#Credit Repair Leads

[pingcall-getlead]

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[digitalsanshta]

best credit repair

best credit repair

In order to embark on a successful journey towards best credit repair it's crucial to comprehend your credit report. Obtain a copy from major credit bureaus and carefully review it to identify inaccuracies, late payments, or any discrepancies that may be negatively impacting your score.

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In conclusion, best credit repair is an attainable goal with the right strategy and commitment. By understanding your credit report, implementing a thoughtful plan, and adopting responsible financial habits, you can gradually rebuild your credit and pave the way for a brighter financial future.

[tax8907]

student debt live transfers

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[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.3k - boothill finds you digging around in junk and then offers you a gift he hopes you won't refuse... [plsdontflopplsdontflopplsdont-]

the heavy metal clinking of boothill's foot steps clank their way to your shop's door. an all too familiar door he'd always find himself going up to whenever he was in need of repair- big or small. the swiveling security camera you keep at your entrance blinks with red-lit life and moves to start following his movements as soon as he enters it's field of vision.

who knows if you're ever actually paying attention to the camera feed or not though. you can be careless like that. sometimes you're just out- couldn't be bothered or could care less about the remote feed linked directly to your phone. other times, you're so focused on some project you neglect it entirely.

based on the sign hanging on your shop's door he was familiar with- it seemed that this time in particular you were out.

boothill didn't need to know how to write- much less read well- to take a wild gander as to where you had wondered off to. putting his spring loaded and metal jointed hands on his slim waist, his chin dips with an amused chuckle and shake of his head. the cowboy lifts the toe of his mechanical boot and twists his body fully 'round; his spurs scrapping across the ground during his lazy about-face. with one foot in front of the other and thumbs hooked through the hollow crops of his trousers, the galaxy ranger makes his way towards the junk yard.

it would never occur to the standard person to spend their free time digging around a scrap yard filled with junk thrown out for a reason- but you were anything but standard. if you weren't tinkering around in your shop or finishing up a repair or commission, you were scrounging around the grounds for material or 'hidden treasure'... which was key for just slightly more valuable junk.

a typical haul for you would be a few pieces of scrap metal you could use for wielding, the rare unstripped screw or loose gaggle of bolts, and all sorts of wire. if it saved you a few credits by finding material instead of buying them, you weren't one to argue with free trash.

passing under the wire-metal gate leading into the fenced-off territory, his thumbs still tucked into his pant legs, his ears stay sharp. listening for any sound of you digging around in some heap while his head swivels back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of you.

"ey, sugar, you around!" boothill shouts, one of his hands detaching from his hips to cup around his mouth. he wanders further in, gets more ground, before calling out the same sentence a second time. shaking his head in bewilderment on how far in you had gone digging, he goes even further still and tries calling out a third time.

"here!" you finally answer back. your voice echoes around him, bouncing off the scrap metal and spooking the rats and other critters that call the junk yard home. his head turns in the direction of your voice, the way his body leans towards it before his feet start carrying him that way never took notice in his own mind.

eventually, he makes it to you. squat down to the ground, under the rusty remains of some poor saps long eroded escape pod from whatever solar system they crashed in from. he crosses his arms, then his ankles, leaning his metal shoulder on the ruined dome you were digging under.

the ranger had no idea how long you had been out here, but judging by the half full bag you kept on your shoulder and the grease sticking to your neck and exposed skin he could guess it's been a bit. he chuckles when you dig out a rusted, broken pipe of... something, before tossing it over your shoulder with a disappointed click of your tongue and looking up at him. your cheeks had some gunk on it too, probably from you wiping the back of your gloves on it.

"fancy diggin' around in junk?"

"it's not all junk."

"the fudge it aint," he scoffs. to him, it absolutely was all junk. "this aint called the dang junk yard for nothin, sugar."

"it's a scrap yard."

"stubborn-bottom." you move to stand up, clapping your gloved hands together before taking them off so you could use your hands more freely. "good to see ya took my advice and startin' wearing some forkin' gloves around here." he eyes around at all the rust and sharp metal. "gonna get tetanus or somethin', and we can't have that."

"im liable to get tetanus from you before anything else," you joke so straight-faced it didn't feel like a joke. his crossed arms drop along with his jaw and his stance straightens as he uncrosses his ankles.

"ey', i aint as forkin' filthy as you pretend i am, and you know it." you shrug with a half smirk that was so dismissive he was tempted to keep arguing. you push the goggles you were wearing over your eyes to avoid getting anything in them and possible irritation onto your forehead. seeing the contrast between your sweaty, grease and dirt marked skin and the clean skin that was protected under the goggles had him scoff. "yer filthier than i am, by the look of things."

you roll your eyes and move to climb out of the rusty treasure trove of junk you had deemed no longer having anything of value. reaching out, boothill offers you his hand. you take it easily as he starts pulling you up and out to stand in front of him. your hand drops from his when you stand safely in his bubble, and he isn't sure if you know how close you are or not.

your nose is always so focused in tinkering around or messing with work that you can't always... read the room so to speak. its endearing, until it gets frustrating anyway.

"so, what're you here for this time? need something fixed again- i swear if you already burned through that new servo i replaced a month ago, im going to take off your arm and you won't get it back for a week."

"well, that's awful sweet of you." you knew by his dry tone and sneered lips that exposed his sharp teeth that the word sweet was definitely supposed to be a different five-letter word starting with 's'. one that his broken beacon (which you refuse to fix out of entertainment) wouldn't allow him to say.

"seems like an appropriate consequence to me, considering i don't charge you for repairs."

"i ain't here for not goose-dud repair," he hisses. "i had planned on givin' ya somethin', but based on your sweet attitude i aint so sure about it now."

"you brought me something?" he nods. "from a different solar planet?" he could see the curiosity start to ignite in your eyes. he nods again. you stuff your gloves into a pouch in your pants that he swears you've sewed another pocket into, before you're marching away from him and towards the entrance he had marched from at the beginning of this search. "well come on, let's get a moving!" you shout over your shoulder.

his synthetic voice chuckles at your back. eagerly waltzing after you.

boothill soon finds himself sitting with his knees apart and comfortably lounging with his arms on the back of your worn-down, two-cushioned couch the moment you two got back to the shop. he had taken himself to your quote- reception room, as he waited for you to unload your finds from the junkyard (meaning you just took your bag, flipped it upside and let its content spill out unceremoniously onto your worktable before you would eventually sort through it at a later time).

the tapping of his metal toes against your floor echoed dully against the rug under the sofa as you soon made your way to stand in front of him, hands on your hips and an expectant look in your eyes. flicking the brim of his hat cheekily to get a better look up at you, he lifted his chin.

"my attention is yours," you dramatically sigh, hands flaring to your sides before bouncing back against your legs.

"im flattered, sugar," he jests back. still, he shifts. the small pouch he had strung to his belt that was home to his array of extra fire rounds was soon detached from him. the string of which was used to tie it to him previously, hangs lazily from his metal fingertips. with a raised, semi-skeptical brow, you carefully take it off his hands.

"if this is some sort of prank," you warn. his hands raise in the air with his elbows still resting comfortably on the back of the cushions he was leaning against, gesturing that he meant no harm.

slowly- cautiously- you pull open the bag and remove two different items that had been nestled safely inside.

tossing the now empty bag onto the couch next to boothill's leg, you took each item into one hand and looked between them. one was a small crystal that was no larger than the center of your palm. shining a swirling color of green and blue, you could only imagine that it would look even prettier properly polished and with a light shining behind it. in the other was a small box, one that could be opened with a rusty lid. giving it a small rattle revealed something to be inside. doing so revealed a small robot that had been covered in rust, missing a robotic arm and wires spilling out from under the cracked and broken screen that would most definitely have acted as it's face.

"what's all this?" you ask softly. boothill stands from his lackadaisical lounging on your sofa to come and waltz up to your side. he pointed at the robot sitting sadly in the container he had brought him in first.

"i found this lil fella and thought you'd have a gas fixin' him right up. as for that," he points to the crystal of dual-swirling shades next, "accordin' to my scanners, that there's a pretty dadgum power source." boothill takes the small crystal from your palm and hovers it just above the robot. "it suits him, don't it?" he chuckles.

in truth, the slightly dingy looking crystal shard was too magnificent compared to the busted and rusted robot. but, with a bit of work, repair and love, perhaps the color of the crystal really would look nice against polished sheet metal.

"i figure givin' you somethin' else to tinker with would be more... enriching than just your usual forkin' machines." and it could keep you company, but he didn't say that out loud.

when you would get it working like he knew you could, maybe you'd stop and think about him while he was away chasing his reality out as a galaxy ranger. if you could just spare a single thought towards him every day because of a small robot and shiny rock? he'd be tickled pink.

"he's cute," you whisper gently and boothill wonders if you know you said it out loud at all. he chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup the designed dents atop his cowboy hat. taking it off his head, he gently drops it onto yours, gaining your attention back from the gifts he had given you.

the way you lift your eyes to look at him- filled with something akin to excitement and fondness- and gently cradle the small rusty robot with his hat now shadowing your face, he could almost hear the wires in his chest running on turbo. he'd had to cool down asap before he overheated or crashed.

taking a step back- for his own sake- he leaves his hat on your head before patting your back.

"get to it," he softly tells you. you mutely nod, an excited smile breaking out over your lips as you trot towards a different room. it was a small private work space you retreated to for personal projects. boothill was one that was usually allowed inside since this room was where he would get his tune ups most times.

with boothill following your back, he watches you trot to your work bench. you gently set the robot's box down and remove it from inside. the crystal you submerged in a bowl that you soon fill with polish to let it soak. it took all of ten minutes before you're surrounded by tools and wires and equipment made for digital repairs. all the while boothill remade his comfort in a worn-down rocker you kept in the corner, content on staying put until he was forced to leave. whether it by your or by his next bounty.

he couldn't very well leave you with his hat either, even if it looked better on you than him.

the next time boothill comes into your shop after that gift drop off, it wasn't a visit but a proper repair. running out of cooling agent for his internal hardware was just waiting for a disaster to happen. his synthetic-coded laugh burst into the room jollily as when he sat down on the stool he always planted his ass in for repairs, a small, shiny robot- with the cutest digital expressions and a small blue-green swirling crystal placed in the center of its chest- was waddling across your work bench. a vile of blue cooling agent the near size of his small metal body grasped tightly in its robotic arms.

it chirped happily with a digital reverb when you thank it for bringing the coolant over.

boothill was indeed tickled as pink could get seeing you already attached to the lil fella. he wondered what you named it.

a/n: smol robot go beep-boop (i love the idea of mechanic!reader just having a cute lil guy to follow them around like a puppy :(( [big thanks to @/birinboom and my partner for letting me pick their brain on what gifts boothill ended up giving to the reader bc i had no idea lol smooches <3]

[raepliica]

(content warning: blood)

Sewed Up Heart

[ID: A Trigun comic done in grayscale with red accents. First, an anatomical heart gushes blood, forming a puddle which shifts into Vash's coat. Vash's gloved hands can be seen sewing up a tear at the hem.

Vash raises his hands, which are now bare and covered in blood. He looks sweaty and distressed, and he raises his coat to his face and cries into it. His clenched hands rip the sewed portion apart, and the red thread leads to a heart whose own stitches are tearing apart. The background gets darker and darker, and the red looks brighter and starker against it.

Then the background returns to white, and brown-skinned hands using embroidery scissors snip a red thread. Wolfwood holds up Vash's repaired coat, grinning proudly, and does a happy thumbs-up in Vash's direction. Vash lifts his head, seeming distant.

Wolfwood holds out the coat. As Vash puts out his hand to take it, the cloth is replaced so Wolfwood is dropping a sewed-up heart in Vash's hand. Vash rubs the coat against his face with a teary smile. End ID] ID CREDITS

[eyebagshawty]

Did you get a request? It's Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav for Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor. Thanks!

Headcanons + Blurbs for Being Taken Care of/Washed by Tav (Part 2)

A/N: Every picture is from Pinterest (y’all are artists I swear!), as well as the ones in part one. If you recognize one that is yours, please let me know and I will credit you.

Characters: Dammon, Rolan, Zevlor

Part 1

Dammon

• You and Dammon had been flirty ever since meeting in the grove

• At Last Light, you finally get the courage to offer washing up with him in hopes you might become something more than good friends

• When you ask, he genuinely thinks you’re pranking him

• Like genuinely

• “Very funny, Tav. Now did you need something??”

• “Dammon, I’m serious. You’re telling me a little massage wouldn’t be a great gift for repairing Karlach’s heart?” You motion your fingers in the shape of a heart with a cheeky grin plastered on your face

• When he realizes you aren’t kidding, the wine he’s been sipping spews onto the ground

• His blush is furious, his eyes are like saucers, and his mouth is clamped shut

• “That would…. That would be nice,” he mumbles shyly, “Just tell me when and where and I’ll meet you.” His fingers brush against yours and he’s SO SHY as he walks back to the bar

You draw a bath in the massive tub in the private room Jaheira let you stay in. You hear a curt knock at the door, and tighten your robe. “Astarion I swear if you want food after so clearly declining earlier I swea-“. As you open the door ready to give the vampire spawn a piece of your mind, you’re met face to face with Dammon, who is sporting a very bewildered expression. Your face goes beet red and your mouth promptly closes.

He gives a light chuckle at the embarrassment on your face. “Just finished up work for the day, who knew so many harpers break their weapons so often?” You step to the side and to let him in, and he looks at your surroundings; your laid out armor and evening clothes, your journal that sits on the bedside table, and the long sword he’d gifted you (he really was down bad, he thought to himself) after you’d defeated the goblin camp.

When he looks back over to you, you’re already submerged in the hot water, looking shyly his way. Without a word passing through both of your lips, but an entire conversation being passed through eyes, he slowly undresses as you watch. The tension could be cut with a knife. He slides into the tub, and you take his hand in yours. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, Dammon… ever since this tadpole debacle started.”

His tail involuntarily flicks to wrap around your waist, his eyes widening as he tightens his grip on your hand. “I feel the same, I never thought my time in Avernus would lead me to you,” he whispers as he leans closer to you, his lips hovering over yours. Just when they’re about to meet, you smile teasingly and move away, grabbing the provided soap and tenderly scrubbing around his horns. He moans softly as he brings you closer to him, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Darling… is this okay? With you?” His voice is breathy as you continue to wash and work out soap in his hair.

“Of course it is,” you whisper back, and you press a soft peck to his lips. He instantly melts as you continue to scrub soap into his shoulders and back, kissing your arms, your chest, anywhere he can reach.

Rolan

• You and Rolan had already been together at the tiefling party, so his face morphs into a smug smirk when you offer to wash up with him at Last Light

• “Well, future hero of Baldur’s Gate, back for more?” His tail wraps around your calf and you shoot him a playful glare as your cheeks burn and your heart flutters

• Karlach and Shadowheart are just grinning smugly from across the room, and you try to ignore it but his tail yanks your leg a bit, and you stumble into his arms

• “Trip over something, hero?”

• You swat at his chest, “Wouldn’t you like to know wizard boy, go find an orb to ponder,” you huff out

• He squeezes your cheeks together and chuckles, “Give me ten minutes, darling. I’ll be there.” And with that you promptly run away to Shadowheart and Karlach who bombard you with questions

As you wait in your room, the bath filled with hot water and the scent of rose oil lingering in the air, you think about the time you’d spent with Rolan over the course of your journey. Complimenting him on his apprenticeship after convincing him to stay in the grove, having sex at the celebration after defeating the goblins, and how he’d insulted you when Cal and Lia went missing. You’d say your relationship with him was complicated — you didn’t even know if he liked you really.

With a sharp knock on your door you bolted up and answered. “Hello princess, the most talented wizard of this generation is hence at your service.” You chuckled at his cockiness.

“Hello to you too Rolan, come in, please.” As you stepped aside to let him in, he placed his hand on your hip to move by, his lips surprisingly close to yours as his tail swished back and forth. He looked down to your lips, back to your eyes, and kept walking. He immediately stripped down his robes, only to laugh at your beet red face.

“What’s the matter hero? You’ve seen me before,” he laughed. However, you could see an inkling of softness in his eyes and a small blush darkening his cheeks. You roll your eyes and begin to remove your medium armor. Rolan sees you struggling a bit and comes up behind you, pressing your back against him as he undoes the clasps. The room is quiet, but boy oh boy if your heart isn’t SINGING. You both sink into the tub, and you begin to lather soap into his horns. He moans softly as you continue scrubbing into the base of his horns, gathering water into a pitcher and washing soap away. “I’m sorry about everything I said when you first got here, darling.”

Your motions pause but a moment in surprise, but you continue with the performance of nonchalance, rubbing soap across his shoulders and chest. “Oh yeah?” As you reach to scrub at his back, his hand grabs your wrist and he kisses it.

“Yes. I was out of line out of fear and you didn’t deserve it. I… care about you.” You give him a beaming smile and throw your arms around him, the water sloshing around and onto the floor. He kisses the crown of your head, rubbing his hands across your back. “That’s a mess I am not cleaning up, by the way.”

Zevlor

• You offer to wash up with him at the celebration after defeating the goblin camp, and like Dammon, he also thinks you’re messing with him

• “You’re drunk, little one. You did wonderfully and I’m so proud, but you definitely need your rest.” He places his hand on your lower back to steady you, looking anywhere but into your eyes

• You put your hand on his chest and giggle, “Sorry I just… wanted to get to know you better,” you keep drunkenly laughing and like,,, the man thinks he might combust when he realizes you’re dead serious

• Your eyes widen when his tail unconsciously wraps around your thigh, squeezing lightly in eager affection

• IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE THIS MAN HAS FELT WANTED PLEAAASSEEE

• He leans down and whispers softly into your ear, “Meet me at the river once the party has died down, my dear.” And with one last squeeze his tail pulls away and he walks back into the crowd flustered as all hells

When the campfire is snuffed out and most people are off in their own bedrolls or having huddled conversations, you make your way to the shore. You dig your feet into the soft sand and remove your evening clothes, letting your hair fall free from its practical braid. You make your way into the water, submerging your head and sighing with relief. When you look back to the shore you see Zevlor, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging in awe.

You give him a warm smile and beckon him towards you. He grins shyly in return, his tail flicking wildly behind him in excitement that he tries to suppress. He removes his armor and strides into the water towards you. He gathers you so that you’re floating in his lap, and ohmygod he’s nervous. You kiss his cheeks and get to work on his horns and his hair, his tail involuntarily wrapping affectionately and protectively around your waist.

“I can’t tell you how thankful I am darling… not many people are willing to help us infernal creatures,” he whispers, but he spits out the word infernal bitterly. You stroke his cheek tenderly with your thumb.

“Don’t say stuff like that. You deserved our help through and through, and I wanted to help you. Whatever my companions thought be damned,” you whisper back, “How hard is it for you to see that I care for you?” You kiss his temple and hover so that your lips are ghosting over his. He lets out a quiet sob, tears streaming down his face at your kindness. He eagerly presses his lips to yours, his hands grabbing anywhere they can touch. You kneed your fingers into his hair and moan softly. When you pull away he whines, his tail squeezing around your waist.

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheeks once more and continue rubbing soap into his warm skin, brushing away each of his tears as you work.

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Four- Cooperation

Summary- Cregan Stark has a proposition and Aemond struggles with the lord’s arrival.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Grief. Talks of treason. Angst cuz I literally can’t stop. Semi public sex. Also private sex. There's a lot of sex. Mild breeding kink. Praise kink. Jizz?? Dry humping. Discussion of dead babies and children. And Alys cuz apparently she needs her own warning now. Cockwarming.

Author’s Note- sorry this took longer than usual it’s end of semester and I am a shell of my former self lmao. Anyway this is once again debatably too long (10.2k) and the full chapter is linked below as usual :)

series masterlist

It takes a few more days than she had hoped before she is able to speak with Cregan Stark. It seems as though the council had been saving the true work for after the coronation and now they refuse to allow a day to pass without attempting to fix one issue or another. She learns very quickly that even with a council to do the heavy lifting, Aegon had done next to nothing in his six months on the throne, the realm still in shambles from the civil war that has destroyed it.

The Riverlands burnt and all but decimated due to Aemond and Vhagar. The Ironborn raiding every village, port, and town they can reach despite more than one letter arriving in Pyke demanding an end to it. All the great houses still at odds over their differing allegiances. Cregan Stark still thirsty for blood in order to avenge her mother and fulfill his promise to his men. King’s Landing only repaired with half measures after the revolt in the city and less than a quarter of the repairs underway. The list seemed never ending and by the end of each day, she finds a headache sitting heavy behind her eyes, so deep she can’t even attempt to massage the pain away.

To his credit, Aemond takes it upon himself to begin rebuilding the Riverlands himself, taking the initiative to lead the restoration. She has Corlys send word to Alyn Velaryon and command him to sail to Pyke with some of Velaryon fleet with the hopes that conversation and some bribing will be enough to stop Dalton Greyjoy from his raids. Lord Tyland informs them of just how much of the crown’s coffers he had spirited away and begins rationing what can be spared to begin repairing the city. Lord Larys assures them that the hunt for Aegon’s murderer is still well underway, though he has little to show for it.

It is Cregan Stark that is left to her. Handsome, bloodthirsty Cregan Stark. Where he had cast a glare upon almost everyone when he had arrived for the coronation, he had smiled at her, had been friendly and chivalrous. Though Aemond had vehemently disagreed, the council had all but unanimously decided that she was to charm him and turn him toward peace or, barring that, some acceptance of who was now ruling. She does not mind the task, already having planned to speak to the man and not prepared to be usurped less than sennight on the throne, so she agrees and leaves the council chamber with Aemond staring daggers into her back.

She is even more glad for the task as she sits on a bench in the gardens, eyes closed and face tilted up toward the sun as she waits for Lord Stark’s arrival. It feels as though it has been an age since she had the chance to simply be and in this moment, the sun warm and the air sweet with the smell of flowers, she feels completely and totally at peace. It is a strange feeling to have when worry and panic have been all she seemed capable of feeling as of late, but she will take it as it comes. She would rather feel this than the latter and she plans to enjoy it for as long as she is able.

A throat clears and she opens her eyes to see Cregan Stark standing before her, a servant at his side. The girl bows her head to them both before scurrying off as quick as she came and she stands from the bench with a smile.

“Lord Stark. I apologize for the delay in finally being able to speak to one another. My council seems content to work me like an ox now that everything has become more official but I insisted they release me so that I may fulfill my promise to you.”

He smiles as he offers her his arm. “I am honoured you were able to find the time at all, your grace. I know the early days in a new role can be exhausting.”

She mimics his smile gratefully as she takes his arm, allowing him to begin leading her through the gardens. They have not received the attention they deserved as of late- the shrubbery and bushes beginning to grow a bit wild, the flowers untrimmed- but she finds she likes it this way. Being so far into spring, everything is in bloom and beautiful even if they have not been well tended to, the green brilliant and dotted with red, yellow, purple, and white. She allows the silence to fall between them for a moment as she admires it all, feeling as though it has been too long since she has been allowed to enjoy something so simplistically pretty. Whenever she is given a gown or a piece of jewelry, she cannot help but feel as though it is a piece in this great game she never asked to play. The flowers, though, nature, they do not suffer the same fate.

Eventually, she knows she cannot allow for the silence to reign much longer and turns her head to look at the young lord. “My brother told me much about you in his letters. I feel as though you and I are already acquainted.”

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @ashovertheriver @hypocritic-trash-baby @heavenly1927 @bunbunbl0gs @divxnee @seabasscevans

[wallflowerwritesstuff]

You Chose: Zayne

border credit goes to cafekitsune here on tumblr 🖤

We’re sorry for the delay, please remain seated while we do our best to resolve our current—

You’re nearly half asleep as you hear the same recording for the fifth time in the last hour. Your body is in agony at this point, your mind scrambling to solve this problem as you do with all the others. Ignoring it is no longer viable, so, swallowing your pride, you pull your phone from your pocket. As if the universe knew what you were about to do, it begins to ring before you can even reach the contact screen.

You accept the call from Dr. Stranger, your arm protesting as you lift the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“So you answered. I had an inkling you would. It isn’t in you to miss a call regardless of your situation.” 

You frown. Rather than greet him as usual, you find yourself stuck on his first statement. 

“Did you expect me not to answer? Why call instead of text, then? And I like to make sure people don’t think I’m ignoring them,” you grumble in a hushed tone, still very aware you are in public and not everyone wants to hear your riveting conversation. 

“I called to leave a voicemail since you didn’t answer my earlier texts, though this is better as now you have no reason to try to avoid your next check-up.” 

A groan leaves you as you nearly slam your head against the bus window. 

“You could have easily called me in the morning, Dr. Zayne,” you insist, pausing before sitting up and biting back the groan that wants to escape. Even with the pain, you’re aware he wouldn’t have called just to leave a voicemail if there wasn’t something else important to say.  “Is something wrong? Is it a Wandere—”

A huff that you assume was meant to be amused left him, but it almost sounded mixed with something heavier—annoyance, maybe. He would deny it to the moon and back, however, claiming his patience was hard to wear down. 

“Even when you seem ready to fall asleep, your mind goes to protecting Linkon,” he sighs. “Look out the window, silly girl.” 

You do as told, getting close to avoid seeing your own reflection and seeing a familiar silhouette standing with a bag that you automatically recognize. You wave hesitantly, Zayne nodding once to show he had seen. 

“You went to the sweets shop again, huh?” you tease, relaxing as best you can. It was nice to see a familiar face when mere minutes ago you were contemplating life as you knew it. “You know we have a dentist appointment coming up, too. They’re gonna be so mad at you~”

“Funny enough, I understand their frustration,” he says, not bothering to elaborate and instead walking toward the bus. You watch curiously, surprised when he steps on, ignoring the driver’s warning about it being repaired to walk toward you. “It’s difficult to have a patient that doesn’t listen to even the smallest advice,” he adds, voice echoing as it came through the receiver. You lower the phone and hang up, attempting nonchalance as you cross your arms. 

The wince takes away from your act, but you proceed despite the narrowing of his eyes. 

“For someone that claims it’s funny, you don’t look too laugh-y.”

“I suppose you’d be right in that regard considering laugh-y isn’t a word.” 

“So I guess this is a bad time to claim I have no idea what you’re talking about?”  

Zayne doesn’t answer, instead holding out a hand to you. Watching it, you find yourself bouncing between his stern expression and his outstretched hand. You take it almost automatically once your brain catches up, unsure if the way his shoulders relax is because he won’t have to argue or because of something else. 

His hand is cold, and yet when he squeezes, you feel yourself warm from head to toe. 

He turns and you scramble to follow, legs like lead but seeming to have an autopilot feature that hides the fact you feel like falling over. It’s when you two arrive at his car that you find yourself wanting to ask the hundreds of questions threatening to slip off your tongue. 

“Dr. Zayne—”

“I believe I clocked out for the evening,” he says, opening the passenger side door and being patient as you maneuver your way in. He shuts the door carefully, walking to the driver’s side as you chew on your lower lip. You were thankful that area was uninjured, sure it would have stung had you dug teeth into a busted lip. 

“Zayne,” you correct, coming face to face with him as he leans toward you, causing you to blank on what it is you wanted to say. You watch him closely, his eyes flickering down before meeting your gaze again with a calmness that has you holding your breath. Zayne’s brow lifts as the soft click of a seatbelt has you realizing why he’d leaned over in the first place. 

You shrink away, clearing your throat but not missing the slight curve of his lips at your reaction. 

Jerk. 

He put his own on before starting the car, the ride silent until you remembered that you had been on your way to interrogating him—in a friendly manner, of course. 

“You lied to me.” 

“Did I?” Zayne questions, keeping his eyes forward. 

“Yes! You said you called to leave a voicemail, but you had seen me on the bus and that’s why you did it, right?” 

Staring at the road, he doesn’t meet their eyes as he responds. “Consider us even, then.”

“When did I lie?” you ask incredulously, glad Zayne was preoccupied lest you risk folding under his intense gaze. 

“I’m glad you asked. Should I begin with you saying you’d be home early today to rest after that last concussion you received last week?”

You part your lips, the promise having been made before you were called in to replace your fellow injured hunter. 

“But that—” you begin, already dreading letting him know you technically have another and this one was particularly nasty. You were cleared to sleep, but had ignored the ‘no screens’ rule due to your report. 

“Or should I remind you of our brief but telling phone call where you insisted you were fine despite barely being able to walk without looking as if breathing hurts?” 

You blink, wondering if this is the most you’ve gotten him to speak in the last few months. 

You wished it was under better circumstances. 

“But that was—”

“Or, if you want something that hasn’t happened yet, I can play fortune teller and tell you about a future where you undoubtedly attempt to convince me that you’re fine right now by doing something that most definitely would end up hurting you more.”

Deflating, you groan in defeat. 

“I get it! I’m the worst patient, but it’s not like I try to do this on purpose. The wanderers are getting so much worse and Hunters are falling left and right—” 

Zayne has a particularly hard stop at one of the street lights and you're thankful for the seatbelt that keeps you firmly in place. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to be one of them. You are my patient,” he says coldly. “What happens to anyone apart from you isn’t my concern.”

“But right now, you aren’t my doctor,” you snipe back, “You said so yourself. You clocked out for the evening.”

Zayne didn’t answer immediately, but he did drive more carefully which was a sign he had heard you.  After some time for you both to breathe and the atmosphere to cool, he hums, his version of conceding to your point. 

For now. 

You know for a fact that he isn’t done talking about this, but the remainder of your ride together is quieter: slow to the point you find yourself drifting off. 

“You can sleep if you need to. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

“Mmhm,” you murmur, your sleep-addled brain deciding that if he wanted to talk, you’d show him you weren’t easily silenced. So you let him know through slurred words that you weren’t done discussing tonight with him, either.  

You swear you hear the infamous Ice King chuckle, but when you awaken in your apartment the next morning with a note at your bedside and a cup of water and pills, you’re positive it was nothing but a pleasant dream. Zayne rarely laughed, a part of you curious if it was even in his programming.  

“Maybe one day,” you say to yourself, though you aren’t sure if you believe it or if you’re attempting to convince yourself of it. 

Surprisingly, you’re feeling pretty decent. You grab a shower, change into clothes that allow your bruises and cuts both some breathing room, and head to the kitchen to see what you can have for a late breakfast. 

You stop short of your destination, however, Zayne sitting on your couch with a cup of coffee in one hand while the other pressed against a page of the book he was reading. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, seeming to have heard your sharp breath at the sight of him.

“You’re awake.”

You nod, stuttering out an agreement as you ask why he was still here. 

Lifting his head, he places down his cup and shuts his book, twisting where he sat to stare at you while he speaks. “I believe you said you weren’t done with me just yet, correct? It would be rude to leave without hearing what it was you had on your mind.” 

You nearly fall to your knees with how tense your body becomes, even more so when you see that dangerous flicker in his eyes: the immediate switch from Zayne to Dr. Zayne obvious as he took triage of every visible mark on your body. 

“So. Talk.” 

A nervous laugh leaves you as you rip some skin from the inside of your cheek. 

You and your big mouth. 

Want to explore some of the other routes?

Click here to return to the main post for a refresher.

Or, pick your other favorite love interest below:

Xavier

Zayne

Rafayel

Sylus

[boundinparchment]

FICS FOR GAZA

Although my schedule is a bit unforgiving, I'm still writing when I can, and thus I'd like to put that effort additionally into participating in @ficsforgaza via the "Sponsor a WIP" option.

There are several WIP that are (for now) exclusive to this list and it is my hope that these projects will encourage donations towards vetted fundraisers. Word counts will be set based on achievable goals per my schedule to avoid overwhelming myself and burning the candle at both ends. I may write more than the donated word count but will always seek to meet it.

(banner credit to @/saradika-graphics)

HOW IT WORKS

$1 = 100 words written!

Make a donation to a vetted fundraiser of your choosing and send me a screenshot of your donation minus identifying personal information along with the title of the WIP you're sponsoring. These screenshots are sent to ficsforgaza to verify that they aren't used for multiple writers. For every $1 donated with submitted proof, I'll write 100 words of that particular WIP.

This link leads to tagged posts of donation posts that have been verified.

Template:

"Hi Juni, here's proof of my donation to [insert donation title]. I'd like for this to go towards [insert WIP title]. Thank you! (screenshot depicting evidence of donation depicting dollar amount; the amount donated will scale based on the rate of $1 = 100 words to be written)."

Once your ask or message is received, this post will be updated and I will track progress as words are written. This post will be managed weekly when possible.

Oneshot works will be posted when they have been fully funded; longer fics will be posted as I go to help drive donations (roughly every 300 donated words, subject to change).

ELIGIBLE WIPS

GENSHIN IMPACT

THE BEACH EPISODE - DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME SPINOFF

Drabble, probable smut and explicit rating, these two deserve a little break away from their main plot.

An interlude for Dream a Little Dream of Me. Maestra and Dottore have a little vacation and time to themselves.

current wc: 0/2,000 donated (goal) wc: 200/2,000 progress tracker: 0/2,000

THE WISDOM OF RAVENS - Raventorre/Female Reader

Beauty and the Beast retelling; monster/human relationship; quid pro quo; slowburn

The Tsaritsa was so displeased by a betrayal that she left her Palace behind and sealed it with a powerful curse. Tales told of the Winter Palaces' haunted halls, sights of wings as wide as a drake's and eyes as red as blood. There was no voron, no raven; you knew that. But you also knew that if you stayed out here, you'd freeze to death. That much was certain.

current wc: 0/2,000 donated (goal) wc: 0/2,000 progress tracker: 0/2,000

HONKAI STAR RAIL

VERTIGO EYES - Sunday/Female Original Character

Slowburn; long fic; female reader with personality; art history nonsense ensues; eventual smut; spoilers for 2.2-onward with speculation on Sunday's fate.

Armed with only a new-found sense of purpose, Sunday makes a trip to the Belobog History and Culture Museum after the Express receives your request for consideration. History is so often writ with blood that should never have been spilled and the mistakes of those who think they know best. And Sybilla is running out of time.

current wc: 1,072/2000+ donated (goal) wc: 300/2,000 progress tracker: 300/2,000

THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE - Boothill/Female Reader

Slowburn; longfic; female reader; semi-enemies to lovers; speculation regarding cybernetics and other elements of machinery alongside humanity; eventual smut; spoilers for Boothill's story.

Intellitron repairs didn't pay well, even on Penacony. Certainly not compared to salary from the IPC's Research and Development department. You had put all of that behind you, though. Or so you thought. Until a certain Galaxy Ranger stepped into your workshop with a grin and a smoking barrel.

current wc: 0/2000+ donated (goal) wc: 200/2,000 progress tracker: 0/2,000

CHANGELOG

5/29/2024:

Graphics updated

Eligible WIPs updated to include only new WIPs

5/30/2024:

Updated donated word count

6/10/2024:

Updated "Vertigo Eyes" progress wordcount

Added "The Wisdom of Ravens"

7/7/2024:

Updated “Beach Episode” spinoff donated word count

7/30/2024:

Updated synopsis for “Vertigo Eyes” from reader insert to original character

8/14/2024

Updated the donated word count for “Vertigo Eyes”

8/15/2024

Updated the total word count and written word count for "Vertigo Eyes" (donated count: 300, total word count: 1,072)

Posted Chapter 1 of "Vertigo Eyes"

[pingcall-getlead]

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[digitalsanshta]

live leads

live leads

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Live leads, often generated through live chat interactions, webinars, or events, provide businesses with a direct line to potential customers actively seeking information or solutions. Unlike traditional lead generation methods, live leads enable instant communication, fostering a personalized and immediate connection between businesses and prospects.

One significant advantage of live leads is the ability to capture genuine interest and intent. When a prospect engages in a live conversation, businesses can glean valuable insights into their needs and preferences, enabling a more tailored approach to addressing their concerns. This real-time feedback loop not only enhances the customer experience but also positions businesses to adapt swiftly to changing market demands.

Moreover, the immediacy of live leads contributes to higher conversion rates. By capitalizing on the momentum of a live interaction, businesses can guide prospects through the sales funnel more efficiently, increasing the likelihood of a positive outcome.

In conclusion, the integration of live leads into a comprehensive lead generation strategy empowers businesses to connect with their audience in the moment, providing a competitive edge in a fast-paced market. By leveraging the power of real-time engagement, businesses can not only capture interest but also nurture relationships that translate into sustained growth and success.

[city-of-ladies]

Women warriors of China (2nd to 6th century CE)

"Warfare defined the age of disunion. Women sometimes had a role in war, and they even undertook certain forms of military service. People respected prowess in the martial arts—in women as well as men—and even empresses and noblewomen honed their skills in horseback riding and archery. For a time, it was fashionable for southern ladies to wear ornaments of gold, silver, ivory, and tortoiseshell in the shape of miniature weapons. People from earlier eras had regarded any female participation in warfare as a gross violation of the fundamental distinction between the sexes. But society had become so thoroughly militarized that it became acceptable for women to have a role in war.

During the Zhou dynasty, the military class of minor aristocrats called shi had been considered a moral elite, and strict ritual rules enforced high standards of conduct. Given the ancient connections between military service, high rank, and virtue, a female warrior could gain admiration for her moral superiority. Traditionally, women fought for the sake of Confucian virtues such as righteousness (yi) and filial piety. Han dynasty writings describe female role models noted for both bravery and virtue. Moral principles sometimes spurred women to violence, as they sought vengeance on behalf of a wronged kinsman or fended off unwanted sexual advances. Six Dynasties authors continued to celebrate virtuous female fighters. A woman who beat her husband’s murderer to death received an imperial amnesty due to her righteous behavior. And when one man wanted to force a woman to marry him, she fended him off with a sword, earning praise as a model of female integrity.

Other women took part in military operations. Emperor Wen of Jin and Empress Wenming conducted an important military campaign together, and she received equal credit for managing important military matters. Northern rulers sometimes employed women from the steppe as palace bodyguards. There was also the case of a woman who became a general, albeit under unusual circumstances. Her father, a noted military officer, had been ordered to lead an army while still in mourning for his deceased mother. He did not want to violate his mourning obligations, so he appointed one of his daughters to be general and another daughter as a high-ranking officer so that they could serve in his place. Historical records do not reveal whether these women prosecuted the war themselves or merely acted as figureheads on their father’s behalf. Either way, the soldiers consented to taking orders from a female general.

In wartime, large numbers of women found themselves pressed into military roles. During a siege, female inhabitants served alongside men on the city walls, fighting and also repairing the fortifications. And women born into military households lived a martial life. As these families tended to intermarry, their women spent their lives immersed in war. With conflict so frequent, they often accompanied their husbands on campaigns and lived in army camps. When war loomed, entire families would embark on a military campaign. 

Even though classical ritual forbade women from participating in war, some nevertheless took on military roles. As the Han dynasty disintegrated, women began to have a more visible presence in military camps. Both the warlord Cao Cao and his foes used female troops on the battlefield, where they brandished spears, halberds, and bows. In that era, soldiers became a distinct social caste. The daughter of a soldier could only marry another soldier, so a woman born into a military family had no choice but to spend her life in a military environment.

The law sentenced men convicted of certain crimes, and their wives, to military service. Under the Northern Qi, both convicts and their female family members became soldiers. Like their husbands, women pressed into military service lived under strict discipline. If a man committed an infraction or absconded, authorities punished his wife as well. As in armies elsewhere in the world, most of these women lacked special skills or fighting ability. Instead they provided support, constructing fortifications, handling provisions, mending weapons, defending their camp, and doing domestic chores. Only occasionally did they go out on the battlefield.

Although the north lacked an institutionalized system of military communities, the women of military households often followed their husbands off to war. The Xianbei traditionally expected their women to be strong and to fight when necessary. The militaristic values of nomadic conquerors gave rise to the famed ballad of Hua Mulan, composed by an anonymous northern poet. In this story, when Mulan’s father is drafted, she disguises herself as a man to serve in his place. She becomes an exemplary warrior and distinguishes herself with outstanding heroism. Mulan is even offered an official post in recognition of her courage, which she modestly declines. Instead she returns home, dons female attire, and resumes conventional female life.

The tale of Mulan has captured the imaginations of generations of readers, and it continues to be retold in new ways. Although audiences today appreciate this story as an engaging fantasy, it originally seemed much closer to quotidian reality at a time when many women belonged to military households and received martial arts training. Mulan’s respect for Confucian propriety helps account for her perennial appeal. She does not dress like a man or become a warrior out of desire or ambition. Instead she sees these unpleasant actions as a way to protect her father from harm. After succeeding on the battlefield, she refuses to continue dressing as a man and bearing arms. Instead she returns home and resumes a stereotypical female life. The original readers could accept Mulan challenging gender norms and taking on a masculine identity only because she undertook it as a temporary sacrifice for the sake of moral duty. By mixing conservative Confucian integrity with startling violations of feminine decorum, Mulan has captured the hearts of numerous readers and remains an object of fascination both in China and abroad."

Women in early medieval China, Bret Hinsch

[gaylordscooter]

Getting Lost in Yourself

Today’s torment was simple: escape the maze.

What Nightmare neglected to mention was that it was a mirror maze. Which was much harder than a normal one.

They weren't even sure they could trust that there was an exit in the first place.

Heck, the entrance closed behind them the second they were all shoved in.

Killer was incredibly confident that he would be able to finish the maze quickly—until they learned it was a mirror maze. He stared at his reflection, dumbfounded at the turn of events. His original plan of running around blindly until he found the exit was foiled. He knew how these things worked. Running was a surefire way to get a concussion.

Dust held his gaze nowhere in particular, seemingly unamused by the predicament as per usual.

As for Horror—

Crash.

“EY, HEY. WOAH, WATCH WHERE YOU’RE SWINGING!” Killer yelled.

He was swinging around a femur he summoned like there was no tomorrow. He grunted with effort as he slammed it into a nearby mirror. The shards of it flew everywhere, narrowly missing the openings in his skull.

Crash.

The mirrors he destroyed would quickly repair itself. Only the shrapnel littering the ground and Horror’s crazed look served as proof for his havoc.

Crash.

Killer grabbed the bone as Horror winded up for another swing. “hey. stop trying to bash your reflection’s skull. i assure you, it's just as cracked as yours. that's how reflections work.”

Horror turned his head around to glare at him. He yanked the bone out of his grasp with so much force Killer’s arm would’ve been dislocated if he held on.

“i get that you're slow and the gaping hole in your head isn't pleasant to look at but come on. haven't you noticed that bashing them isn't going to work, freakshow?” Killer barely had time to back away, crashing into Dust while he did, as Horror swung at him instead.

They both ended up on the ground with Killer on top of him. Dust roughly shoved him off to the side, causing him to roll into a nearby mirror.

Killer recuperated from the series of events, seeing his face twist in anger through his reflection, and stood. “what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“i’m not dealing with a goddamn mirror maze with you,” Horror grunted.

“oh okay then,” he threw his hands up, “just fuckin’ kill me then i guess!”

Horror decided to heed his advice, but Killer was ready this time and turned his soul blue.

Ping

He sent him forward. It took him a bit before he actually crashed into a mirror.

Killer and Dust walked forward. Killer stopped right in front of Horror, who he was still holding up by his soul.

“i don't know if you know what sarcasm is, but that wasn't actually an invitation. besides, you can't kill me if you tried.” He released his soul.

To Horror’s credit he managed to remain upright instead of collapsing. He scoffed and decided to walk off without them.

“splitting off, that's fine with me! asshole.” Killer tugged at his jacket, straightening it out, and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “c’mon, dust.” He turned to the opposite direction that Horror went, hand outstretched in front of him to avoid bumping into the wall of mirrors.

Dust followed him, glancing at the direction Horror went. He remembered what happened the last time they split up. Nightmare told them not to do that after. Regardless, he didn't voice any concerns nor show any. It wasn't his problem. He stayed behind Killer, blindly putting faith in his ability to navigate. He wasn't going to bother finding the way out himself. Even with his hood obscuring his face, he didn't want to see his reflection.

Thankfully Killer didn't waste any time. They were able to get in pretty deep quickly.

“this isn't so hard,” he snickered as his hand pressed against a mirror. He slid along it until his hand touched the air. “you just gotta lead with your hand instead of your—”

He cut himself off as he caught sight of the hallway they were heading down. Rather than the normal walls of mirrors, there were spikes protruding from all sides that were also mirrors, which required much more precise movement to get around without getting nicked.

“hm. ‘course it wasn't going to be this easy,” Killer mumbled. He summoned a bone in his hand, deciding to use Horror's method from earlier. He shot it down the hall, it didn't reach far until it crashed into one of the spikes. However the bone merely bounced off of it without any damage to the glass. He hissed through his teeth. “welp, wish me luck, dust.”

He didn't, but that was a given. 

Killer went forward blindly, trying to stay in the middle as much as possible. It felt like he was going through a tunnel full of crystals in Waterfall. Now that was a bitter thought. He remembered chasing down a Woshua and Aaron that tried escaping him. He could almost smell the dampness of the cave now.

Unfortunately he didn't have an omnipotent force controlling his every move to carefully maneuver around the crystals now.

He moved faster now with a sudden urgency falling over him.

They were getting away. The monsters were getting away, a voice said.

He bit back a scream when he stepped on a very small crystal on the ground that was right in the middle. He didn't have time for fretting over injuries. He lifted his foot off, grunting. It cut him deep enough that he could feel he was bleeding, at least it didn't puncture through his bones.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head around and readied his knife, only to see his lost self.

Sans.

He jolted back in surprise, a few more nicks and tears joining the collection on his body and clothes.

“it's me, dumbass,” he hissed. He held up the remains of his shredded hood like he was demanding a refund from Killer.

It took him a second to register the mismatched eyelights and the illusion shattered. He swore they were white a second ago.

“we're not in waterfall. there hasn't been a reset.”

Killer blinked. He put his knife away. “how did you—”

Dust pushed him forward, signifying the end of the conversation.

He sighed, going down the tunnel until they finally returned to a normal portion of the maze. This place was making him antsy. If they didn't get out of here soon he was going to start shortcutting, risks be damned.

Now that Dust’s hood was ruined, he was glaring holes into Killer’s back. Unfortunately his reflections still mocked him from his peripheral vision.

Horror wasn't doing much better than the other two. Sure, he hasn't hit a single dead end, but that only made him suspect the maze was changing as he was walking.

At least he didn't have Killer talking his head off. That guy gave him a headache.

He'd like to see him get his skull gouged open and his eye stolen; see if he jokes about his injury after. Maybe it’d make him less annoying. Maybe he'd be quieter.

This maze was driving him crazy.

He wouldn't consider himself a claustrophobic monster. Many times he fell in between his mattress and the wall and he still slept soundly—but this was different.

He was stuck here with no one but himself.

What would happen if he didn't solve the maze? Would he just be stuck here forever?

He came to a halt. He felt like he was walking in circles.

He sat down, leaning against one of the walls with his eye sockets shut. He was tired of this. He was tired of walking around aimlessly and seeing his reflection.

Him and that stupid red eye that didn't even belong to him. He was painfully aware of its presence in his socket. It sat in his socket like a cuckoo bird that intruded on another’s nest. Despite its presence, he could still feel that something was missing. His actual eye.

He opened his sockets, glaring at the red eye.

He wanted nothing more than to rip it out, but he couldn't. Every time he tried he'd just be reminded of the time everything went wrong. He’d feel the same pain too.

Dust couldn't ignore his jealousy for Killer right now. The way he was completely unfazed by looking at himself. Dust wasn't stupid. He knew why Nightmare made it a mirror maze.

It wasn't a secret that he, and Horror, hated looking at themselves. They could look at each other just fine, sure, they’ve gotten used to it.

Besides, Killer and Horror had their differences in appearance.

But Dust didn't look different from Sans. He didn't have a crater in his head or weird black tears showing that something's changed. Sure his eyelights were different, but it was only when he was using his magic to make them look that way.

Otherwise, he looked exactly the same. As if he didn't face any consequences from killing everyone in the underground at all.

At least Killer looked like he's gone through shit.

Maybe a scar on his face would make it easier to look at himself. Now that was an idea.

Killer halted suddenly, patting the wall in front of them and then the sides.

A dead end.

A perfect opportunity.

“great going, dumbass,” Dust muttered.

“hey, i don't see you being any help,” Killer retorted, turning around to face him.

“usually solving mazes is a one man’s job. i shouldn't need to help. unless, of course, you're that useless.”

Killer whipped around to face him with a snarl. “newsflash, you didn't have to follow me!”

“i did, actually. nightmare told me not to leave you alone because of your pathetic breakdown last time you were alone.”

Killer drew out his knife. There it was. “oh, so suddenly you're my babysitter?”

Dust kept his hands in his pockets and his face expressionless. “more like your nurse practitioner,” he deadpanned.

Killer scoffed. In a quick motion his knife was hovering over Dust’s neck. “if you were my doctor, i would’ve killed myself by now.”

Dust’s eyelights flicked down to the knife by his metaphorical throat and back to his face. He grabbed Killer’s wrist to angle his knife higher to point at his face. “what are you waiting for?”

It was like he dunked water on him, bringing him to his senses. Killer tried bringing his knife away but Dust stubbornly held it where it was. “what the fuck is your problem?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Dust’s response to that was to fall backwards, bringing Killer with him to the ground. As Killer landed on top of him his knife nearly cut Dust’s skull, only missing due to his struggling.

The utter look of shock and confusion on his face almost made Dust laugh, and he would've if he wasn't so focused on the task at hand. “c’mon killer,” he spat his name like it was his role, “don't get shy now.” He dragged his knife closer to his face, the tip making contact with his cheek.

“It's like carving a pumpkin.”

He could feel him tug to keep the knife from piercing through bone. It was annoying. He swore Killer would get right to slicing up his face yet here he was, disappointing him.

“you're fucking insane,” he said.

Dust smiled and narrowed his eyes, his amusement on full display. “you're one to talk.”

Killer finally managed to wrench his arm out of Dust’s grasp. He dropped the knife. At the same time, Dust’s smile fell. “c’mon, dusty,” he said, softening that grating voice as much as he could. He didn't say anything after. He most likely had no idea what to follow up with.

Dust groaned, shoving him off. He loathed whenever Killer called him a nickname, especially that one. He stayed on the ground while Killer stood up.

He stared up at the ceiling. Which was also a mirror.

A second later, Killer’s coat landed on his head. He jerked up, sitting upright. The coat fell into his lap.

“let's switch, so you can have a hood,” he said. He crossed his bare arms, Dust could see glimpses of scars that he was trying to keep out of view.

He took off his jacket and handed it to Killer, the latter quickly throwing it on, not bothering to zip it up like Dust does. He made an effort to keep his gaze off of him, knowing that underneath Dust’s usual jacket was Sans’s signature hoodie.

Despite everything, he’d still wear it even though he kept it hidden. He assumed it was because it had a hood, unlike the jacket he wore over it. It couldn't be for a sentimental reason.

Dust put his coat on, tugging the hood over his head. The fluffy fur at the edge of the hood was so obnoxiously long and thick that he could hardly see. He preferred this to his torn hood.

“we’ll need to backtrack some, hopefully we won’t run into any more dead ends,” he sighed.

Dust didn't respond, slipping back into his usual silence. Killer took that as a good thing.

A few more minutes of walking around later, they ran into Horror who was walking in their direction.

Killer gave him a glare, expecting a snide remark from him.

Instead, he wordlessly turned around with a sigh, knowing that he was definitely going in the wrong direction.

Killer trotted after him. “wait up! we might as well stick together now.”

Horror continued at the pace he was going, unresponsive.

They managed to catch up with him anyway.

Horror shot a glance at him and Dust, snorting humorlessly. “why’d you two switch clothes?”

“ey, don't get it twisted. dusty’s hood just got ripped up and he whined about it so I gave him mine.”

“you didn't have to wear his though.”

Killer shrugged, “i didn't want to get cold.”

“we don't get cold,” he muttered. “you're acting like you don't go to each other's rooms nightly.”

“oh hey look, the exit.” Killer pointed ahead.

Dust immediately shoved past him, throwing the possibility of him lying out of the window.

Fortunately, he was telling the truth and Dust didn't end up crashing into a mirror. Instead he reached the outside, in between the forest and castle. He fell forward, letting himself faceplant and embrace the grass of questionable authenticity.

Horror’s sockets widened, completely throwing the current topic at hand out the window to follow after Dust.

Killer snickered at their relief, but he couldn't deny that he felt the same. After all, he also hated looking at himself—not because he was ugly like Horror, he was the spitting image of handsome—it just wasn't a hobby of his.

But he wouldn't bitch and moan like the other two.

Still, those unexpressed feelings probably couldn't escape Nightmare.

He walked out, letting some tension dissolve from his mind and body as the dubiously genuine sunlight hit his skull.

He looked around, expecting Nightmare to show up and mock them or something as he tended to do after they finished the “activity” for the day. He caught movement near the forest only to register it as a deer. He continued looking around to no avail. Huh, maybe he wasn't going to show up.

Hang on, the only animals in the forest were his cats. He glanced back to where the deer was, only to see it gone.

And then it appeared right in front of him.

He flinched back, filled with the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. Something was off about this deer, not just the deer there was something wrong with where they were too…

The deer stared at him, keeping one side of its head pointed at him to show off its unusual eye that he finally noticed looked exactly like Nightmare's eye.

It hurt to look at it, but he couldn't look away. He couldn't control his body at all, now that he thought about it.

Finally, it hit him. They weren't at the castle anymore, Nightmare cast them out. They've found a new home.

This was a dream. Well, it was a dream of a memory, but at this point this was all different.

The false world around him started crumbling the moment he realized.

The deer, Dust, and Horror were gone.

It was about time to wake up, he thought.

On cue, his sockets opened, but he still couldn't see on the account of it being too dark in the room. Must be the middle of the night, then.

There was something heavy on his legs. It shifted around when he moved them slightly. It reminded him of a cat, but it was much heavier. Wait a minute, “dusk?” he whispered.

He got an annoyed drone in response.

Yeah, it was him.

“i had a weird dream—”

He was cut off by Dusk shushing him.

“yeesh ok, g'night.” He adjusted his position slightly, trying not to disturb him by moving his legs. The second he closed his eye sockets again he fell right back to sleep.

He wondered what the deal was with that deer.

[vodika-vibes]

Take A Chance On Happiness

Summary: While on Coruscant, Sev meets someone who views the world the same way he does. And he decides to take a chance on happiness.

Pairing; Pre Clone Commando Sev x F!Reader

Word Count: 882

Warnings: None, really

A/N: This isn't really good, but I'm not going to have much time to write for the next week or so, because of family, so I wanted to get at least one story out this week.

It starts like this.

Sev and his pod brothers arrive on Coruscant after a long mission. Their ship needs repairs, and that’s the only reason that they were rerouted to Coruscant. Stars know that the GAR would never give them recuperation time.

And while he would never say it out loud, Sev does love his pod brothers. They’re the other parts of his soul after all. But sometimes he needs a break from them.

A break from Scorch’s bad jokes.

From Fixer’s disapproving sighs.

From Boss’ incessant worrying (though, to his older brother’s credit, he hides his worry behind a gruff demeanor and barked orders).

So he offered an excuse and he left the barracks that they borrowed while they were on Coruscant.

There are few places on Coruscant where clones are welcomed. 79s, if he was in the mood for drinking, dancing, or companionship. Dex’s Diner if he was in the mood for filling food. There’s a library, if he wants to find something to read. And a few cafes that give free treats and caf to Clones.

But, in truth, Sev isn’t in the mood for any of that.

Alcohol wouldn’t hurt, but if he wanted to drink he’d have stayed with his pod brothers. And, so soon returned from the battlefield, the last thing he wants is strangers pressed against him, trying to coax him out of the safety of his armor.

So, instead of visiting his normal haunts, Sev allows his feet to lead him to the memorial wall.

The fact that there’s a memorial for fallen clones is still a shock to him, but it is nice to visit from time to time. Even if it tends to make him melancholic.

The nice thing about the wall is that nat borns don’t visit it. Save for the few who actually care about clones.

And so, when he arrives at the wall, he’s surprised to see that he’s not alone. The woman seems to be reading the names on the wall, her fingers tracing a name every now and then. 

There’s music playing, Sev isn’t sure where it’s coming from, at first, but soon realizes that the music is coming from the woman’s comm. It sounds like a ballad. A song of loss and hope in the face of great despair.

She turns to look at him and the music stops. Sev finds himself missing the music already.

“Apologies,” Her voice is light, it almost flows like a river, “I thought I was alone here. I normally am.”

“You come here often then?” Sev asks.

“Every day, after work.” She turns to face him fully, her gaze flickering to the paint on his armor. Intentionally painted in such a way as to look like blood. She tilts her head to one side and steps closer to him, “Your paint is meant to look like blood?”

“That bother you?”

“Only in the sense that paint doesn’t have the same consistency of blood and so it doesn’t spread the same.” She leans in slightly, “You did do a very good job, though.”

“You know blood, cyar’ika?”

“I’m a forensic scientist who specializes in blood.” She explains, “It’s terribly interesting. You can learn so much from a crime scene based on the blood of the victim.”

Sev’s lips curl up into a slightly amused smile, “I wouldn’t know. I’m generally the person spreading the blood everywhere.”

“Oh?” There’s interest in her gaze, “Like what?”

“You ever see what a Geonosian looks like when it gets blown up?” He asks.

Her painted lips curl up into a smile, “There aren’t very many Geonosians on Coruscant.”

Sev absently taps his helmet, “I have recordings if you want to see. Though they’re not civvie friendly.”

“I would like to see.” She replies, “I’ve seen a lot of twisted things, but an exploding anything is new.” She pauses a moment and twists a thick strand of hair around a finger, “You could come to my place. I have a small sarlacc.”

“A small sarlacc?”

“Genetically modified so it never gets larger than a decently sized pot.” She explains, “Plus, and I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m a pretty spectacular cook. And you look like you could use a good meal or two.”

“That right?”

“And, if you’re interested, I can take you to the body farm tomorrow.”

“Oh? You planning on inviting me to spend the night?”

“Only if you want.”

He pauses, “What’s the body farm?”

“Oh! It’s a wonderful place! People who donate their bodies to science sometimes end up at the body farm so people like me can study the effects of the environment on their bodies as they decay.”

Sev stares at her, his jaw dropped, “That sounds awesome.” He admits, “I would love to visit the body farm with you. I just need to tell my brothers where I’ll be.”

“Perfect! You’ll be thrilled to see it!” Her smile is small, “I don’t get many guests. But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Sev’s grin widens, “I’m going to comm my older brother and tell him that I’m going to a body farm with a woman I just met. He’s going to freak.”

She laughs, “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

Taglist:

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@Kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

[j4gm]

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 7: THE STAR

Let's see what this episode has in store.

This is an alternate universe where Simon was killed by vampires before he found Marceline. Even the scientific parasite in his breast pocket looks like it has been drained of blood.

Our Simon demonstrating his survival skills. We never got to see him dealing with vampires in his own universe, but presumably he ran into them a few times and is familiar with their weaknesses.

These kinds of vampire minions last appeared in the Stakes miniseries. They are a lot more varied in design now. Also, the architecture of this world is interesting. It looks like gothic palaces have been built into the roots of decaying skyscrapers.

Bonnie's crew has several of the familiar vampire hunting tools from Stakes, including stake launchers and garlic bombs. They also douse some of the vampires in holy water, which was previously shown to harm demons in the episode Dad's Dungeon. This is the first time it's been seen working on vampires.

Marshall Lee has a Hambo mirror decoration. In the prime universe Hambo was Marceline's toy teddy bear, given to her by Simon.

Martin is an interesting choice for Bonnie's crew. In this universe it seems like he never had a son, since the humans presumably never left Ooo for the Islands. It also seems like he's a better person here, willing to risk his life to follow Fionna's noble lead. He has the same jacket as he had in The Visitor, which several people identified when we first saw Fionna wearing it in the trailer.

The cat on Bonnie's mug is Timmy from the episode The Pajama War. The fact she broke it is surely the most heartbreaking loss of this episode :(

The other member of the team is Huntress Wizard, who looks to be a human in this universe for some reason. I don't think Huntress Wizard was originally human in the prime universe.

Baby Finn snuck into this universe, and by the end of the episode was left to be raised by self-repairing battletank single gay dad PepButt. I'm sure he'll turn out fine.

The Cosmic Owl has been flagged up on Scarab's arrest list for "profiteering". Perhaps his neglect of his duties during Hoots has been discovered, or perhaps this is a new crime.

There are loads of new genderswapped characters in this scene. I've already reblogged a post listing all the ones we've spotted so far, so refer to that for details. The most significant is Ms. Abadeer. According to the credits, her first name is Hana.

Even Billy has been slain by vampires.

Princess Bubblegum calls Fionna a dillweed, her go-to insult from the episode Hot Diggity Doom. It's good to hear some Adventure Time swearing from time to time despite the liberties they're taking with the TV-14 rating.

Enter the titular character! Like the other members of the Vampire Court from Stakes, Marceline has taken a new name from the ranks of the Major Arcana of a tarot deck: The Star. Huntress mentions that she is the last member of the court, having outlived everyone beside the Vampire King himself. The fact she can fly suggests she killed and sucked The Fool's soul despite him being a fellow member of the court.

She is seen using her soul-sucking demon powers, inherited from Hunson, on Martin. She also demonstrates that she has no problem drinking blood in this universe, despite the fact vampires can eat the colour red.

Bonnie and The Star have such an interesting dynamic in this episode. It seems like fate is seeking to entwine them, but this has been twisted into a relationship of mutual hatred. Yet The Star is furious when a minion suggests she kill Bonnie, and Bonnie fails to take an opportunity to kill The Star later on. Something is keeping these two immortals in an eternal dance, even in a universe where they are arch nemeses.

A lot of this series has centred around Simon's relationship to fatherhood, and realising that he is a better dad than some of the others he's met will likely end up being a key moment in his recovery.

I believe this section was boarded by Hannah K. You've probably all seen her famous Bubbline stakeplay drawing. This scene must have been fun to draw.

I really enjoyed the parallel of Gary and Marshall getting their climactic kiss while Bonnie and The Star fell together to their deaths, demonstrating that the girls' fall was just as gay as the boys kissing, but in a very different way. We also know from interviews that Gary and Marshall's relationship is supposed to parallel that of early Bubbline in the prime universe. Perhaps Princess Bubblegum got Marceline out of a bad deal with Hunson Abadeer, shortly after their first meeting at Marceline's concert, and that's when they first hit it off.

The dream in this episode's credits features Marceline's house; a home that neither The Star nor this Marshall Lee have ever known.

[ambrosiaaddiction]

The Princess and The Tool’s Day Off

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ repair man!Simon Riley x curvy!Y/N

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: Slight nsfw excerpt from a series that most of us are familiar with.

₊˚ପ⊹ Word Count: 1.6k

₊˚ପ⊹ a/n: this is a special filler before part 2 & credit goes to @writingmyimagination

➽──────────────❥

Sunny days weren’t particularly (Y/N)’s favorite. But for some odd reason, on one of the brightest summer days, she decided to go to the pool and test out the amenities her apartment offered. Dressed in her white bikini top that had a deep v in the front and a crisscross back, she paired it with high waisted black bottoms with a white trim. She wore a black Pink brand baseball hat to conceal her face from the hot sun and hoped to avoid sunburn.

(Y/N) had always been the solitary type until Luna brightened up her life, whether she wanted her to or not. She chose her, and they’ve been friends since. She had the opportunity to spend time in the sun alone at their community pool, and hence she took it. The sun beaming down on her skin, allowing the heat to create small beads of sweat as she worked on her non-existent tan and read her book series. So engrossed in her fantasy world with her favorite steamy romance novel, she failed to notice the heavy gaze from a certain repair man while he let loose of some steam in the gym.

“Bloody hell.” Simon whistled as he silently cursed and praised his job’s layout of the gym and pool. The clubhouse that houses the gym was placed right next to the pool with an open view. The windows showed a one way reflection as he looked out to the sunny deserted place, finding the bane of his existence just giggling at her book. “She’s fuckin’ stunnin’.” He breathed out to no one in particular. “Those curves on display for the world. They aren’t worthy of this masterpiece.”

His muscles rippled with every set as he pushed himself further than usual, wanting his veins to pop just a bit more today. Heavy breaths and grunts escaping him, filling the room with a small echo. Considering he was the only person there. This was a typical day off for Simon. Work out when no one was around, wash off and spend his day doing something around his house. 

He knew he had a change of plans in order when near the end of his two hour workout, she was still there. He watched her occasionally get too hot, take her hat off, and dove into the deepest end of the pool. The first time, (Y/N) had him almost nearing the door, ready to save her when she didn’t come up for air. Only for him to realize she swam the length of the pool under water then would float just in the middle as if she was the only person in the world.

His favorite moment was when she’d use the ladder to climb out, the water dripping off her and he’d wish it was something else. Simon had been in quite the predicament after visiting her home and meeting both her and her best friend. He thought of her randomly after that and wondered if after he was done fixing stuff, would she’d still look at him with that cute pout every now and then.

He ached, his muscles burning from his intense regimen. He made use of the gyms showers and changed to his deep maroon swimming trunks. They were mid-thigh to show his toned muscular legs and tight, giving little to imagine if he stood just right. It’s not like he could help it if he was blessed in the areas most men would pay money for.

Once he walked out of the gym, he instantly made eye contact with her.

“Holy mother of all things good.” She muttered under her breath. Her eyes roamed over his chiseled arms, seeing the veins pop as they reached his hands. They trailed down his torso to the criminal happy trail leading down to a rather large bulge. He stood by the outside shower and pulled on the lever, letting the water run and hit his body. He purposely ignored the lingering stare, and held back from giving her the same kind of attention.

She snapped out of her head, turning her attention back to the book. She realized she was at the part where the ravenous viscount took his mistress against a tree in the open. Her face darkened into a deep red as her mind began whirling with imagination, the words fueling her desire as she feels the heat against her skin.

➽──────────────❥

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he violently thrust into her like a mad man, trying to satisfy a insatiable desire. His hands holding the soft plush underside of her thighs and their grip tightening occasionally when he feels her walls clench. The moans leaving her body as he pushes her against the tree, her undergarments long retired and lost. “We shouldn’t… ngh—“ he covers her lips with his own and pulls back, looking deep into her soul. “Just give me everything, princess. I want to feel you lose yourself against me.” She gives out a rather breathless sigh as her orgasm pools in the depths of her stomach—

➽──────────────❥

“Hi, (Y/N). How’s the breaker working so far?” A deep voice pulled (Y/N) out of her fantasy. The owner of said voice was a pleasant surprise, and she gave him a radiant smile. She then put her book down on the table next to her. “Hey, Simon! It’s been good so far, and no complaints. Thank you, Sir.” Her chaste manners, as well as the unexpected term, caught him off guard.

“Good to hear.” Simon’s chest swelled with pride from the compliments. Especially when it was so genuine and sweet. Like her. “Sorry if I’m interruptin’ your sun, usually ’m the only one here. S’nice to see someone else enjoyin’ the amenities.” He was glad that someone happened to be (Y/N). She motioned to the lounge chair next to her. “Take a seat! I don’t mind company at all—I should probably take a rest from reading anyways.”

He glanced over to the table and she nervously reached for her hat that’s right next to it. (Y/N)’s cleavage taunted him as she bent forward. She placed it back on and smiled before her timer to flip went off. She stood as he set up on the lounge chair next to her. He watched her lower the back to a lying position and then climbed down. Her perfectly plush round ass jiggling in the air as she became comfortable and laid her head on her folded arms, looking over at him.

Simon laid back and tried his best to be a gentleman as he too basked in the sun. A short comfortable silence soon fell among the both of them as the wind blew, offering some relief from the heat. His gaze got the best of him, and he could see her figure in his peripheral vision as she smiled to nothing.  

Minutes passed and (Y/N)’s timer went off again. They both looked at one another and glanced at the pool. A silent nod of approval is shared, and you both stand. Simon’s the first to go in and watched as she dove in the water. Small ripples formed around him, and he felt her near in seconds as she came up for air. He noticed she couldn’t stand like him where she was, so he offered his arm as a float for her to take a rest. (Y/N) slowly reached out and touched his wrist, going up his arm as she sought a comfortable position to just float. With a gentle tug, Simon guided her over to the shallow side. Once she could stand on her own, she reluctantly let go of his arm.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” He vocalized his inner thoughts. For a man of few words, he succeeded in receiving an adorable reaction from (Y/N). Her cheeks bloomed a soft pink, and she shyly averted her gaze. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” This came as a shock to Simon, and yet, he never felt more elated. “So we can both agree there’s an attraction. How about you let me take you out?”

He quickly added, “No rush on the answer, but just let me know when I can come by to check on the paint.” He didn’t want her to feel as though she was being pressured. If anything, her consent mattered most, and he worried he’d scare her off. “O-Okay, I’ll ponder it.” (Y/N) agreed, which brought a smile to his features. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The rest of the afternoon is spent swimming and sunbathing until dusk.

They both packed up their personal belongings, and he walked her back to her apartment. Even though it was in the opposite direction of his, but that was irrelevant. Once at the entrance of her place, the Ring camera chimed, letting her know they’re being recorded. (Y/N) already knew Luna was going to want all the answers.

“I had fun today. Thank you for the unexpected company.” She turned to face Simon properly, her eyes bright and her arms hugging her bag closely to her chest. Smiling, he shook his head. “You’re welcome, doll. But I think ’m the grateful one here.”

There’s a small silence and only (Y/N) can hear Luna shout from the inside, “YOU BETTER KISS THAT MAN OR I WILL.” (Y/N) held back a laugh and reached forward, her hand going to his bicep. She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. The softness of her lips igniting a spark in him he hadn’t felt in ages. “Good night, Simon.”

Right then and there, he felt like he was going to stop breathing. She certainly knew how to steal his breath away without even trying. “Have a good night, (Y/N). I hope you have sweet dreams.” He whispered lowly just so that his words resonated deeply in her.

With that, he took a few steps back and watched her head inside until she closed the door behind her. He began the walk back to his apartment, dreading for work tomorrow. Simon knew there would be a lot of picking up his co-workers’ slack. But this time, his thoughts would be full of her.