reasonable here, we’re not PETA. I think we do need to focus on people keeping their house cats inside and neutered, though. About half the strays I deal with are ones abandoned by people when they move (I live near a college and the stray cat population spikes whenever a semester ends).

I was looking up tips for baiting cats because I need some help getting the current foster cat comfortable with the carrier, and a place with lots of these articles and tips are TNR sites (Trap Neuter Release)

Now, a term they like to use a lot is “community cats” in reference to strays that are shy but still comfortable coming near humans and are non aggressive, they like to talk about the special role these cats play in their community

Now another name for a community cat, I feel, is a cat that can be rehabilitated and adopted out to a family that will care for it. In fact of the 12 cats I have fostered, including this one, 6 have spent time as strays and after being given medical treatment for the various injuries and illnesses they get living outside, they will live with one of us volunteers for a bit to get used to people and then go to the shelter for further help and then are adopted out. Every cat I have fostered has been adopted and stayed adopted with that family

I get that cats that wander into your yard and let you feed them are cute. My aunt had 4 she fed, a mother and the three kittens that survived. Before the age of 5, two disappeared and were never seen again and one was found dead on her porch after eating something toxic somewhere and then going back to her place to sleep. Only 25% of the neighborhood cats, who had at least one person feeding them daily, survived past 5 years old. They were all TNRed and I bet the younger ones probably could have been rehabbed and adopted when they were caught young but nope they were let back outside and died painful deaths within a few years

Idk just, after fostering so many of that kind of cat and seeing them lose their fear and become very loving and happy and then going to a family, it bugs me when cats that are caught and have the chance to be helped are just put back outside to get hit by cars or die from eating rat poison with the idea that this is truly the best thing for them

[cleelczipsybane]

WLC 5.2: Assassin Vision

Keeping her eyes on the gnome's soul, Jevoi slips out of her cloak and slowly crawls along the ground. She creeps around to the side of the old home.

L: I reckon, ya were still dressing like I had at that age. J: You dressed as a rogue to hide your wizardry; I dressed as one because I was one. We are not the same. L: And the wig? J: It's a good wig; it fits the outfit.

Jevoi spots a broken window, but feels Gank pulling her away. The shattered glass could hurt or, more importantly, make noise.

'Up,' thinks Gank, 'No one ever looks up.'

Unfortunately, Jevoi's boots prevent her from climbing the surface as fast or quietly as she could, so she continues around the house toward the backdoor.

L: And that's why we don't wear shoes, Dalini. J: You can fly, Mum.

Jevoi can see the soul of Tanglepork also approaching the house from the other side. She remains perfectly still, waiting for her target to approach. The ecstasy of an assassin, the eyes of a monster.

G: Rude. Those are my eyes.

Tanglepork slowly enters the open door frame and sneaks into the house with her weapon drawn. Jevoi sneaks in behind her as she enters into another room on a collision course with Luminița.

Carefully, Jevoi draws a knife from her side. It's sleek, sharp blade is etched with a vampiric rune and it's been far too long since she's had a chance to feed it. The black hilt is almost invisible in the dark forest home. Jevoi brings the knife into attack position; her heart beating rapidly, she slips closer to her target.

L: We heard it before: ya wanted to be an assassin. J: If you're going to force me to listen to your tangents about women; you should allow the same for my weapons.

The three women, all ready to strike, were getting dangerously close together. One must wonder who would strike first. None would suspect who it would be.

As Tanglepork enters the room Luminița hides in, Jevoi lunges for her. The lycan leaps out of her position at the gnome, who attempts to fire her gun, but her aim is thrown off by the floor collapsing beneath her. The other two fall in immediately after.

[mohntilyet]

despite not feeling like illario should be a parent or mentor figure to absolutely anyone at all. and of course lots of media has done "unhappy mentor to a young child that ends up getting attached". but have we all considered the idea of illario finding a fledgling that's been tossed aside or had their house stripped from them, sees his failure reflected back at him . right . and before he knows what he's doing and against his better judgement and his arrogance and his pride, illario brings them into house dellamorte. to start it's just to piss off caterina. give it about a month and he'll start projecting his own desire to succeed and since he can't rise above his own humiliation then this fledgling HAS to. and then he gets attached. and then during particularly gruelling and horrible crow training, illario reminds himself of caterina. right then and there he would have to decide if he can stomach turning into her, or if he can finally begin to understand the unconditional love that lucanis has always felt towards him

[beneathsilverstars]

if i failed to protect my kid during the apocalypse and they almost died wandering on their own but got rescued by a team of four competent, battle-experienced adults who cared about them very much and made them feel less scared and useless but refused to let them fight, i think that would be a pretty decent outcome and i'd be pretty okay with it. sure i could dream up a better situation but there's a hell of a lot of worse ones too.

[tenderjock]

BUFFY BROKE UP THE COVEN (but make it gay) ->

in which DARLA is the vampire cursed with a soul who falls in love with the slayer; and DRUSILLA is the monster who remakes herself in order to earn a chance at buffy summers' love.

insp | insp

[thebeigelunatics]

i do actually wonder what plan lamb had in mind by not letting standish resign. every time a new letter appeared, he probably farted on it and chucked it in the bin. but why? (we all know why!) but in his mind, what did he expect would happen? he couldn't have predicted river's parent-trapping/david cartwright needing a babysitter. so did he just expect standish to get fed up and come to slough house to berate him? and then what? did he imagine if he kept rejecting her letters that the park would force a meeting between them to resolve the matter? lamb really behaved like a married man refusing to sign his divorce papers. my dude, STAND UP.

[batcavescolony]

I was talking to an idiot and I need validation.

[anna-scribbles]

in honor me turning twenty three, i give you: some old original notes about twenty three year old adrien from thirteen<3

[lord-squiggletits]

Having late night angst Pharma thoughts and I think besides wanting to write a scene where Pharma lashes out in anger, and scenes where he does his crazy evil doctor persona to keep pretending he doesn't care, I also do want that scenario to eventually include peeling Pharma open emotionally somehow to get him to actually say his real emotions with no pretense

I'm not sure what scenario would lead to that or what would be an in character way for Pharma to express his grievances. Out of all the things he's angry/upset about which one hurts the most? Getting betrayed by Ratchet? None of the other Autobots caring about him either? Being made to murder people and possibly never getting to be a doctor again as a result?

Canon focuses mostly on the thing with Ratchet but I do think a Pharma centric scenario should delve deeper. After all even if Pharma is in love with Ratchet, it's boring and bad writing if EVERYTHING revolves around Ratchet and Pharma doesn't have thoughts/feelings about other things

So again, idk how it would be voiced in character or what scenario could lead to it, but I'd like to somehow see Pharma stripped down to the actual agonizing hurt and grief that you could read into his actions like.....

Ratchet left him alone to go to Delphi, then abandoned him again after Delphi and didn't even bother looking for his body after presuming him dead. If that's how Ratchet treated him after a lifetime of friendship, did he ever actually care about Pharma?

Is it any wonder that all the other Autobots left him for dead and treated him like a monster if not even Pharma's own best friend cared about him or was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt?

If Ratchet tries to patch things up, is he doing it because he actually cares or just to assuage his own guilty conscience? If he said he was sorry, would Pharma believe it/would it make him feel any better, or is it too little too late?

Why is it that Pharma's endless fate is to be left alone, facing down torture and coercion, alone, with no one who's his friend and barely anyone who even thinks he's tolerable/doesn't outright hate him?

(In a post-LL/Pharma doesn't die scenario) What is it about Pharma that makes him so despicable but people (especially Ratchet) are willing to tolerate and even befriend people like Drift or Megatron who did things as bad or worse? (No hate to them this is just a 'what if' angle of Pharma coming into this scenario)

Bc on one hand not giving a shit and being arrogant are valid parts of Pharma's character, but on the other hand there's a good amount of canon evidence implying that Pharma wasn't always Like That and even evidence that his crazy doctor thing was an act he was putting on. So why not write something about Pharma getting to voice insecurity, loneliness, betrayal, etc?

[gracecarstairss]

thinking about how Mayesh is the mirror for the Ashkar people - being human in the eyes of House Aurelian means that they think all Ashkar are human. He protects them all in this way, ensuring that the Sault will be safe and that what happened in Malgasi (murdering all Ashkar) will not happen in Castellane.

this also applies to Kel, in a way. Kel is the person Conor loves/cares for above all others, yet he is a common citizen of Castellane - technically, the lowest possible class, since Kel is an orphan without a significant name, and family names are the most important source of power in Castellane. therefore, Kel is the mirror for the common people of Castellane - although he is considered an object/property in the eyes of nearly all of House Aurelian, being human in the eyes of Conor, the person who will one day be King, shows the future ruler that the people he rules are actual PEOPLE, not just subjects to use and manipulate to the ruler's liking. in this way, Kel protects the commoners of Castellane, which is so interesting. we see him do this multiple times in Sword Catcher when he is trying to instill empathy in Conor for others, including Lin (when Kel talks sense into Conor and and says "do you want her to be afraid of you?" which really hits Conor hard because he doesn't realize the full scope of his power and the fact that he uses it carelessly).

and what makes this more insane is the way that Mayesh doesn't even see Kel as a human, just an object, even though they serve similar important purposes for their respective classes. on my third read of Sword Catcher, I really honed in on the way that Mayesh treats Kel, and he really does not treat him as a damn human being!!! it's so awful. the hypocrisy of Mayesh is so wild, he is such an interesting character because of all his contradictions. anyways i'm so unwell about this!!!

[skunkes]

the bad: i have been raised without much warmth from my parents in childhood, but also pressured to conform to familial authority, doubt myself always, and value familial connections above all else (<- failed at this, and feel guilt about it.)

but also in experiencing this i have been so isolated from the entire rest of the world and others, that it will be nearly impossible to create my own "family" -> find safety and comfort in anybody else once my family is Gone. despite dis i find it really difficult to break away from the familiar, disobey and disappoint, because, well, why are my wishes more important than anybody else's. why would I cause upset and distress in anybody, and exert so much effort into my doubt filled half decisions, for my meaningless little Wishes. being away would also mean less time with these people who I'll never see again once they're gone. being raised this way is definitely paying off for those who did so.

the good: yaaaay adjacent inspiration for writing talon lore

[thevioletcaptain]

I know the ask is about ships but could you make a non ship one with Dean and Carlos from the Winchesters? I can't think of an exact thing for Dean to say, but the first sentence can be what Dean would say for their first meeting. Thank you if you can (*^‿^*)

"I like your hair," Dean says, staring up from where he's clinging to the bottom of Mary's winter coat, and Carlos grins wide when he adds, with all the breathless gravity of a four year old eager to impress their opinions upon a new friend; "It's swooshy and it's pretty like Mommy's hair, and your-- your beads are pretty and shiny and shiny is my favorite color."

"Swooshy and pretty and shiny is exactly what I was going for, so thank you, little buddy."

Even with almost six years between now and the last time he'd seen Mary, Carlos is relieved to find that they still have a good sense of one-another -- can still communicate silently, swiftly, like they used to when it was life or death. He meets her eye, and her face softens, and understanding passes between them before he slides one of his lucky beaded bracelets -- the bloodstone one -- free.

Dean's eyes light up when he takes it.

When he smiles, he looks just like his mother.

[for this askbox game if anyone else wants to send me a prompt]

[rustchild]

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