#HE WAS ONLY OUT FOR LIKE. WHAT. A FEW WEEKS AT MOST BEFORE BEING PRESUMED DEAD AGAIN

[pileofpawns]

Shadow becomes so much more tragic when you remember that, to him, The Incident™ was SUPER recent. It takes a LOT of fucking time and effort to recover from trauma like that, but Shadow was in cryosleep for those 50 years. That time might has well have not existed for him. His sister was murdered and then he had to go hang out with Eggman the next morning and act somewhat normal. Even years after SA2 it doesn’t feel that long ago. Could you fucking imagine.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery: Christmas

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Cub

"We could get her another cat?"

"We're not getting her another cat!"

It's strangely difficult to find ideas for Christmas presents to give a little girl that's only obsessed with cats, the washing machine and baking.

Your mothers can't exactly buy you your own washing machine or an electric mixer or, god forbid, another massive cat for you to carry around and insist isn't fat, isn't a complete monster or isn't the absolutely worst enemy of your mothers.

One of those worst enemies, your incredibly fat tabby Garfield, sits on the kitchen counter attempting to bat open a box of cereal to feed his never ending hunger.

Mapi and Ingrid ignore him, knowing that sooner or later this burst of energy will leave and he will amble off to a sunspot so he can nap away the rest of the day.

"Mami!" A call comes from your bedroom. "I'm stuck again!"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "Just a minute, cub! I'm coming!" She turns back to Ingrid. "Definitely a no to the cat?"

Ingrid sighs. "No more cats."

"Just trying to make it easier on us!"

"Go and help our kid put on her t-shirt. I've got this."

But Ingrid very much doesn't have this. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a Christmas present for you but you're such a content kid. You've already got toys and the tv and the washing machine and the cats.

There's not really much else you want or need.

You're no help either, of course, because when Ingrid asks, you just reply with a simple:

"Er...I can get more time in yours and Mami's bed?"

So, it was very clear that you didn't quite know what you wanted for Christmas either apart from, clearly, curling up in Mapi and Ingrid's bed with them and probably kicking Mapi in her sleep.

Ingrid spends weeks stewing over what she and Mapi could get you. They'd gotten you a few throw away things like a new yellow digger after your last one fall off the balcony and smashed into the pavement below and a cute little necklace that doubled as identification with things like your name and had Mapi and Ingrid's numbers on them in case you ever went missing in a crowded area.

In the end, it's Frido that comes to her and Mapi's rescue, throwing out an idea at random during lunch when Aitana takes you up to the buffet to find some chicken.

It's a throwaway comment but with Mapi and Ingrid struggling to work out what else they could get you, they cling to it like a lifeline. They're fairly easy presents to source, something that Ingrid is glad for because she's cutting it abnormally close to Christmas day to get everything sorted.

"Mami..."

There's a crackle on the monitor that has Mapi stirring awake.

"Maaaami."

Mapi counts to ten in her mind before rolling out of bed, kissing a still sleeping Ingrid on the cheek and making her way out to your room.

"Merry Christmas, cub," She says as she pushes open your bedroom door," I see you've got company."

All of the cats seem to have migrated to your bed overnight.

Garfield, as usual, is laying on his back after (presumably) being used as a stuff animal for most of the night. Bagheera sits by your feet, grooming herself primly while the monstrous León-León stands nearby, tail flicking from side to side as he stares.

"We had Christmas cuddles," You say happily," And now we have the gingerbread?"

"We'll have to wait. Mama is still asleep."

"Why?"

"Huh? Why is Mama still asleep? She's tired."

"But why?"

"Because she was busy making sure everything was good for today."

"But why?"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "You know what, let's go eat that gingerbread. Then we'll go and get your Mama."

You wiggle happily all the way to the kitchen, where Mapi lifts you up onto the counter so you can have a breakfast of the gingerbread you and Ingrid made last night and so Mapi can stop you from running into their room before Ingrid is awake enough to function.

The cats come running in as soon as they hear the rattling of their dishes - though Garfield kind of lumbers in, far behind León-León and Bagheera but still manages to steal most of the food.

Mapi does a pretty good job of stopping you going for the presents until Ingrid finally gets up, a nice warm mug of coffee waiting for her and an overly excited child trying to shove some gingerbread into her mouth.

"Tha-Thanks, Cub," Ingrid laughs as she pushes away one of your sticky little hands from where it's trying to shove biscuit into her mouth," But I'm fine with my coffee."

"It's good," You say through your own full mouth and Ingrid laughs.

"I know because it was made by us, with lots of love." Ingrid kisses the tip of your nose. "But really you should eat it all yourself."

"Really?"

"Really-really," Ingrid insists and you giggle, kicking your feet happily as you finally settle on her lap, sprinkling gingerbread crumbs everywhere as you move.

Garfield, as he always does whenever there's food to spare, comes ambling over to eat them all up.

Usually, Ingrid would scold him but Mapi's coming over with presents and she decides that even the cats can get away with things they usually wouldn't today.

"Are you ready for presents?" Ingrid asks, bouncing her knee so you burst into a round of giggles.

"Presents!"

Mapi and Ingrid exchange triumphant looks as you tear open your presents.

Your new ID necklace is placed snugly around your neck immediately, ready for in case you get lost during the walk your mothers have planned later that day.

You take great delight in placing your new yellow digger with all of your other construction toys in the corner of the room next to your little wooden set of tools.

"Mama! Mami! It's CAT!"

It's truly a surprise how many CAT themed things the club has managed to make in such a short amount of time. It's even more surprising just how much stuff they can buy for so cheap a price with their team member discounts.

But, perhaps the most surprising of all is how much the club was willing to just straight up give to them in return for just a few pictures of you with CAT the mascot.

It's not shocking to the staff and fans alike who the biggest CAT fan is and, while you do regularly appear on Mapi and Ingrid's Instagrams, it's a rarer feat to see you featured on the team's.

But, with just three pictures of you with CAT and a very cute video of you nearly taking the mascot of their feet in an attempt to hug them, Mapi and Ingrid received a bundle of CAT merch in return.

"It is CAT," Mapi laughs," It's a t-shirt with CAT on it!"

"And a keyring! And a new mug!" Ingrid continues as you rip open your presents, getting more and more excited the more CAT things you see.

"CAT's my second best friend," You tell Mapi and Ingrid earnestly in the next hour as you all take a nice walk together through the park.

"Oh, yeah?" Mapi says," And who's your best friend?"

"You and Mama," You reply.

"Oh, cub," Ingrid coos," That's so swe-"

"And Bagheera and Garfield and León-León."

Mapi laughs. "There it is."

[wilwheaton]

hello mr wil wheaton when you were my age (like exactly i think) you were filming stand by me

I turned 13 during production, so if you're about to become a teenager, I hope you'll let me offer some thoughts that I wish an adult had shared with me, then?

I know this is a wall of text, and giving someone this much of your attention is a HUGE ask. Maybe bookmark this for another time, if you're not into hearing an old man talk.

I wrote this a few days before I turned 50. Thank you in advance for listening, and I wish you a life filled with joy, unconditional love, kindness, and adventure.

Hey everyone! An old man is talking!

In seven days, I will be 50 years-old. This is ... weird. I do not feel the way I expected I would feel when I was approaching 50, nor do any of my friends. The only time I feel like I'm middle-aged is when my body does some bullshit that takes me down for hours because I had the nerve to stand up quickly. And I really hate it when I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see a menu. I mean, at that point, I may as well be dropping my pants for free and singing the Old Gray Mare.

Anyway. This has been on my mind for a little bit, so I had something to say when someone used my tumblr ask me thingy earlier this week:

Q: I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm 49. I'd like to think I'm taking the right steps towards that version of myself. A: So I'm not sure I'm cool, but I do know that I don't suck, and that it's a choice I make every day. I desperately wish someone in my family had told me, or shown me by example, that getting older doesn't mean getting stupid and boring and stuffy and extremely uncool. I wish I'd known that, because I spent all of my life until I was in my 40s feeling like there was this day coming very soon when I would have to stop listening to punk, stop playing video games, put on a suit, and start yelling at kids for no good reason. I didn't know that you don't have to suddenly stop being who you are and become something or someone you hate, just because of a certain age. I know that's super obvious, but to young me, it was not. My dad was an asshole, my mom never showed up for me. Directors and people on set had been treating me like a thing for my entire life. I got yelled at for no reason from adults who knew better almost every day. Most of my elementary school teachers were authoritarian, evangelical assholes. All of these different adults, consistently, shut me down and made me feel like I didn't matter, the things I liked were stupid, and my opinions were invalid because of reasons I didn't understand because I was a dumb kid. So I presumed that when you got to be a certain age, that's what happened. I didn't want to be that, at all, and I was sincerely afraid of the day it would happen. But as I got older, I discovered that all that stuff I hated about adults doesn't automatically happen. Those adults I just mentioned all made a choice to be an asshole. I just didn't know it. I was in my early 20s when I did a movie with a cinematographer who was, I think, 45 at the time. He was the coolest, kindest, most artistic dude I'd ever known. He mentored me and we had epic fun making great art together. I remember telling him, "I'm not afraid of being in my 40s like I used to be. I didn't know you could still be cool." It's sad, that I grew up in such a toxic environment, and didn't know any of these things. So, 9 days before I turn 50, here are a couple things I have figured out: You know who sucks when they hit 49 and 50? People who sucked when they were 20 and never grew up. You know who is an asshole at 49 and 50? Yep. Someone who was an asshole as a kid and never experienced consequences for being an asshole. Hitting middle age has been awesome for me. Other than the aging of my body and its reluctance / refusal to do what I want it to do, I love everything about it. I wish I hadn't spent so much of my life being afraid that, when I hit 50, it was all over. Because honestly it's kind of just starting. The coolest stuff in my life to date has all happened in the last ten years, and I'm so grateful that it coincided with me figuring out a lot of shit so I could enjoy it.

The best part of getting older, by several thousand light years, is the part where we figure out how to stop putting up with other people's bullshit, and we contract our social circle until it's only populated with a VERY few people who deserve us. And I am incredibly grateful for these occasional opportunities to be a 49 year-old dad who can say all the things that would have been reassuring for 19 year-old me to hear (he wouldn't have understood, but 29 year-old me would have remembered, and he would have understood. I think.) I sincerely hope someone hears it and finds it helpful. Anyway, you're gonna be fine. Just remember that being cool, kind, honest, honorable, reliable, listening and showing up … they are all choices. If you want to be cool when you're 49, make the choice and set the example for someone to follow you. Treat kids the way you wanted to be treated when you were young. Listen to them when they offer you the privilege, because that means they trust you, and you have credibility with them. Be a mentor. Be supportive. Show up. Make a choice to be the person you need in the world, and never stop being that person. Start today, and when you're nearing 50 like I am, hopefully you'll remember who you needed right now, so you can be that person to someone else in the future. You're already asking the right questions and taking the first steps. I believe in you. You've got this.

Okay, if you've come this far, perhaps you'll follow me a little bit more, and read a thing I wrote about talking to students just a tiny bit older than you, which contains my core values.

Be honest. I’m a very old man, relative to y’all, and I’ve learned that the only currency that really matters in this world is the truth.

Be honorable. This dovetails with number one. You attract to yourself what you put into the world. Dishonorable people will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. Do your best to be a person they aren’t attracted to.

Work hard. I don’t mean, like, at your crappy minimum wage job you hate. I mean do the hard work that makes relationships work, that gets you ahead in your education, that gets you closer to your goals. Everything worth doing is hard. Everything worth doing requires hard work. Sooner or later, you’re going to run into something in your life that’s really hard, and you’ll want to give up, but it’s something you care so much about, you’ll do whatever you can to achieve it. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be less hard for someone who has practiced doing the hard things all along, than it is for someone who doesn’t know how to do the hard work because they’ve always chosen the easy path.

Always do your best. Even if you don’t get the result you wanted, doing your best — which will vary from day to day, moment to moment — is all you can ever do. We tell athletes to leave it all on the field. Whatever your version of that is, do it.

This is the most important one. This is the one I hope you’ll all hear and embrace. This is the one I hope you’ll share with your peers: Always be kind.”

When I read number 5, I looked up at them. I was so happy to see a classroom filled with teenagers who were all listening intently, even the ones I thought had tuned me out. “Here’s the thing about being Kind, versus being Nice,” I said. “I have interacted with lots of nice people who are incredibly unkind. Why is that? How do you choose to be nice but not kind?”

I pointed to my head. “This is where nice comes from,” I said. Then, I put my hand over my heart. “This is where kind comes from.” I put my hands out, like, “get it?”

There was this collective gasp of realization that I did not expect, at all. One kid said “Oh damn!” I saw a few kids look at each other like the trick had just been explained to them. They heard me. They really, really heard me. And it was amazing.

Okay, that's all. If you're still here, thank you for giving me so much of your time and attention. I hope you'll come back in a few years, and let me know how you're doing.

[simpjaes]

req by 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anon: im also back on my enhypen with two girls bullshit and today’s thought, featuring frat jake, is playing something like truth or dare at a party (i know, i know 😭) and he dares you to make out with jay’s girl .. i don’t mean to make him look like a weirdo but i have the feeling he’d like to watch (like… i think he’d be into lesbian porn….) 🤕

wc: 1k

tags: perv frat jake (definitely likes the idea of watching two women, it's fiction so he's allowed to be weird here on simpjaes), cuck-ish jay, drunk truth or dare, detailed descriptions of making out with a hot nameless girl, implied further sexual gameplay.

"Truth or dare?" Jake is practically crawling in his skin at this point, having hyped himself up for the past ten minutes in game waiting for the questions and dares to become just flirty enough that he doesn't look like the weird one.

After all, it's a fucking frat party. No one is playing truth or dare without the idea of someone either getting naked or fucking at some point by the end of it. At least when all sexes are involved anyway.

And he's looking at you when he asks. You smile mischievously, the alcohol in your system buzzing to the point you feel warm, confident, social, and fucking giddy at playing this game with him.

It's the first time you've been personally invited to one of these infamous frat parties too. Always hearing about the crazy nights and insane antics people get up to in this very house. You weren't exactly expecting to be in what you presume to be Jake's room with one of the other frat guys and his girlfriend either.

Still, in your drunken state, you feel flirty and excited to finally be invited. After weeks of small talk with Jake, you were starting to think he was just being nice. Until you were invited anyway. Until you noticed him sharing consistent side-eyes with his frat brother.

"Dare." You announce boldly, tipping back your cup and finishing off the drink before grabbing at Jakes. He happily lends you his cup while simultaneously stealing Jay's instead.

"Dick." Jay scoffs, tapping his girl's leg and pushing her from his lap (previous dare). "Gonna grab a few bottles before the game gets good," Jay continues, looking Jake square in the eye with a smirk. "Any requests?"

You, Jake, and Jay's girlfriend all offer up a "anything strong" before Jay sees himself out. Only for a moment, you suspect.

And when the door is closed and Jake is sitting, staring at two pretty drunk girls, all he can do is beam that charming ass smile at you before chuckling.

Jay would definitely be annoyed that he's not gonna wait for him to get back, but whatever. "Dare, you say?" Jake says in a half-hearted voice of concern. "You sure?"

You nod happily, sipping the last of the stolen drink and looking to your new friend, Jay's girl.

"Make out." Jake drops the words on you like it's nothing at all to be shocked at. And in a way, it's really not.

Again, frat party, drinks, whatever.

"With who?" You ask, silently and excitedly preparing yourself for him to present himself to you by tapping his lap or something much like Jay did previously for his girl.

But, well, you're not Jake's girl. As much as you'd very much like to be the arm candy of the most charming frat boy you've ever met. And he's not presenting himself.

You watch as his eyes shift from you to her. Back and force twice before that charming smile turns into a bottom-lip tugged between his teach.

"With each other. Make out." You look to her with a smile, entirely willing to put on a show considering she's very pretty. If she's down, so are you. And not entirely for the pleasure of Jake, or anyone else for that matter. Her lips are pretty, and her voice is tender. Quite cute when you watch her, drunk out of her mind but still entirely sweet like candy. She lends you a nod, cheeks flushing but licking her lips all the while as if to gloss them up for you. And so, you do, crawling across the floor of Jake's bedroom just to brace your hands on her shoulders and lean in to kiss her square on the lips. Her eyes beam up at you when you pull back with a cheeky smile, only to dip back in once more, twice more, and then you slide your hands to her jaw on either side of her face and really get in there.

Licking into her mouth, feeling her hands grip your waist and wildly run up and down up until she's blatantly grabbing your ass as she kisses you back with those sweet-alcohol tasting kisses.

"Holy shit." Jay's voice echoes through your ringing ears as you kiss his girlfriend, but you don't stop. Especially when she chuckles into the kiss and only pulls you closer, into her lap by the ass as she skews her head to kiss deeper.

"Check that shit out." Jake says, breath caught in his throat because truly, no matter how many times he sees two girls do this kind of thing in front of him, he can't fucking help himself. "Fuck yeah."

It's so hot for him to see two pretty girls, all breathless with their wet lips and pussies sitting so close together. Damn. Who care's if it's Jay's girlfriend? By the looks of it, Jay seems entirely into it too. And for a minute, you almost forgot that this was a dare. So, you pull back with a gentle smile at her. Landing one more kiss to her nose before scooting back and off of her lap. She looks at you through dark eyes after the act. As if the two of you are no longer just acquaintances, and you choose to take note of that for later. Surely you'll be seeing her again. Only after you've sat back and grabbed a new drink did you take note of the two men in the room. Jay appears to be a bit more touchy with his girlfriend now, you watch him pinch and pull at her with a drunken smile and little hidden whispers before you turn your attention to Jake.

God, you've heard of how fun the guy is. But fucking hell he's shameless. You see the bulge in his pants and the way he spreads his legs out wide with that smile on his face. Only briefly do you note the way he lays his hand across his lap, gently rubbing his knuckles along the length of his hidden cock before he speaks with a new voice.

"Come, sit." He croaks, voice deeper and almost velvety as he uses that same hand to tap his lap. "It's your turn babe, make it good." He follows up after you do exactly as he says, right against your ear, breath fanning your neck. And you can feel the way he intentionally twitches under your ass as a form of encouragement. And of course, you do make the next round even better than the last.

[stillwaterinc]

i have nowhere to put my batman thoughts so they’re going here

jason comes back as the red hood, planning to take out his little replacement or at least hurt him bad enough that he drops the suit and lets robin die but suddenly, a month before his plan is to start, robin disappears. and so does the joker.

what? jason looks, he scours security cameras and internet forums, even weasels his was into the gcpd’s files and…

nothing. there’s nothing.

no bodies reported, joker’s not in arkham or black gate or any other prison, he hasn’t finally been given the death penalty he just. disappeared.

he can’t find anything on robin either, or tim drake, for months until he stumbles upon a nearly perfect patient file in some hospital records.

nearly. it’d be perfect to anyone else but jason, even years later, can recognize bruce and barbara’s finger prints all over it. it’s a cover. a cover for what though? he reads through the file, tim drake’s file, presumably and finds… well.

someone clearly tortured the kid, and with the meds he was being prescribed it got to him. it would’ve gotten to anyone.

jason shudders reading the initial injury report. electric burns, lots of them, are what catches his eye the most but there’s all kinds of stuff. what catches his eye the most though is the lacerations that had to be stitched either side of the kid’s mouth. shit.

he doesn’t get the full picture, not yet, but pieces are starting to come together. the joker has been missing for a while, just a little longer than jason’s replacement has been in the hospital for some violent injuries.

the joker is missing.

tim drake is in the hospital.

something happened, clearly. the joker did something to tim, something awful, something bad enough that the joker disappeared and the kid’s been in the hospital for weeks.

bruce didn’t make it in time, only this time robin wasn’t dead, he’d been broken.

someone had gotten to robin, to tim drake, before jason could, had gotten to him so badly that even after he was released he wasn’t robin anymore.

not because he didn’t want to be, a few bugs here and there in the manor let him know that much, but because bruce wouldn’t let him.

it comes out, in one of these arguments, that time killed the joker. shot him dead. and jason almost wants to congratulate the kid for it, or wants to strangle bruce and ask him how the hell he let robin, who’s just a kid, tim, who’s just a fucking kid, get anywhere near a position where he had the means and desire to fatally shoot the joker.

because that’s it, isn’t it? the reason jason’s like this, doing this, is because of the joker. jason knows how to use guns because of the joker. he’ll never go to college like a normal kid because of the joker. and now tim.

tim wants to be robin, asks for it, begs bruce to let him back out in the suit and jason nearly finds himself agreeing with bruce. the joker’s gone sure but what if someone else tries the same thing? what if someone tries worse? being in the suit’s already gotten tim this much pain, why risk more?

it hits jason, one night, that he stopped being angry at tim a while ago. a long while. he can’t be angry at bruce either, because the joker is dead. there’s no one to enact vengeance for his death on anymore.

anyways most of my posts are about incest please don’t follow me for batman content

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Part One

No one asked for this, but whatever. Bite me. I’ll get to the asks, I swear

3,516 words

Part Two - Part Three

–-

The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. In a place like hell, where the worst of society sunk together and only somehow seemed to get worse, it was a good idea to not catch other people’s eyes. If their eyes were on you, it was almost never for a good reason.

So when you decided to start working, it made sense you would do something quiet and in the background like data filing for a large media company. While there were many more unsavory jobs that paid more, you wanted to avoid the obvious and dangerous crime life of hell as much as possible in your daily life. You had had enough of being unwillingly tied up in that kind of stuff when you were alive. You might as well spend your eternity in some type of peace, or at least as much as someone in hell can get.

So, you made sure you were presentable as you walked into Voxtekk on your first day to work, dressed simple business attire and keeping a quiet demeanor.

“There you are!” said who you presumed was your new boss, a short man with glasses and a blue hair dye, “Was wondering if you were going to show up!”

“Sorry,” you said, “The traffic was bad.”

“Well, you better get used to leaving early,” he said, “Traffic is always a bitch in this part of Pentagram City.”

He continued to speak as he led you to the elevator.

“So, I’ve been told you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing on earth,” he said.

“Yes, I did library work while I was alive,” you said.

And some smuggling. Especially with weapons.

You didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him that though. The job had come in handy though by giving you a knack for remembering where things were.

“Good, good,” he said, “I expect you’ll be able to figure out how to do this on your own then.”

He led you to a room that was filled with file drawers as well as a large computer off to the side.

“There’s thousands, if not millions, of files in here, both physically and digitally. It’ll be your responsibility to make sure that everything new brought in gets put in its proper place, as well as that anything that is requested can be easily found,” he said, “As the biggest media company in hell, it’s important that we know at all times where every piece of information or media can be located.”

It was overwhelming, like the world’s largest and most complicated library. It made your head spin a little looking at it all, but you always liked a challenge.

“You think you can handle it?” he asked.

You nod with some confidence, though you don’t quite feel it. This was going to take some getting used to.

“I hope for both our sakes you’re right,” he said, “Last filer I hired couldn’t tell left from right and Vox fried me to a crisp. Took me a good week before I was able to regenerate properly.”

Crap, that sounded bad. Note to self, don’t let that happen to you.

“I think I’ll be all right,” you said.

---

It was a bit overwhelming the first few weeks. You were competent enough to keep things in order though. Your experience was paying off, and you weren’t hearing any complaints or news about any assistants getting fried, so you supposed you were doing your job well enough.

Within two months of starting your job, you finally met the rumored big man himself. He had come in one day, visibly in a bad mood as he walked over to your desk, a man trailing behind him.

“I don’t know why I even pay you morons,” he said, “I have to hear important information secondhand from fucking Valentino because you can’t be bothered to keep up with what’s happening in hell.”

“Look, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not tell you,” he said, “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

Vox had stormed over to your desk.

“So you KNEW and thought it would be a good idea to just not tell me at all?” he said.

“T-that’s not it! I just-”

Vox held up a hand to interrupt him before turning to you.

“I want the file we have in here on Alastor,” he said, a static buzz of irritation on the last word, “Now.”

“Of course, sir,” you said.

You hurried over to the file cabinet and quickly located it.

“See, not everyone around here is as useless as you are,” Vox said to his other employee.

You saw the hapless employee mutter something under his breath out of the corner of your eye, and before you knew it a chain had appeared and Vox yanked him closer.

“What was that?” he said

“N-nothing, sir!” said the now visibly sweating employee.

A shock went through the poor guy before Vox released him.

“Useless,” he said, “You know what? I think you need some time learning exactly who is in charge around here.”

Vox pointed a clawed finger at you.

“You,” he said, “It’s your lucky day, kid. You wanna promotion?”

“Um… yes?” you said.

“Great. Samuel, have fun in janitorial work for the next decade,” he said, “You’re being replaced. What’s your name?”

“F/N,” you said.

“Hope you have customer service experience as well as filing,” he said, “You’re moving up to my office. Need someone with a functioning brain to run the front desk. Pack up!”

You hesitated for a minute before grabbing the stuff under your desk. You figured the last thing you wanted to do was piss this guy off more than he already looked.

---

Despite him being in such a bad mood that first day, you soon found that most of the time Vox was relatively calm, at least compared to what you heard about the other employers in this building. While he at times could get pretty irritated with things, especially if a certain never-to-be-named demon was brought up by an idiot intern, he rarely took it out on you. He usually took the daily bothers of running the company in stride.

Besides that, running a front desk of an office wasn’t too different than running the front desk at the library. You didn’t have to do near as much organizing in terms of files, but you still did spend a lot of time making sure that everything in Vox’s life was organized from his meetings to when he had lunch.

He didn’t talk much with you outside of work related stuff, which is why you were so surprised when you found out what he was doing one day.

It was a nice enough morning, at least as much as a nice morning can be in hell. You took a sip of your coffee briefly as you stretched and looked out your office window. While you missed the blue sky of earth, the red sky of hell had its own sort of charm you supposed. You glanced down, looking at the people walking back and forth, small as ants. Running around willy nilly. Someone was moving into the building that afternoon, a common occurrence here, as you had heard talk that Valentino liked to keep his employees in close quarters. Seems like they had a similar taste in furniture to your own. Almost frighteningly so.

Except… wait. Was that your sofa? And your dresser? Your bookshelves? You lowered your coffee to the windowsill as you squinted down at your entire catalog of furniture being moved into the building. Something wasn’t right.

You knocked on your boss’s door and entered in a bit of a rush as you heard him say to come in.

“Vox, what on earth is going on?” you asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“F/N, that could be ten different things. I need you to be more specific,” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he didn’t even look up from his phone.

“I just saw what I’m pretty sure was all my belongings being moved into the building,” you said.

“Oh yes, that. Well, I had wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s too late for that,” he said, somewhat absently, “I hate that you have to take such a long commute to the other side of town. And I know all the apartments there are so run down, I figured I’d just move you into the studio like a lot of our other valued staff.”

What? While it was true your apartment was kind of rinky dinky, it was yours. And you liked the privacy and soft solitude it offered after work. Besides, you didn’t like the idea of your boss just moving you willy nilly without your permission. Still, you didn’t want to show him you were upset.

“Vox, you don’t have to do this,” you said, “I’m ok with where I’m at. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Think of it as a courtesy as my secretary,” he said.

You could feel your entire face tighten as you got more frustrated. Some of it was probably starting to show, despite your best efforts.

“I never asked for this though,” you said, trying to tread carefully, “and I like my old apartment. I… I don’t really want this...”

“But you do want this,” he said, finally looking up at you, “You want to be in a nicer apartment, closer to work, safer, don’t you? You always want to be here.”

That… You supposed that was true. Something about his tone soothed you, sent a pleasant lull through your skull and made your body relax as he looked in your eyes. Your protests now seemed a bit foolish and childish. In all honesty, you supposed it just made sense that you move in to the studio. Everything you needed was here, truly, why would you want to live away from here? You did want a nicer apartment without the stressful commute.

“O-ok,” you said, a small uncomfortable feeling of doubt still in your stomach, “Yeah. That’s true. I do want to be here more… closer to the office...”

He smiled at that and walked over to you. He placed an arm around you, guiding you back to your own office.

“Of course you do! And besides I already had them move everything here, so why don’t you just go back to work, and they’ll have finished moving everything in by the time your shift is done,” Vox said, “I guarantee once you’ve had time to think it through you’ll be glad we did it.”

“If you say so,” you said.

As he walked you back to your desk, he continued his calming chatter.

“That’s a good girl. You and I both have a lot of work today, anyway, so I think we can agree that you should just focus on that for now,” he said as he nudged over to your desk.

You sat down and turned to the planner on your desk as you heard your boss walk into his personal office and closed the door. You just stare blankly for a good minute, feeling a little light, like you were on Zoloft before shaking your head back and forth. Might as well just go back to work. You could think more about this later.

---

It had been happening so slowly. One day, week, month at a time, Vox was implementing himself into your life inch by inch, despite the fact that the two of you weren’t bound on paper. He had moved you into the building, where you knew that you were almost constantly on camera. He kept you so loaded down with work you barely had a social life anymore, with no time to hang out with friends or date. The pay was ok, you supposed, but it felt minuscule compared to the amount of work he was expecting you to do on a daily basis.

And then there was the… weirder things that had been happening. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he had a way of getting you to forget about whatever it was you were upset about, at least for a little while. But it would always come back eventually, and as you thought about it more, it irritating you that he was dismissing your concerns.

You hadn’t really noticed it until he had gone on vacation for a week with the other Vees. You had been quite busy with work, but without him there to calm you down whenever your “concerns” came up, you realized that maybe you had let your priorities get a little askew. You needed a career change.

So, perhaps against your better judgment, a few days after he had returned, you had left a two weeks notice on his desk before he came in. It only took about fifteen minutes after he came in for him to summon you to his office.

“F/N? What is this?” he asked, holding out the letter.

“It’s my resignation,” you said, trying to sound steady and confident.

“I’m sorry… your what?” he said

“I-I regret to inform you that I will be moving out and relocating to the Doomsday Sector in two weeks,” you said, “I appreciate all that you’ve done here for me as I worked here, but I am making a career change.”

He looked baffled for a second, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying before chuckling a little.

“No, you’re not,” he said, “You don’t want to leave he-”

“Stop!” you yelled out with more force than you intended.

As soon as he had started speaking that familiar fuzzy feeling had entered your mind, and you had closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want him talking you out of this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, as you reopened your eyes, but didn’t really look at him, “But I don’t want to talk about this.”

It was awkwardly silent for a minute.

“Is it a pay thing?” he finally asked, “Because that can be adjusted. You do good work. I certainly wouldn’t mind paying you more.”

“It’s not a pay thing,” you said, “It’s not anything. I-I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to go-”

“You’re not leaving!” he said, slamming his fist on his desk.

You jumped, a little surprised at his reaction. While you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, you hadn’t expected him to be so volatile. He was always so calm and collected that this kind of reaction to something so minuscule confused you.

“Vox, I know you like my work, but I think you’re overreacting a little bit,” you said.

“Overreacting?” he said, looking pissed, “Overreacting?!”

He grasped at the air, a look of surprise entering his face when no chain appeared. You look at him bewildered. Had he really just tried to…?

“Vox, we don’t have a contract?” you said, “Did you forget that?”

Had he really gotten so comfy with you that he thought that you were another one of his little pets? To hell with the two week notice, you were going today.

“I think I should go back to work,” you said.

He didn’t say anything as you went back to your desk. You finished filing information extra fast that day, doing a bit of a sloppy job. As soon as it was noon, you left for what appeared to be a lunch break, but you had decided was actually going to be your escape.

This situation was getting uncomfortable. You hurried to your room and haphazardly threw clothes and necessities into your suitcase. Anything you left behind on accident you would just have to replace. On a final note, you shoved your wallet into your back pocket and walked over to the door.

Except it didn’t open. The nob didn’t even turn when you yanked on it. You tried it a few times, to no avail.

“Dammit,” you murmured under your breath, and you pounded your fist on the door.

You were about ready to start kicking it when you heard a burst of static behind you. You turned to see your boss coming in through the camera system. While it had always been an eerie feature to your arrangements, it was a million more times so to see Vox using it to his full advantage.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked.

“I should be the one asking that,” he said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your damn business!” you said, “I don’t know what security you have on this door, but you better take it off now or-”

“Or?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to look tense as he gave you a self-satisfied smirk. You could feel your face flushing in a quiet rage as he spoke. Though you were hiding them behind your back, you could feel your fists clenching, as well as the shape of you mouth hardening.

“Vox, you are being ridiculous! We don’t even have a contract! I’m not bound to you, so you can’t keep me here,” you said.

He cocked his head at you, raising an eyebrow, “Oh really now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his tone only pissed you off more.

“Yes, really!” you yelled, “I’m not staying here. I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”

“And just how do you expect to do that?” asked Vox, “Jump out the window? I mean you could splatter yourself on the ground, but it’d be a bit rude considering I’ll have to send some unlucky interns to scrape you off the pavement and put you back in your room until you regenerate.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and clenching and unclenching your hands with an unnecessary amount of force. You tried to calm your voice down.

“Vox, I understand that you like the work I do for you, but you’re being ridiculous,” you said.

“You think this about work?” he said, “F/N, don’t act stupid. I can get a new secretary anytime I want, ten secretaries. You and I both know that’s not what this is about.”

You looked at him confused. It wasn’t?

“For someone who is so smart with data, you are being so unbelievably slow right now.”

He advanced on you, causing you to shrink against the frame of the door as he leaned over you. He pushed you against the wall and gripped your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. It all happened in a flash, too fast to register, and before you could realize it, he was pulling you into a rough kiss.

It wasn’t what you had expected, though it wasn’t as if you had thought a lot about what kissing your boss would feel like. On the rare occasions when you had wondered about it, you had assumed kissing Vox would be like kissing the screen of a laptop. Apparently though, he had a literal working mouth as you could clearly tell from the sensation of his tongue and even teeth connecting with your own. Your chin ached in his firm grip, which could have been more tender if it didn’t feel like he was keeping you from turning your face away. You tried to do so, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, he was so preoccupied.

He held you like this for a good two or three minutes, his saliva coating your mouth. Though it was barely there, you could feel a slight buzz to it, as if some of his electricity was in his fluids. He finally released you though, some of his spit getting on your lips as he removed himself. A sigh filled the air as your lips parted.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” he murmured

He shifted a bit and was leaning in for another kiss when you kicked him in the shins.

“Ow!” he said, releasing you and giving you time to dart away.

You had moved in a burst to the other side of the room, glaring at him with what you hoped was resentment. There was also something else though. A feeling of deep rooted anxiety and fear was stirring in full force, despite the fact that over the past few months you had been pushing it down as much as possible. You hoped he couldn’t see the weakness in you.

Whether he did or not though, you could tell he was visibly pissed for a minute. He finally got his features under control, but as he spoke his tone held all of the avarice that had left his face.

“Whatever,” he said, “Contract or not, you’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere until you accept that. Throw a tantrum if you want to, but you’re stuck here.”

You watched as he went back into the camera system as easily as he had come. You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your arms.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Mythic Phantom

This is a little something I whipped up over a while thinking about merging the DP and Riordanverse universes together, and I thank @geraldmariaivo for helping me think my way through it. If you want the ao3 version you can find it here, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Most Underworld Gods felt it when Vlad’s current permanent Portal opened, but they all Felt it when Danny’s accident happened. A child’s death throes is hard to ignore after all. Pantheons world wide decided that was America’s problem, and Hel decided it was Persephone’s problem, and Haides felt it would close on its own. No gate to Khaos can stay open for long after all.

When Ember went globally live, Muses and Music Gods and Hypnos heard the way she sang, called out to the mortals to never be forgotten. Danny and Tucker dealt with her swiftly enough that she was remembered, noted even, but disregarded.

When the Fright Knight’s sword was drawn, many Fear Gods turned toward Amity, but Danny dealt with it swiftly. Most regarded it as an anomaly but Phobos and Deimos sent subordinate spirits to investigate the town and report anything interesting.

Hades and Persephone noted the invasion of Ghost Cops and saw that Danny had it handled in only a few days, which they would count as a quest fulfilled. Clearly, Amity Park was a contained issue, and the Master Bolt had gone missing by now so they have other things to deal with. The House of Life have some reservations but agree.

Then Pariah Dark got out, and the Gods scrambled to do something about that. In only a week however, He was dealt with too.  A closer eye was warranted. By everyone, not just the Observants.

Whoever these agents were, be they half-bloods or spirits or even minor gods, most wouldn’t see Young Blood and thus would fear Danny was losing it too. When he calmed down, they’d sigh in relief. The two future Ghost Villains who show up outside of the do-over would raise alarms at how fast ghosts can progress, but hey, it’s handled.

When the Hellenic spies are pulled back home for safety during the winter solstice, pleasantly surprised by Ghost activity dying down at the same time, Artemis and Luna, Khonshu and more felt something wrong happening as the Ghostwriter possessed the moon to speak.

When Duul Amon returned to the land of the living, the House of Life sent agents to the town, and Tucker Foley was immediately offered magic lessons. His is power over stone and steel, glass and gems, as well as an ear for the voices of machines. Between terrakinesis and technopathy, Tucker’s limits with his staff became only what he understood about technology.

Then entire copies of the Ghost Boy (Prince? King?) appear, attacking him, manipulating him for the elder, but he lets her go free after he’s rescued? Truly fascinating. Psychopomps keep an eye on Elle wherever she goes - she’s always very close to melting after all. The titan army also keep an eye on her, a powerful being both like and unlike the Gods, much the same as a Titan, Giant, or Monster.

Then the Reality Gauntlet is found by a mortal man, a rogue Magician, while the boy is busy trying to stop it and save the world, Lydia is keeping House of Life magicians and even Odin’s Ravens from finding Freakshow, so some Camp Jupiter heroes are being sent on a quest to deal with him. Then he gets the fucking gems and turns the world into a circus for 10 minutes.

Before the Boy tricks him, takes the Gauntlet, resets the world to before his identity was revealed to the world, (though perhaps not quite fooling the memories of Gods, who Are the world) and destroying the Gauntlet and gems in a single blast.

An artifact presumed by the Ghost Investigation Ward to be powerful enough to destroy the Infinite Realms, reduced to molten ash by one burst of power.

What to do about the young Phantom is a matter of discussion during the solstice meeting on Olympus.  Hades is sent to investigate the boy and finds that he is a godling of Kaos Themself, which sparks yet further debate on what to do when Artemis goes missing.

But then the Son of Hades stumbled upon Elmerton and witnessed a duel between Gods firsthand.

Danny Phantom faced off against Vortex, the ghost of all weather and sky and storm gods who had faded over the millennia, all on his own.  Even in defeat, Danny stole half of Vortex’s power, and less than a week later, he defeated the calamity that even two pantheons worth of gods could not.

The Titans would be horrible for humanity as a whole, and the Olympians were bad for half bloods as well.  Danny Phantom, however, could be just what most half bloods were after.  He needed training in mortal form, clearly, but that could be an angle for Nico to use.

[tofics]

Broken - Chapter 6

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes… Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he’ll never get.

Word Count: 3433 words

This chapter is very dark. Reader discretion is advised.

Warnings: violence (knife at throat, choking through knee on chest), clear intentions of killing, blood, clear mention of SA (usage of the r-word), panic attack, throwing up, cursing.

Chapter 6 - Nightmare Knocking On Your Door

"YOU." Spit flies from your lips as you scream into the man's face, foaming at your mouth. The knife you're pressing into his throat is already drawing blood, the blade pressed against the skin so tightly that it's being split open by the sharp edge. It's taking every ounce of strength in you not to slice him open right there and then.

You barely register his female companion crying out and staggering towards you before she's pulled out of your view. Then someone drops to their knees besides you. "Whoa whoa whoa, hey, why don't we put the knife away?" Tommy's voice is gentle, clearly meant to ease you down, but you only hiss in response, never taking your eyes off your prey.

You've waited so long for this moment.

You dreamt of it so many times; so many versions where the outcome is always the same: you, taking his life.

One Hour Earlier

Springtime in Jackson is nothing but beautiful.

Joel and you returned to Jackson a week earlier. Although your mission was unfruitful, you still came carrying gifts and trinkets. None of the ranches you hit up had any cows to offer, but a few of them still had quite a bit of resources scattered around to loot from.

Betsy received two relatively in-shape backpacks that you found, filled with all kinds of knick-knacks that can be helpful out in the wild.

The Tipsy Bison got a fresh batch of whiskey, found stashed away in what was presumably a 'man-cave' a long time ago.

The chalk, skipping ropes and board game you found went to the school where they're received with joy and excitement.

The thing you were most excited about though was a stash of Savage Starlight comics that you found in an abandoned library. When Joel told you about Ellie's love for them, there was no question that they'd be coming with you, weight be damned.

Ellie was ecstatic and wrapped you in a bear hug that made you all fuzzy and hurting inside at the same time. Despite the hurt, you hugged her right back.

Everyone else was grateful for their deliveries as well.

You've come to love this little town, there's no doubt about it. This place is as close to the old world as it comes, if someone put a spin on it and cranked up the equality setting. Everyone chips in, everyone gets something out of it. It actually fucking works.

It's always bustling, no matter the season, but now that the colors are changing from white and gray and brown to blue skies and green and specks of color here and there, provided by the odd early flower, it's almost something out of a fairytale. Some days you're convinced Snow White will come around a corner with a bunch of forest animals trailing behind her.

That's not to say life is easy. You're not delusional about the world outside of the town's walls, it's still an apocalyptic shit-show out there, run by raiders and infected. But it's out there and you're in here. In a community that looks out for its members. With a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and a warm bed to sleep in at night. That in itself is already more than you allowed yourself to dream of for the past twenty years.

And yet, somehow, as if you weren't already lucky enough, there's Joel and Ellie.

Ellie with her infectious smile and silly jokes and ruthless honesty that seems way beyond her years and Joel with his... Joelness. The quiet exterior that hides more than you could've ever thought and somehow got lucky enough to become privy to.

Your life is bordering on being too good to be true. That, you're certain of.

And yet you can't help but smile, all the damn time.

It's like not only Jackson is thawing out, but so are you. Something that was buried deep inside of you is slowly resurfacing, breathing more color and life back into you with every day that passes. It's the most wonderful and scariest feeling you've come across yet.

You're on your way to the stalls, admiring Jackson's spring attire when you hear the commotion near the gates. One of the guards is shouting something unintelligible, closely followed by the tell-tale sound of the gates slowly being opened.

This is strange for two reasons. One, it's too early for patrol to return - unless something happened. Two, the guards wouldn't be yelling to open the gates for patrol - unless something happened.

Joel's on patrol this morning.

Apple still in hand, your feet turn the opposite direction from the stalls. You're running by the time you arrive at the small plaza in front of the gates.

Please, please, don't let anything have happened to him.

You're not the only person the guard's shouts attracted. A small crowd has formed in front of the gates, obscuring them from your view. People at the front are muttering, but you can't tell by their tone whether what they're seeing is good or bad.

Please, not Joel. Please.

Your pulse drums in your ears as you push through the rows of bystanders.

Not him. Anyone but him.

He is the first thing you see when you stumble out of the crowd, up on his horse and alive, thank God. Your eyes roam over his body to check for injuries, but you can't find any. Instead, your eyes stop on the hands wrapped around Joel's waist from behind.

What the...?

Your gaze flits over to the second horse that's carrying Jeff. He appears to be healthy too, thankfully, but there is also a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

"Who'd they bring in?," a voice sounds from your right, and it finally clicks.

Oh. They brought new people.

It's crazy how quickly you can go from being the new one to being one of the people in the face of strangers. A multitude of thoughts run through your head in the few seconds it takes for the information to register in your brain, ranging from 'Thank God Joel's okay' to 'I wonder whether they'll fit in', never once considering the fact that you're now on the opposite side of where you were a few months ago when Joel brought you in on that very same horse.

To the left of you, Tommy weaves through the people watching the action unfold and walks up to Joel's horse. They exchange a few words and you see Tommy nodding, first to Joel, then to Jeff.

"I guess that means they get to stay. For now," the woman next to you mutters. "For now?" You raise an eyebrow at her. "What does that mean?" She turns to you with a mocking expression that quickly fades when she realizes that it's you. "Oh. Yeah, guess you wouldn't know. Council's gonna decide whether they're a good fit or not. If not..." She shrugs, the implication of the words unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you.

It's never occurred to you before, but of course a place like Jackson would have a system in place that decides whether or not people are a good fit for them. Just because nothing was ever explicitly brought up to you doesn't mean that you never went through a screening process yourself.

Joel's passenger is revealed to be a very pregnant woman when he slides off his horse with ease. How she was even able to hold on to him with a belly of that size between them is beyond you, but it also answers any question about why Jeff and Joel decided to bring them in.

You watch as Joel and Tommy awkwardly help her come off the horse. "Phew, looks like she's about to pop any minute now," the woman to your side comments, and you couldn't agree more.

She is lucky they found her when they did, you think as the woman puts her hands on her lower back for support, visibly stiff from the ride and the extra weight she is lugging around.

Opposite of the little trio Jeff jumps down from his four-legged companion and extends a hand out to his own passenger. His help is accepted and - thump - the second stranger sets their feet on Jackson's ground. Jeff pets them on the back and smiles, and although you're too far away to properly hear him, you can practically read the words on his lips: Welcome to Jackson.

From the frame of the person, you assume it's a man, likely the second half of DNA that's currently cooking in the woman's belly. He reaches for Jeff's hand and envelopes it in both of his. "Thank you, man, I don't know what we would have done without you."

A sizzling pain shoots through your body and immobilizes you.

You know that voice.

It's haunted you in your dreams for years.

You'd recognize it anywhere.

Jeff and the man move towards the other half of the arrival party and you watch, frozen in place, as the back of the head turns into a side-profile until you're staring into his face.

Him.

The face of the one person you hate most in this world.

The face of the monster that is responsible for your pain. For her pain.

The apple in your hand falls to the ground and lands with a soft thud, but you barely register it. Time seems to stand still as your eyes lock on him, that face you'll never be able to forget.

Bile is working its way up your throat and filling your mouth with the sour and bitter taste of pure, unfiltered hatred. Your vision blurs and refocuses multiple times, his face going in and out of focus as if your brain is doing repeated double-takes, unable to process what you're seeing.

Every single muscle in your body is on fire, screaming a thousand silent cries that are only matched by the high-pitched ringing in your ears, so loud and deafening that no other sound comes through.

I will kill you.

The sentence is so loud and so clear in your mind that it snaps your body back into reality and time resumes.

In front of you, they're being welcomed, hands are shaken and pats on the shoulders are given out. "Wanna bet on when she pops?," you hear from your right but don't waste a single glance.

Your eyes are locked on your target.

You watch in trance - or like a predator stalking their prey? - as the pregnant woman and her accompanying monster are welcomed with open arms into your community, your safe-space until he turns to Joel and shakes his hand.

"No. NO!," you screech and everyone turns towards you, but your legs are already carrying you forward, your hands finding the knife that you keep tucked in your belt on their own accord as you beeline for the source of all your misery.

You see him doing the mental math of placing you. The initial confusion, the recognition that wipes the smile from his face, and finally, the fear that spreads in his eyes.

Good. Fear me, for I will be your death.

Tommy, who is closest to you, tries to step into your path. "Hey, what's goin' o-," is how far he gets before you push him to the side and lunge forward.

He goes down hard, despite his large statue, your knife at his throat.

"YOU." Spit flies from your lips as you scream into the man's face, foaming at your mouth. Your knife is already drawing blood, the blade pressed against the skin so tightly that it's being split open by its sharp edge. It's taking every ounce of strength in you not to slice him open right there and then.

You barely register his female companion crying out and staggering towards you before she's pulled out of your view. Then someone drops to their knees besides you. "Whoa whoa whoa, hey, why don't we put the knife away?" Tommy's voice is gentle, clearly meant to ease you down, but you only hiss in response, never taking your eyes off your prey.

You've waited so long for this moment.

You dreamt of it so many times; so many versions where the outcome is always the same: you, taking his life.

Tommy is still talking to you, urging and soothing words mixing into a slurry background noise. You briefly make out Joel's name being called, but you block it all out, a tight wall coming down in your mind to shut it all out. Nothing and no one will take this from you.

"Not fighting back now, hm?," you pant and lick your lips. Your eyes flit back and forth between his, soaking up the fear in them like dry ground on a rainy day. "What, fight's gone out of you that quick?"

He doesn't reply, he just stares back at you, something unreadable behind the panic in his eyes.

"Fight back, you coward." You press the knife harder into his skin, drawing more blood. He winces but doesn't draw back, nor does he make any attempt to fight you off.

After what he did? After what he put her through?

Here he is, at your mercy, and he won't even attempt to fight back?

It makes you furious.

"I said fight BACK," you roar and shake him, fist buried into his jacket. He thumps back into the ground and his head comes down hard, but his hands remain stoically at his side, not moving an inch besides the fists his fingers have curled into.

Instead, he opens his mouth for the first time.

"I'm sorry." The words come out in a hoarse whisper.

It's so far from what you ever could have imagined him saying in a moment like this that for just a second, you're taken aback.

Then an even deadlier rage overtakes you.

You pull him up by his collar until your nose meets his nose. You stare into his eyes, making sure he truly sees you as you speak your next words.

"You don't get to say that to me," you hiss out between clenched teeth. "Not to me, when you should have said it to her, you fucking piece of shit!"

You slam him back to the ground and add a knee to his chest, pressing him into the dirt. It delights you, the way he's struggling to breathe under your weight. The fear in his eyes slowly grows into panic with every hitched breath he tries to take.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you live," you snarl.

He's panting now, wincing when you add more pressure on the blade at his throat.

"One good reason for why I shouldn't slice you open right here, right now."

The woman he came with screams at your words. It's shrill and piercing and filled with so much fear for him that you can only shoot her a quick look of pure disdain. How could she be worried about the life of a monster?

He holds your gaze and you can see it in his eyes, that slow shift from panic to begging, and you can't help but laugh. "Pah!" You spit onto the ground next to him. "That's what I thought."

You raise your knife to deliver the final cut that will take his life when he suddenly speaks again.

"She's alive," he sputters and heaves for air.

You freeze in your spot, knife hanging mid-air.

"Say that again." Your voice is low, threatening. He eyes the blade, then quickly looks back to you.

"She's alive."

You lick your lips as your eyes feverishly move back and forth between his, trying to detect signs of the lie you're sure you're being told.

"Hey," a low voice says next to you, the first one to get through to you since you've tackled this monster to the ground. "Hey," Joel repeats and you feel a gentle hand on your back, but you don't move, don't look away from the scum in front of you, frozen in action.

"What's going on?" Joel's voice is as gentle as the hand on your back, but you know him well enough by now to hear the concern in his voice, try as he might to conceal it.

He waits for your response, his hand burning on your back like hot iron. A few moments pass as the thoughts race through your brain.

"Why should I believe you?," you finally spit out.

His response is as simple as it is logical. "What do I have to lose?" His voice is raspy from the lack of air in his lungs. "Why should I lie to you, when you would kill me anyway?"

Your breathing is almost as labored as his. Your pulse is drumming in your ears, drowning out your thoughts and making it hard to think. Next to you, Joel says your name.

"Location." It's a clear order from your lips.

"I don't know." The words are barely out of his mouth when you respond with a croaky laugh, ramming him into the ground once more.

"You filthy piece of shit, of course you don't. Because you're lying." You raise your knife again, but then your arm is obstructed, caught mid-way by a strong hand.

"Joel, let go," you hiss but he doesn't budge, just shakes his head. "Not like this. Not here." He cocks his head at the crowd that's gathered around you and you realize everyone's eyes on you for the first time.

No. No, this is all wrong.

"You don't know what he did," you cry out, suddenly desperate to make him understand that you have to do this, that no matter what, you can't let him just walk away, not after what he did to her.

"You'll tell me. He won't get away." Joel's free hand gently wraps around the knife in your hand. "Ain't that right, Tommy?"

Your vision is starting to swim at the bottom as tears are flooding your eyes. Joel's gaze stays locked on yours, his eyes communicating more to you than his words ever could in this moment.

Trust me, they're saying, and despite every instinct in you screaming at you, you feel your hand releasing the knife.

"I got you."

Joel's eyes never leave yours, not when he gives the knife to Tommy, not when he gets up and lifts you with him, not when both his hands wrap around your elbows and lead you away from the scene, from the crowd, from him.

"Tell me what I need to know."

You're behind the town hall, just far enough to be out of sight and earshot of what's happening in front of the gates. Joel's hands are still on you, though whether he's keeping them there to keep you here or to steady you, you're not sure.

He's watching you intently, waiting for you to offer up an explanation, but the words are getting stuck in your throat, too thick and heavy and laced with pain to come out.

A sob breaks through your panicked breaths and you tug on your arms, wishing to be loose so you can pace about, but Joel won't let you.

"Tell me, babygirl. Tell me what I need to know." His voice matches the urgency in his eyes and another shrieky sob escapes you.

"He did that to her," you finally press out, a whispery shriek that cuts through your chest like a hot knife through butter.

"Did what, baby?" Joel coaxes you, his voice soft but serious, concern etched into his eyebrows.

Tears are running down your cheeks as images of the worst moment in your life flicker across your vision, the monster's grin taunting you like a horror mask as he's hunched over her, his hands digging into the flesh on her hips like she's not made of flesh but of dough.

The bile comes up so quickly that all you can do is turn your head to the side before it shoots out of your mouth. You vomit into the bushes, one of Joel's hand rubbing your back while the other holds your hair, soothing sounds coming from his lips that do little to stop your stomach from emptying all its contents into the green foliage.

You let yourself slide to the ground when there's nothing left to vomit up anymore, breaths heavy and sharp in your ravaged throat.

"He raped her, Joel. He raped my babygirl. Right in front of my eyes."

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

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@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @orcasoul @foomoosworld @lilmizmoz @ashleyfilm

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No pressure tags, just thought you'd maybe enjoy the update: @shooting-hearts @peekyourinterest @chaandii @karaslqve @jessthebaker

[grlsinterrupted]

the right side of my neck still smells like you 𖦹˙—.

holding onto the memories of soda | sodapop curtis x gn ! reader ⋆⭒˚. -

no matter how many sheep you count or how many melatonin pills you take, the memory of sodapop still lingers on your mind with no intent of escaping soon. you’ve tried everything in the book— from burning the pile of polaroids you took on your first date with him to drinking at the expense of your liver, you were still constantly reminded of what once was. sodapop was everywhere. even if he wasn’t physically there, every single inanimate object you encountered and every inch of town brought back the memory of your relationship with him.

you let out sigh, turning yourself to the other side of your bed as you desperately try to get yourself at least a wink of sleep tonight. right at the bottom corner of your bed was soda’s favorite flannel, the sleeves stained with your tear marks. the color of the plaid reminded you of the lipstick shade he always managed to kiss off. to him, it was one of his most prized possessions— he loved the way the color went with everything he wore, but he especially loved the way the sleeves practically drooped over your hands when you wore it. to you, it was just another item you needed to return the next time you passed by the curtis residence.

you sit up, wiping your sleepless eyes with one hand, the other reaching for the flannel. it felt as though even slightly brushing your hand against the flannel sent a rush of nostalgia through your body. the sound of his laugh, the way his eyelashes fluttered against his icy blue eyes, the way he held you after a nightmare— all of it came back to you like greased lightning. even his scent was sewn into the fabric: cigarettes, sandalwood, and amber.

your arms slip through the sleeves of his flannel for one last time, longing to re-live the way soda would wrap his arms around you and lift your feet up in the air. you run a hand through your locks, sliding off the edge of your bed and grabbing your house keys. maybe this was your chance to fix everything, to rewrite your history with soda. he was the only person that could fill the void in you that opened up once the two of you ended things.

here you were, standing in front of the curtis household’s door with your pajamas on, your hair pulled back into a tousled updo, and soda’s flannel being the only thing providing you at least a bit of warmth in the frigid dusk. your hands trembled as you knocked on the door with too many thoughts running through your mind with so little time between your knock and someone actually answering the door.

darrell answers the door with a stern expression.

“y/n, didn’t expect you to be here,” he clears his throat, shoving his hand in his pocket. “soda’s in his room, but pony’s asleep, so don’t wake him.”

you nod, heading inside and making your way towards soda’s room.

“soda?” you called his name out.

soda opens the door to his room, his eyes just as restless as your’s were. the dark circles under his eyes had gotten progressively more and more prominent, the puffiness of his eyes presumably from all of the tears he’s poured out of him. his heart sinks at the sight of you.

“it’s late, what’re you doing here?”

you slip off his flannel, handing it over to him. “i came to, uhm, give you this.”

he takes the flannel, pursing his lips into an almost forced-like smile. “been looking for this for a few weeks, y’know,” he lets out a humorless chuckle. you inhale, and before you know it, all of the words come out like word vomit.

“i can’t do this anymore. i just- i just can’t. everything reminds me of you, and no matter how hard i try, i can never let go of you. i miss your touch, i miss how you would comfort me, i miss the way you remember all the little things about me that even i can’t remember, and i just miss you. i miss you so bad that it physically hurts, and whenever i think about you i just-“

soda interrupts you, firmly planting his lips onto yours. he slowly pulls away from you, rubbing your jaw with his thumb as he stares into your eyes. this time, his smile is far from forced— it’s the kind of smile that holds all of the love in the world, and all the love in his world is for you.

‘you looked back at me once, and i looked back 2 times..’ .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

-

[mychapel-004]

something i've been thinking about post-portal fiddauthor

this could entirely be something i've just missed people discussing, but i haven't seen anyone mention before how this motel:

(presumably the place fiddleford relocates to after being kicked from the blind eye and having his memories taken)

is incredibly similar to the only other motel we see mentioned in the journal:

arguably twin bed motel is just a reference to twin peaks, or back to the future, or just the twins themselves, but honestly? the two seem like they could be the same motel. they're both out in the woods, surrounded by forest (presumably near route 14 and the truck stop ford has been frequenting) with pine tree motifs, and they're both out there in the snow. ford stays there for one night multiple weeks after the portal incident, sometime at the end of january or start of february, and fiddleford is there somewhere between day 189 and day 273.

that might seem like it puts a bit of a wrench in it, because it seems like fiddleford couldn't have been there at the same time if it has been 273 days since the portal incident, but this just adds to the theory that fiddleford is lying in his initial video diary and is filming the first four entries while still working with ford (which i want to make a post about if anyone is interested, i have a lot of evidence). so, with that theory, it is plausible that they are at this same motel at the same time, especially when you consider that neither ford nor fidd have a car at this point. ford's was destroyed shortly after he moved to GF by steve, and he seems to travel solely on foot since then, and fiddleford assumedly stops driving after day 189 when he accidentally hits another car on the road and breaks his arm. how many motels are accessible on foot in this area in the snow?

so two men, both tormented and driven to their limit by the same creature, the same project, unable to escape very far without transport end up in the same motel for one night weeks after their partnership fell apart. ford doesn't even make it inside, he collapses in the parking lot staring at the sign, thinking of the only person in the world who he could trust anymore. he says it himself, "F is nowhere to be found", "if only i had listened to him when i had the chance", but in reality fiddleford was metres away, holed up in a dingy room he rented with the last of his money, driving himself mad with paranoia.

the worst part is arguably that the video diary that takes place in the motel is the first one where we see the start of mcgucket vs fiddleford. his voice is pitchy and anxious, he's rambling about seeing something he didn't understand, he's hunched and scared and tearing out his own hair. he's stopped using the gun, most likely having been thrown out of the blind eye by now, but his mind is gone for good and he's continuing to decline without even using it. if ford had known F was there, just behind a door, and tried to see him, he wouldn't have seen the man he knew. at this point, fiddleford was gone either way. he would have been completely unrecognisable.

in another universe did he find him? did fiddleford see him through the window and try to place where he knew this man's face from, why his chest hurt so badly looking at him slumped over outside his window? did they figure it out instead of slipping past eachother again?

just like the few moments he spent with stanley before the accident, he fumbles and blanks the people around him without even trying, and fails to see past his own goals into how they affect others. he doesn't understand stan's anger at being sent away again, doesn't see fiddleford's collapse even though he's seemingly become known in the community for his very public deterioration, destroys the possibility of anyone "understanding what he's up against" because time and time again he doesn't tell them.

he believes that he needs to keep this information to himself, save the research even though its dangerous, stop others from knowing or they might steal it, but at the same time he needs help so badly and he needs stan and fidd to finish his plans, both to build the portal and to stop bill. but he lets them walk in blind every time, refusing to share what he knows, all under the name of that sly piece of advice bill gave him, "trust no-one." even though, what bill really meant is "trust no-one but me".

arguably it's the same habit which leads to weirdmaggeddon, he doesn't tell anyone but dipper, the child he sees himself in, about the rift or about the truth of his relationship with bill. if mabel knew, she would never have given bill the rift, or felt left out enough to run and be vulnerable, which lends so much more to his character post-BOB, where he's finally opening up to the people around him. he's reunited with his family and fidd, they all know his embarrassing secrets and the things he tried to hide about himself, about him and bill. and it's okay. if anything it makes him more human, more flawed but more relatable. and at the end of it all, F is there, as forgiving and kind and understanding as he always has been, with no door in the way this time.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 14

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Everything about this, I'm just obsessed with this week's chapter art by @grumpytheunicorn

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation, There WILL NOT be any Miscarriages

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

Donnie entered the apartment first. You were close behind him and didn’t linger when he crossed straight over to his desk. He presumably had a lot of work to do both literally and mentally. The last 24 hours had been nothing, but whiplash for him and you didn’t mind giving him space.

He had one copy of the ultrasound photo and you had the other.

You looked over the black and white fondly from where you stood in the doorway. Your entire car ride back from meeting Dr. Kuro had been with a growing thought bubble. It had gotten louder and denser with each mile the car continued on.

You were pregnant.

You were finally pregnant.

You were downright ecstatic and finally allowed the idea to permeate all of your being. Though that was technically already true based on the embryo growing inside you, you were rocked by the chance to enjoy it, but squashed the idea of giggling. You were giving your mate time and tittered in your head. The only physical signs of your giddiness that you let manifest was your heart-shaped gaze at the picture of your bean and a hand that pressed low on your abdomen.

There was nothing there to feel yet, but you felt like there was. It was psychosomatic in your fervor and you currently didn’t care. You vaguely remembered Dr. Kuro giving you the timelines for trimesters, but the actual details of those were packed into the literature which weighed down your arm in what you considered a goodie bag.

Now was a good time to review those and Donnie’s desk would be the perfect place to lay all the pamphlets out.

You looked out toward there and found your husband’s silhouette against sleeping screens.

While he wasn’t using his computer, he was using the space as his hands flew over twin screens that he had laid against the desk proper as if he needed to match items between them. From here you could tell that they were calendars and you bet that was exactly what he was doing. It was his supposed neglect of notating dates that had gotten you to this point. With the many things he suddenly had to plan for, starting them all with the calendar made the most sense.

You let him be, but felt the urge to stay close and chose the kitchen. You had to wipe away a few crumbs, but the counter was soon clean enough and you propped your ultrasound photo up on a higher mantle before going to get the pamphlets. In no particular order, you carefully laid each tri-fold out in a row. There was a variety of details among them and you appreciated each; there was one about diet, one about exercise, one about your prenatal vitamin, one about bowel movements, one about stages of embryonic growth, one about things to expect in your first trimesters, and finally, one made by the clinic about mutant biology.

Dr. Kuro had been clear that the final pamphlet was technically out of date since you conceived.

You weren’t sure how you felt about that pressure. It had been an ongoing dialogue since you started trying to have a baby. Spencer had been the first to mention that if you were to get pregnant, it would be some kind of miraculous conception. Your pregnancy data was considered a valuable scientific marvel and, as much as Dr. Kuro said she was on your side, there was a growing expectation.

The world was either going to stand aside and sadly nod along if you lost the baby or you were going to be named in history books as the first human-mutant parent.

You cared about your child, not some ridiculous accolade.

You had never gone about trying to conceive with anything more than desire to have a baby. 

You had always wanted to live in peace with your beloved mate.

You left the mutant pamphlet and chose the one about embryonic stages. It was a literal action toward your metaphorical feelings on the matter. No matter what anyone tried to do, you were going to keep your pregnancy and everything related to it as average as possible. You were going to go through typical steps and started by observing a close comparison to them.

The growth guide that unfolded in front of you made you smile.

You touched the illustration of a blob at eight weeks and, unlike Dr. Kuro, this picture said your baby was the size of a raspberry. You grinned at that and read the few paragraphs above the picture. It encouraged healthy practices for growth and safety of the baby. From how harped the concepts were, you bet you were going to get sick of the mantra.

Propping up the growth chart right next to your ultrasound photo, you decided to read the diet and exercise pamphlets next. The first mentioned loads of vitamins which you cross referenced against your prenatal medicine. It seemed like everything lined up with the addition of your calcium pill. Your medication was currently being filled. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. who was also due to pick it up later and stop by for the supposed news even though you bet he was already peeping in the apartment.

You studied a list of low impact exercises that also kept you limber and thought about classes. There was a mommy walking group you had seen take off a few times near the gym and you wondered if you could join them. The thought had the notes in your hand loosen as you thought about change.

You would need to introduce yourself. 

You were about to tap an as of yet unknown pool of people. 

Would you need to make new friends? 

Most people found it difficult to keep old friends after having kids.

Something about how interests no longer aligned.

According to what you were looking at, you were going to be a fundamentally different person. Not just physiologically, but time wise as well. All the pamphlets strategically ended at birth and you knew there was a reason for that. There’d be a whole new set of things to learn when the baby came. Children were small helpless creatures that needed 24/7 care. That sort of all consuming attention took away time. You wouldn’t be able to keep up with shows or movies. You wouldn’t be able to eat out at the same places. You would need a sitter if you wanted to go out with your husband.

A tiny life.

There was a dire nature to how much your child would need you, but at the same time it came with the bubbly feeling it had before.

You were going to be a parent.

You already were thanks to S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. but he was grown.

You pictured him as a big brother taking his sibling.

Donnie fretting about S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s hold even though you knew your son would already have downloaded all necessary guides.

You bet, in that way, he could be a better caretaker than you.

He would also be the perfect pick for a babysitter.

He didn’t need to sleep.

He had all knowledge at his fingertips.

He was basically omnipotent.

You dispelled the thought.

You would talk to him about what sort of brotherly role he wanted to play. 

You decided you wouldn’t take advantage of him no matter how eager he was. 

It took a village, you reminded yourself.

Your friends loved you and Donnie. While none of your immediate friends had kids, you didn’t imagine any of them would hold that against yours. You had a feeling Kaleb would be stoked on how tiny they were and you perished the thought if anyone tried to cross your child with Coral around. You bet she had no qualms with knocking over a toddler bully and again you had to wrinkle your smile to keep from laughing.

You fought giggles by checking the fridge.

Your current stock wasn’t necessarily unhealthy, but you had a feeling you were in for a major switch with Donnie around. While Dr. Kuro  had brought up the concept, he had been clear that adjustments in eating were less about dietary change and more about making better choices. You needed to think about what fed through you and to your growing bean. That meant sweeping through preservatives and other hidden ingredient list items. You would need to grocery shop and Donnie probably had meal prep plans in mind.

You peered over the counter at your husband and found him looking very similarly to how he had before, but at a new angle.

His head was no longer down, but those calendars were still laid out in front of him.

He looked to have forgotten them as he was now looking up.

At first glance he seemed to be looking at the blackened monitors, but his gaze was slightly tilted.

Clipped between the dark screens was clearly your ultrasound photo.

You could see both from his visage and the reflection in the monitor that he was staring at it with overflowing love and affection.

You felt the same and were moved.

You tossed the folded cardstock aside and rounded the counter. Your action was enough to catch his eye and his head pivoted to you. You watched that glowing affection taper off. It slowed your progress as reality seemed to crash around your husband and he returned to adjusting calendar items.

You utterly deflated and stood in stasis just a few feet from him.

It was you then.

Your monumental upkeep to produce his progeny was a distraction.

The negativity of the thought made your eyes widened and you blew out the bitter steam. You weren’t sure where that came from, but you now wandered closer to your mate because you were uncomfortable. He moved little as he continued to take notes and you pressed into his back for the sake of it. A mental levee was lowered and you let your anxiety leak through your bond. It washed over your partner with an immediate effect and he moved straighter against your press.

He was around you in an instant. “Darling?”

That darkened thought sounded again about how he only worried now.

You squashed it with a reminder that he couldn’t know you were upset unless you made him aware.

“A lot to think about.” You chose to say.

Donnie nodded and examined your bundle in his arms.

“I have a feeling I know, but what are you thinking about…?”

“Tasks.” He dipped his beak into your head to bury himself in your scent. “Analyzed by importance.”

“There’s a lot to do.”

Donnie nodded.

Negativity about where you landed on that list rose as bile for a third time and you pushed against your husband’s plastron.

He released you with growing wariness.

“Brain’s bad.” You told him and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

“Concerning.” He supported your elbows cautiously. “I won’t try to understand your position.”

“Hm?” You opened your hands up to peek at him.

“A baby…” He murmured and looked down your body. “The dangers to them, the dangers to you, all that will occur. Pregnancy. Birth. I won’t comprehend.”

“Oh.” You lowered your arms into his hold. “You’re saying you won’t do the whole, ‘I get what you’re going through’ thing?”

He nodded.

“Not what I was worried about…”

He popped a concerned vowel.

“This may sound like a weird time to ask but… you still…” You grappled with the words and found yourself prone to them. “… love me…?”

He lit with so much fear that it burned your finger through your wedding band.

He hoisted you up into his arms before you could complain. 

“Y/N...! Where did that…!?” He gave an animalistic snort to clear his head. “Pardon. Yes. Of course. Without doubt, fail, or interruption. My love for you is endless.”

He immediately soothed you and you felt bad for the bubble of doubt.

You squirmed against him until you could hug his head tightly and buried your face into the top of his mask.

“Sorry.” You mumbled there.

“Don’t be. Reassurance.” He reminded you. “I am alarmed by the timing.”

“How so…?”

“I can only imagine this is connected to insecurity regarding our young?”

“That makes it sound like we’re having more than one…” You lifted from him.

His expression appeared as staunchly troubled.

 You pet his cheeks.

He frowned further.

You kissed his head once and relented with a soft sigh. “It is the timing.”

He made a knowing noise.

You pursed your lip slightly. “Not because I’m pregnant though.”

It was the first time you had said it.

It was the first time he had heard it said.

You stared at each other even though you already had clear confirmation and let the importance of the moment sink in.

He then returned to his worries and his brow wrinkled.

You ran your fingers over the drawn on marks.

“You were crushed when I wasn’t before and I couldn’t help. I was there, but it wasn’t something I could fix…”

His head tipped a little as he watched you.

“I felt… helpless. I know you said I helped, but…” You let your eyes close and took a breath before continuing. “Now we have so much to do for the baby and I can’t help, but think I’m… in the way? I don’t know exactly, but I guess… maybe I’m jealous? That sounds terrible, but…?”

“Incorrect. Wrong.” He blurted out before he seemed to realize that obvious reason wasn’t comforting. “Y/N, this is only possible because of you.”

You shifted in his hold and felt a thought percolate about how you were nothing but a vessel.

He felt your concern and set you down to pour over you. “This is difficult.”

“Yeah…” You scrubbed a hand over your face. “Yeah.”

“I would not be able to entertain these thoughts without you.” He tried again.

You watched him and weren’t sure if that was better.

Distress leaked across his features.

You frowned along with him.

“Okay.” He announced as if to reset. “I imagined my life alone.”

That garnered a bit of a smile. “You don’t have to go that far back…”

“I might.” He relented a little and leaned further into you.

You reached up and caught him for a hug.

He sank further into you and just barely offset his weight.

You giggled against him.

He nuzzled into your neck and nipped at your chin.

It brought more gaiety.

“In no other circumstance would I bring a child into this bleak world.”

You blinked up where your vision had gone to the ceiling.

That was a new take.

You weren’t sure how you felt about that either and squeezed him out from your throat. “Donnie…”

“You gave me hope for existence. That there was more. That I had a hand in its contribution. That our boundless love invites the same. Faith that I could be a suitable father, though I still believe otherwise.”

“I seem to remember thinking neither of us could be good parents...”

He bobbed to slight attention.

He frowned.

His cheeks puffed out the slightest amount then he returned his attention to you.   

“This is difficult.” He complained with more ire.

You laughed.

He lavished in the sound.

“I know what you mean though; you’ve said it before.”

“Reassurance.” He pressed.

“I did ask for it…” You chuffed.

“You are my heart and I want children with no other.” He felt that the phrase was uttered how he intended it and oozed satisfaction.

You were slow in tucking close to him and nuzzled in your praise.

He churred openly.

“Because of me?” You whispered.

“Of course.” He agreed with a similar volume.

“You wanted kids though…”

“No.” He picked you up in his arms.

You tapped him to keep him from carrying you somewhere. “You said…”

“With you.” He had a pout to him.

“Desire for children.”

“With you.” He spoke with some force.

“You have a breeding kink! You knew about it before me!”

“You can have an inclination and not want to act on it!”

That sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it as a quote.

“It’s the taboo. That’s the allure!”

Something occurred to you then that never had before. “Your birth control.”

“What about it?”

“You’ve used it before.”

“Your intention?”

“You’ve cummed inside someone else.”

He seemed ready for further retort, but the thought caught him.

You watched as the memories preyed on him next.

He held you a little bit closer and appeared troubled.

“Your taboo and allure, you’ve-”

“Not the same.”

“With someone else-”

“It’s not the same.” He nearly growled.

“Donnie…”

“You’re my only love. My devotion. I had sex prior to you, but not love.”

“But you…”

“I will explain.” He had obvious distaste for the matter and turned suddenly without letting you go.

You clung to him and he located his chair.

In another rotation, he plopped down into it with you in his lap.

You blinked at him.

He met your gaze and exhaled slowly. “We’ve discussed my previous partners on a surface level, but not in this way.”

“Donnie, you don’t have to-”

“I do.” His eyes flashed a warning.

You made it obvious that you resented his attitude.

He softened some and pleaded with you. “I want to squash your concern. I don’t mind sharing. I am infuriated that a comparison could be drawn. It illustrates a failing of mine. This falls outside reassurance. I’ve failed to impart this importance. Your importance.”

Hearing that, you understood better and settled until you were comfortable enough to listen.

He petted your arm for a while to calm down before he spoke. “Setting aside feral instinct, a creampie has a possessive connotation. Pregnancy can be seen as a form of ownership with a child as a permanent bond.”

Your head lifted where it rested against his plastron.

“I never wished to seize that sort of control. I saw sex as a tool and a creampie was ritualistic success. It was demeaning to the other. A humiliation that they were subjected to by me in conquest.”

“A different kind of control.”

“Right.” He shuddered a little as the thought repulsed him and he adjusted you so more of you was pressed to him.

You spread out your arms to give him more contact.

He relished in it. “Not with you.”

“You wanted me to take all of you.”

“I wanted to consume you.” His eyes closed. “I still do.”

“What else is there for you to have?” You tried to tease.

He didn’t share the levity and dropped his gaze to look at you. “A lot. You get away with much.”

You shrank a little.

“You value your autonomy and thus I do the same.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right. I didn’t forget… You were always clear… I just…”

“I am lucky you enjoy my company as much as you do.”

“Donnie!”

“The truth.” He lowered his head to level with you. “I savor our codependency and, were I to have met you even a moment earlier, then I would have gone to nefarious means to ensure a level of it had you not exhibited the same.”

You knew he was right, but tucked into him. “All those times you came in me early on…”

“Inclination without action. How I wanted to possess you. Entrap you. Have you grow heavy with my child. Have you always. Yet there was no chance.”

You hugged him tightly.

“That is not what’s currently occurring.”

You shifted with question.

“Those were early thoughts. Anxious ones from when I hadn’t told you the truth about me. ‘I still do’ is the sense that I will always want more of you, but our child is not a chain. They are a celebration of our love.”

“’Why do anything?’” You repeated something he had said that you remembered clearly. “We’re creating it now because we can.”

“Because I want to do this with you.”

“The ultimate form of creation.” You leaned away.

Donnie’s eyes lit up a little as if he hadn’t thought of that.

“Yeah…” You recalled a bit from his past. “You always wanted to be left alone to work. Having a kid is the ultimate form of that. That’s work. That’s something only you, unique you, can create.”

“With the same of yours…” His grip shifted.

You readied yourself.

He smashed his lips into yours and you drank him in.

You pulled on his mask tails as he almost suffocated you.

He relented at the last dizzying moment and you gasped against his lips.

He churred loudly.

“Love you…”

“You.” He pecked one cheek. “You.” He pecked the other.

“I’m better…” You looked up at him.

“Good.”

“Thank you.”

He shook his head.

“Yes.”

He was vehement and disagreed straight into your lips.

You kissed more languidly and he broke with sugared rumbles.

“I have a confession.”

“Another?”

“Before was for clarity. This will be for guilt.”

You studied him. “What did you do…?”

“For a few hours, I have known something that will upset you.”

That would place you back in Dr. Kuro’s office and you narrowed your gaze.

He shrank the slightest amount and sent his eyes off into the room.

“Donatello.”

“I know exactly when we conceived.”

“Huh!?” You hadn’t expected that.

“Yes.”

“But you weren’t tracking.”

“We learned you are at eight weeks.”

“Yeah…?”

“Eight weeks ago…”

You tried to think that far back, but too much had happened today.

“My… insertion exercise…” He grimaced.

“Oh.”

“That means…”

“Oh.”

“Right…”

“You…!” You sat up straight and sent him a crazed look. “… did not get me pregnant from edging!!”

“Think of the timeline. Exactly eight weeks ago was one of your projected ovulation windows. While I don’t recall scenting it, I wasn’t near as honed. We hadn’t had relations prior. You had been free of cum for a week leading up to and then another after as we abstained from sex due to the resulting rash…”

“I noticed!” You remembered him jolting during your appointment. “When Dr. Kuro said how long, you freaked out because you put it together!”

“Yes.”

“We got pregnant from edging!!” You groaned loudly.

Donnie took full blame and stewed in it beside you.

You belted out more distress before collapsing into your mate. “We tell no one. I’m going to pretend it was anything else.”

“But-”

“No. You can have any other anniversary you want, but this one is off limits.”

He held out for a few seconds before he accepted.

“This is worse. So much worse than me thinking I was unloved.”

Donnie snorted his offense.

“Obviously, not really, but kind of!”

He tipped you so he could overlook you with a dry expression.

You pinched his cheek.

It didn’t hurt him and he leaned into your touch.

“Any other notes while we’re at it?”

“We won’t have the results of your tests for a few days, but I’m inclined to agree with Dr. Kuro’s assessment of your womb.”

“The mutation…?”

He twitched at the word, but still spoke. “I don’t believe you are mutated.”

“Then what?”

“It’s the damned Empyrean.”

You recognized the word even though you could rarely recall it. “The substance that made yokai.”

“That I believe made yokai and was catalyst for mutants. Yes.”

“Sure.”

“As we’ve discussed, my DNA is, in a sense, elastic. The doctor’s reasoning is sound. Empyrean could very easily develop your womb. The properties the fool Draxum added only increase effectiveness of transformation. From what I’ve studied of my own blood, there is hyper cell generation and adaptation.”

“It’s permanent.”

That note scorned your husband. “Y/N.”

“We’re bonded.” You put your left hand over his concealed mating mark. “I have no plans to be with anyone else, let alone have kids with them.”

“I fundamentally changed you…”

“Like you hadn’t already?”

He sulked.

“Permanent scarring.” You squeezed his shoulder.

“Not a positive trait.” He spoke bitterly.

“Donnie you bit me our first night together.”

“I didn’t mean to.” His teeth warned.

You were unaffected and moved into his face so he couldn’t run from your attention.

Weak willed eyes met yours.

“I kind of like it.”

He scowled. “We agreed, no mutation.”

“I’m not mutated.” You spoke his earlier comment with the same candor.

You had him there. “But you are changed.”

“To better have your babies.” You spoke with a sultry sound.

A small peep escaped him.

“How far will the development go?” You leaned into him so he could feel your breath. “How much will our chances of conceiving raise?”

“You’re not mutated.” He repeated the fact as data to keep himself sane. “There will be a limit.”

“You think?” You looked at him up through your lashes.

“Continue and you will need to mount me.”

“Promise?” You ghosted your lips over his cheek.

“Fuck!” He groaned, lifted you, adjusted his legs, and sat you back down all in a way that said he’d dropped right then.

“How long have you-?”

“Your babies comment! I would not be turned on by your misery!”

You chuckled, knowing that well.

“Need you.”

You nodded and kissed him each time your head lifted.

He churred in a desperate boon.

You slid your hands down his plastron and were quick in undoing his belt and fly.

He lifted you and moved his legs again to shove the fabric down enough to free his cock.

It hung out of his jeans in proud attention.

You stroked him once before you hopped off the chair to undress.

He followed up your touch by fisting his length for an impatient pump. 

You gave him a playful grin as you hopped out of your bottoms. 

“Your breeding kink is only gonna get worse huh?”

He nodded sharply. “Say it again.”

You knew what he wanted repeated. “I’m gonna have your babies.”

He openly moaned and stroked himself with more purpose.

You swatted his hand away as soon as you were nude. “One now, more later.”

He squeaked out of his control.

You crawled back into his lap and he slid his hips down to accommodate you.

You got a leg on either side of his thighs.

“As many as we can.”

His teeth snapped wetly as he caught your hips.

You pried him off.

He whined.

“Keep me big.” You put one hand to his shoulder to stabilize yourself and the other down between your legs to line him up.

He popped and trilled.

“This is safe, right? Sex.”

“Yes.” He drooled the word and sucked on oxygen to reason himself. “Yes. No complications. Should be completely safe.”

“Good!” You sank down on him.

He immediately came forward in a bear hug and caught your ass so you swallowed his shaft. “More. More.”

“Make sure everyone knows. Everyone will see how well you bred me.” You lifted along with and he forced you down hard.

You both groaned at the connection.

“I’m gonna be so heavy and you’re going to help me. Dote on me. Take responsibility.”

Donnie quickly superseded your pace and pulled you up and down faster and faster.

You shivered in his arms. “Ah! Parade me around! Knock me up again! Made for you!”

“Mine. Mine.” He started up a few times, but didn’t lose himself to the repeat.

“Angle!” You whined.

He adjusted you and the new placement sent you headlong toward orgasm. “Oh, fuck! Donnie!”

“One more!” He snarled.

“Between us!” You dug your nails into his sleeve. “Baby! Right now! It’s small, but it’s there! We did it!”

He pulled you flush to him and stopped.

You were close and breathing at a quick pace as you searched him.

Your stomach met against the flat of his plastron and he stared down where your chest seamed against his. “Baby…?”

“Yeah.” You slung your arms around his hand. “We’re having a baby.”

“You’re only going to get bigger.” His eyes rolled back and he bounced you so hard the chair jumped.

It creaked as he slammed it down into submission and you onto his cock.

You screamed your mate’s name as you came.

He clutched your lower back tight and spilled his seed deep inside you.

You both held onto each other for as long as you could until you both released withheld breaths.

Rung out and satisfied, you switched from grasping to cuddling and Donnie’s churrs returned soft and sweet.

“What’s hotter?”

He nosed you his attention.

“Breeding sex or pregnant sex?”

He thought about it openly.

“Really?” You giggled.

“Both have their advantage…”

“True…” You kissed his cheek.

“I only have one data point for the latter.”

You felt a tingle in your spine knowing full well how far your mate was willing to go for information.

“We’ll have to find out.” He poured heat into your ear and then kissed you to seal the promise.

💜 NEXT 💜

Through rain or sleet or me writing a sudden 84 page one-shot my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 are just incredible!

[greatcometdeservedbetter]

Nothing makes me feel more like the Joker than knowing that Tamora Pierce has an entire novel about Tris at Lightbridge that will just… never be published? Apparently?

Anyway, as a poor substitute, here’s a list of things my brain has decided happens in that book:

Tris attends under a pseudonym, as planned, and no one knows about her connection to Niko or anything about her life at Winding Circle. She is one of many children of middling merchant families in her class.

Due to a mixup, she is assigned a roommate. For the first time in a long time, Tris has no access to power or connections and so she has to put up with it.

Most of her professors find her difficult to work with because she does not limit her study of their subjects to the traditional curriculum. Maybe one or two professors pay her special attention and praise, enough that her classmates are made aware of how talented she is.

Despite having no information about her except her milquetoast background, her classmates still find her strange and difficult. Her unexplained talent and advancement for a freshman leaves her isolated from her peers.

Gradually, Tris finds herself writing to her siblings less and less because she isn’t sure how to keep her unhappiness out of the message.

Making things worse is the roommate, who turns out to have a remarkably similar kind of backstory to Tris. Maybe she’s an orphan or a scholarship kid; her magic was definitely discovered later in life after a lot of hardship. Everyone in the school embraces her and finds her endlessly charming despite her social sort comings.

Poor Tris sits in the corner of their room while her roommate goes on about all the parties and dinners and whatnot their classmates have invited her to.

Only one student really tries to befriend her. He doesn’t have a name but he looks like a young Tom Hopper (Black Sails/Umbrella Academy). A super outgoing young mage from a working class family, he’s very adept at physical magical workings and is always outside doing like pushups and stuff where people can see him. He’s not used to an academic setting, though, and anytime he sees his pull ups catch Tris’ attention, he always calls out to her and sometimes asks for her help with classwork. She finds him annoying but still helps him when be asks because no one else talks to her.

She doesn’t know how he got into the university because he is. Shockingly bad at magic.

At one point, Nico visits. He tries to keep a low profile, but some of her classmates notice them spending time together. It immediately becomes the only thing anyone talks to her about, which is the opposite of what she wants so she starts being extra prickly and avoidant to make them stop.

This goes on for a while. Lonely Tris avoids her classmates and focuses on her studies. Presumably some kind of mystery is afoot and she can throw herself into that instead of wallowing in her misery.

At the midway point, she gets more visitors. Possibly all three of her siblings, but At minimum Briar.

For the sake of moving along, let’s say it’s just Briar. They connect mentally way before he arrives and any annoyance he has at her lack of communication dispels when he feels her frustration and sadness through the bond. He rolls up ready to be her social lubricant.

He introduces himself as her brother, never mind why they don’t look alike, and easily blends into the crowd at school for a few weeks. He makes friends effortlessly, gets invited to all kinds of parties and events, and even shows off a bit of his ambient magic during classes.

This infuriates Tris. They have a fight about it shortly before he leaves. Briar rightly points out that all the work she’s doing to lie about so many big parts of her life is preventing her from seeing the obvious - that many of her classmates have been trying really hard to make friends with her.

Her roommate only told her about things she was invited to in order to gauge if Tris would also be interested and to try and invite her along! And the boy constantly doing pushups in front of her actually has better grades than he lets on because he’s looking for excuses to spend time with her and all she seems to do is study. People only asked about Nico because he was the first concrete bit of information about her that anyone had!

It takes Tris a bit of time to process this, and she will have broken some bridges beyond repair already, but she does eventually see it and slowly starts to reach out.

Her circle (ha) stays small, but her life at Lightsbridge vastly improves once she starts seeing her classmates’ bids for connection for what they are.

As she gets comfortable with people, she gets key gossip and information about the school that she had previously been missing out on. Now the mystery becomes solvable.

It was probably whatever authority figure was nice to her in the beginning. Secret, asshole me too type behavior maybe.

She ends her first year better than she started it, with a good bunch of pals to help her out going forward, and a lot more confidence in her abilities.

Maybe she visits home over the summer or maybe we cut to after her graduation, but we see her return to Emelan at the end of the book

Whoever didn’t get to see her during the plot has a chance to hug and scold her for being standoffish. Then Briar’s like “and anyway, that guy who’s obviously in love with you asked if he could stay with us for a few weeks while he gets settled at his new job, and I told him sure”

And Tris is like “What guy? No one at school was in love with me.”

And then knock knock it’s the beefy-but-smart guy at the door and Tris is like “oh shit”

End book

[billy-cockblock]

SWTD Theory

Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go. 

I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point. 

For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.

Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.

I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).

(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)

Now, I’ll get to my main theory:

I think Caz was dead the whole time.

Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way. 

So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math. 

Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them. 

Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?

After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck. 

When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.

So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?

My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.

And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape. 

Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"

After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life. 

Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.

With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 

A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.

Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!

[elysian-edu]

the pink bows you wore. . . (WIP)

a/n: this is a work in progress.. it's been a lil bit since i posted smt, and i can't really figure out an ending yet soooo lmk what u think.😭🙈

synopsis: after a fatal accident, the memories of your lover seemed to have faded.

cw: character-color-trope, angst/hurt w barely any comfort, fem reader, tighnari x readerrr, i've never written for him before so bare with me please🙏🏾

a/n pt2: TY TO MY MUTUALS WHO HELPED ME CHOOSE!! @mwahkazu & @sl-vega 🫶🏾

TIGHNARI had never been so distraught as he sat at your hospital-bed side. His ears were dropped, his eyes a little puffy and red, it seemed like he'd just finished crying for the nth time this week.

as you laid there, all he was left with was his thoughts, and the occasional beep of the heart monitor; which seemed to ease his worries a tiny bit. at least he knows you're alive.

if someone were to ask him what happened, all he could say was "an accident."

"an accident?" he'd say to no one in particular when the interaction was done, and he was once again alone.

more like tragedy, he thought, face palming himself. even though it had been a week, he could remember the incident like it was yesterday.

"'nari!!" you exclaimed, waving at him from the top of the akademiya stairs. you were visiting because of an event for former students, and you decided to bring him as you plus one.

he greeted you with his usual smile, waving right back at you.

as you ran down the stairs to greet him officially, all you could hear was a "watch out!" before you were falling.

falling. it was all you could register before the world went black.

he couldn't stop thinking about it. you falling, and him not being able to run fast enough to catch you.

the wounds on your head were fatal, was one of the only things he remembered from the doctor's report about your condition.

he couldn't help but blame himself for them, even though it was his fault.

if i was faster, maybe i could've caught her, he thinks, feeling like he was going to cry again.

he then sighed, shaking his head. he knows you wouldn't want him thinking like that but he can't help it.

you looked so pretty up there with your sun-dress and pink bows tangled in your hair and around your outfit.

your smile was bright like the sun, you looked so happy till it happened.

the bows nestled ever-so-gently in his hand were the only things that gave him an ounce of hope.

hope that you'd wake up, and that you'd forget this thing even happened.

and he'd happily place them back in your hair.

but it seems that fate had other plans for him.

you groaned, opening your eyes, and slowly blinking to adjust to the dim hospital light.

you felt a slight pain in your head as you lifted your head up to see something—or rather someone on your bed.

who is this?, you thought, and decided to speak up. you coughed to get his attention.

"um, who are you?" your voice was hoarse, and some parts of the sentence came out a bit higher in tone than you liked it.

when the stranger looked up at you, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

to your dismay, he didn't answer you question, and immediately rushed out the room.

you sat there and blinked, until the door opened again, and a person who you presumed was a doctor, and the stranger walked in again.

in the course of a few minutes you were bombarded with questions from the doctor, which you tried to answer to the best of your ability.

the stranger seemed to know most of the answers better than you. like "what's your name," birthday, etc.

it didn't bother you that much though, since your were supposedly waking up from a coma, and you didn't really feel like going the extra mile to recall details.

when the doctor finally finished their verbal analysis, they left the two of you alone.

"[name]! i can't believe you're-!" you cut him off as he engulfed you into a hug.

"uh," you started, stiffening at the sudden contact.

"i don't think you heard me but, who are you?" you finally asked, pulling away from the hug.

"what.." his voice barely above a whisper.

remember this is a WIP,, so abrupt ending for now🙈

[lexii282]

Hi hi!! ✨

This is my first short story maybe? That I’ve written and posting! And of course it's about Mr. Burrow himself because good lord 🥵

It is not proof read so this is your warning. If you see anything lmk! I don’t mind constructive criticism.

Go easy on me and hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Untouchable

Warnings; none

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I woke up to the feeling of something trailing along the inside of my thighs as I lay there asleep. At first, I don’t realize what it is until I force the sleepy haze aside and concentrate only to put the pieces together. I'm in the hotel room that he rented and It’s his lips pressing against my skin gently just enough so I could feel it and wake up. His hands moved softly up and down my hips to my sides. Slightly massaging the parts he decides to stop at.He finally decides to stay focused on my hips just where the waistband of my underwear lay at and start to pull them down only to be stopped by my hands on top of his.

“And here I thought you had enough last night Burrow” I let a small smile grace my lips

He pops his head up with a smug smile and kisses his way up my body to finally land right next to my lips. Bringing my hands above my head trapped by his holding them down and finally says

“If you’re tapping out sweetheart that’s all you gotta say. Just tell me how you can’t take anymore and need a break” A small laugh bubbles out of me

“Joey please you and I both know we can keep it going but we both have places to be and people to see”

“And none of them are you in this bed dressed like this so I don’t care (y/n/n). He hovers above me with that same smug expression that I’ve grown to love in the past couple of months.

I stare back up at him

“Easy there. You’re starting to sound like you actually might have a crush on me”

He rolls his eyes and lays beside me and I turn to look at him.

“I like having your presence around. There’s nothing wrong with that.” he shrugs.

“Mhm. Just remember the deal okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt lover boy”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head sweetheart I’m the last one you need to worry about catching feelings.”

I smile. “Good. Then I’m getting in the shower.”

“Can I join??” He asks as I was shutting the door

“Nope!” I hear his laugh right after

I stand under the shower head letting the hot water ease my muscles. The stress of the past couple of weeks catching up to me after leaving it behind for a few hours last night.

When you’re chasing your dreams you never truly believe everything they say about how you’ll miss the calm and stability you had in your life before you got everything you wanted. I guess that’s where Joe comes in for me. Since really being in the spotlight I never felt more alone and like no one understands. Of course, I love what I do but I just could never imagine how lonely I would feel.

Joe Burrow the QB for the Bengals. We met at a mutuals party one night when I was in town visiting my family and we hit it off. The conversation flowed and we had a lot in common. I felt like I could be myself for once and didn’t have to hold back. Eventually, too many drinks were consumed and we made our way back to his place via Uber because drunk driving? I could never.

We made it up to his room and I made myself comfortable on his bed while he had to go get something. Presumably a condom and finally when he comes back in the room hyped and ready just one look is all it takes to kill his mood. Why you ask?

Well, I would love to answer that question (hint the sarcasm). I had fallen asleep. One of the most embarrassing things I could have done and I did it in front of the Joe burrow. I’ve had a crush on the guy ever since he started playing for the team and I finally get my chance and I go and fuck it up. He made sure to tell me all about it the next day and loves to still bring it up to this day. We’ve since made this a recurring thing whenever we’re both in town or free to fly wherever the other one may be. It’s been easier meeting up with me being on a break but eventually, it’s going to come to an end with me going back to recording this new album.

Just a few months ago I had finished my arena tour and decided to take time off to really take everything in. All the accomplishments I was able to achieve just like I’ve always wanted and of course, I just wanted to take time away to spend with my friends and family. It’s been hard but it’ll be worth it.

“Hey, I need to head out. I’ll see you later though right?” Joe says opening the door not to mention scaring me a little. I almost forgot where I was so lost in my thoughts. I poke my head out while using the shower curtain to keep the rest of my body covered.

“Uh, what’s later?”

“Some of the guys are meeting up at that club. Ya know the new one they just opened a few weeks ago. I was telling you about it last night. “ He comes closer to me jokingly pulling on a string of wet hair. I slap his hand away before saying

“Riiight. I don’t know Joe. Don’t you think it might be weird that we’re there together? You know how the media is not to mention the fans.”

“Why would it be weird unless you make it weird (y/n/n). We’re friends. Nothing wrong with that. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it has to be” He shrugs

“I’m not. But we said when we started this that nobody would know about us hanging out. I think being spotted together at a club of all places will raise a few questions.”

“Listen it’s a new place and we both by coincidence wanted to check it out on the same night. I don’t think it would be all that weird. Just don’t get jealous when you see all the ladies around me yeah?” He lets a smug smile form.

I roll my eyes. Cocky asshole.

“Shut up and get out of my bathroom Burrow. I don’t have time for your games. He lets out a laugh. That sound has quickly become one of my favorite sounds.

“If I recall correctly I paid for this room so therefore it’s my bathroom sweetheart.” He pauses and then continues.

“Just don’t think too much about it alright? Go out with your friends get a couple of drinks and oh look! Quarterback, Joe Borrow is here. He's hot maybe we should go say hi”

“Do you think your head will explode if it gets any bigger?”

“Nah but I’m sure you’d like to think it would.” He leans down and kisses my cheek and starts walking out.

“I’ll see you later sleeping beauty”

“Jerk!” I yell out. You fall asleep once during a hookup and you never live it down. Unbelievable.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 34

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.4K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Nesta had resolutely decided to tell Cassian about the pregnancy the next time he was home. She repeated it to you so often that it seemed more a reminder to herself than a note to you. However, when Cassian returned the following week, it was painfully clear that she was having more than a little trouble letting the secret out. Worse yet were Nesta’s increasingly obvious efforts to avoid being alone with Cassian at all. She was like a cat with a bellyful of secrets, her stormy grey eyes betraying the guilt gnawing at her from within.

You reminded yourself that it was Nesta’s news to share, and she would do it in her own time. It wasn’t your place to push her, especially after your revelation had left her visibly shaken.

Since then, Nesta had taken up wearing stronger perfumes, presumably to mask any new maternal scent that might be emanating from her. Watching her test out and purchase scents that most shopkeepers admitted they hadn't sold much of due to their rather potent odors was almost comical. She doused herself in them anyway. The first night Cassian was home, the perfume had been a particularly strong mix of lavender and something else you couldn’t quite place, and it left you wondering if she had actually used over half the bottle.

That same night, Nesta expertly managed to avoid dinner altogether, claiming an urgent meeting with a court advisor. The only urgency in her voice, however, was to avoid Cassian’s probing questions and comments regarding her new musk, which he described as, “worse than a scouting party that had been out in the woods for three weeks with no access to running water.”

Knowing his habits, she waited until he had passed out on the couch, snoring away, his wings sprawled wide, and his hulking body draped over the fine velvet. Azriel, perched next to you looking over a few documents Cassian had brought back from his trip, remarked that he looked like a dragon hoarding the pile of cushions he had positioned under himself.

It was only then that Nesta tiptoed past the living room door, where you sat in front of the fire, sitting on the floor in front of Azriel, curled up with a book. She moved like one of Azriel’s shadows, despite the perfume cloud that announced her arrival far before her actual body. You glanced up at her, catching her eye as she attempted to sneak past. Your eye caught hers as you smiled, amused and also sympathetic. Her return smile was tight-lipped, full of guilt and more than a little sheepishness. The kind of look that said, “Yes, I know, I’m being ridiculous, but please don’t say anything.”

Your book lay forgotten in your lap as you watched her. It was like witnessing a young fae sneaking back in after curfew. Her expression softened as you gave a tiny nod, a silent message: “Take your time. It’s okay.”

Nesta took a few more calculated steps forward, just out of earshot, before Azriel, without looking up from his papers, asked, “So, what’s all that about?”

His voice spooked you enough that you jumped lightly in your seat. “What?” you replied a bit too quickly, trying to hide your guilt by burying your nose deeper into your book.

Azriel’s eyes remained on his papers, but there was a teasing note in his voice. “Nesta’s sneaking around. And you two are giving each other these...glances.”

“You know, I don’t appreciate the parts of you that notice everything. You’re too nosy,” you quipped, hoping to deflect.

He simply shrugged. “It’s my job.”

You mulled over your options, finally settling on, “It’s not my place to say.”

Azriel folded down one corner of his page, glancing at you with those perceptive hazel eyes. “Is everything okay between her and Cassian?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” you muttered, your eyes glued to the page where the words blurred together, unread.

Setting his papers aside, Azriel slid down off the couch, drawing his knees to his chest as he sat next to you. He tried to catch your gaze, but you chewed your bottom lip, pretending to be engrossed in the book. After a few moments of awkward silence, you peeked at him from the corner of your eye. “Can I help you?” you asked, more to break the tension than anything else.

Azriel chuckled softly, his thumb grazing his nose. “What?” you pressed, shutting the book a bit too loudly. Cassian stirred lightly, a bit of drool hitting the floor. Nesta would have woken him immediately to make him clean it, but Azriel just watched as Cassian rolled over, now facing the back of the couch.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, Azriel said, “You know too?”

You turned to him, trying to mask your guilt with wide eyes. “Know what?”

“That Nesta’s—” He mimed an enlarged stomach with his hands.

Your mouth dropped open, struggling to find the right words. “How did you—? Did she—?”

Azriel shook his head, glancing back at Cassian. “It’s not hard to deduce. She’s acting strange. Avoiding him, and he’s not desperately trying to win her back for something he did. Plus, those perfumes are terrible. Nesta has much better taste.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank the gods someone else knows.”

“She hasn’t told him yet?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together.

You shook your head. “I just guessed it last week.” You gestured to the sleeping figure across the room. “How has he not noticed?”

Azriel shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’d like to say it’s because he’s been away and tired, but honestly, that’s giving him too much credit.”

Cassian choked on a snore, readjusting himself again.

Azriel’s expression grew more serious. “Why hasn’t she said anything?”

You set the book on the floor beside you. “She’s worried about getting his hopes up. They’ve had trouble the last few times.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his eyes darkening with unspoken memories. You hesitated before asking the question weighing heavily on your mind. “How many babes have they lost?”

Azriel’s brows drew together, his eyes clouding with sadness. “I think four. Three that Cassian knows about.”

Your stomach churned. “How do you know about the other one?”

Azriel leaned back, resting his head on the cushion behind him, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “She didn’t come to training one morning. Cassian was out on some mission for Rhys. Gwyn and I found her in the bathing room, just lying on the floor. She hadn’t told any of us about the babe.”

You watched the light in his eyes fade, replaced by a sorrowful reflection. “You didn’t tell Cassian?”

Azriel shook his head, the cushion shifting under him. “Nesta begged us not to. It didn’t feel right for me to tell him.”

Your gaze shifted to Cassian, sprawled on the couch, always the first to approach children wherever you went. He loved babysitting for Feyre and Rhys, encouraging them to extend their trips so he could spend more time with Nyx. He tossed Nyx higher into the air than anyone else, making Nesta gasp and scold him. Cassian was a natural with children, yet he never mentioned wanting his own. Perhaps he didn’t want to pressure Nesta. Or maybe he was trying to accept that he might only be an uncle, never a father.

The following night, you normally found yourself eagerly anticipating the weekly gathering at the River House. Those evenings were a balm to your soul, leaving you with a full belly, cheeks aching from smiling, and a heart warmed by laughter. But tonight, a subtle tension lingered as Azriel and Cassian flew you and Nesta down towards the High Lord and Lady’s home. Nesta’s tight-lipped expression as she gazed out over the sparkling Sidra was all you could seemingly focus on. Cassian, oblivious, chattered away to Azriel, but you were too preoccupied with Nesta’s silence to catch much of their conversation.

When you finally landed on the lawn, Elain and Lucien arrived behind you, hand in hand. Azriel placed a comforting hand on your back, his thumb rubbing up and down soothingly as he leaned down to whisper, “She’ll tell him.”

You swallowed your anxiety and nodded, falling in step with the group as you approached the door. It creaked open, revealing a tiny pair of hands tugging at the large oak door. A more slender hand appeared above them, helping to pull it open. Nyx’s shining, pudgy face peeked out, bathed in the warm faelight from inside. Without hesitation, he sprinted out towards the group, his bare feet pattering against the stones as Feyre’s voice called after him, “Nyx, no! You didn’t put shoes on!”

Nyx whipped his head back towards his mother, his eyes wide with defiance as he assessed the situation. Feyre’s arms crossed, her lips tightening into a stern line as she prepared to bring down the hammer. Caught between the allure of Cassian, Nyx’s obvious favorite among all of you, and the impending scolding, the little warrior made a split-second decision and bounded towards Cassian, who dropped into a crouch, arms outstretched.

Feyre scoffed, her eyes rolling as she cast a resigned smile at the group. Cassian scooped Nyx up, hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Nyx’s giggles filled the air.

As Cassian approached the front door, Nesta trailed behind, running a loving hand through her nephew’s jet-black hair. She licked her thumb and attempted to rub off some paint from his forehead. “I believe this belongs to you,” Cassian announced, shifting Nyx on his broad shoulder as the boy giggled again.

“Oh no,” Feyre replied with mock seriousness, her voice laced with humor, “My little boy wouldn’t go running out without his shoes on. And this one seems to be completely bare.” She tickled the soles of Nyx’s feet, causing him to squirm and kick lightly at Cassian’s chest as he laughed.

“So can I keep him?” Cassian asked, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“No!” Nyx howled, still trying to stifle his laughter. “I’m not yours!” he cried out, wriggling in Cassian’s hold.

Cassian dropped Nyx back to the floor with a feigned grunt. “Then you better start listening to your mama, or she might just let me take you.”

Nyx darted past Feyre, who sighed and shook her head as he pushed into her slightly, knocking her off balance. Even though Nyx barely came up to her knee, it was very clear he had both the most powerful fae in the Night Court wrapped around his tiny chubby finger. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to Cassian, bringing him into an embrace. “I swear, he’s getting more like you every day.”

Cassian pulled back with a grin, pecking her on the cheek. “Well, you’re welcome for encouraging him to be such a fun-loving, hilarious child.”

Nesta stepped in, gently nudging Cassian aside to hug her sister as Feyre replied, “Cassian, I’m not sure if you ever grew out of your terrible twenties.”

Cassian brushed past her with a laugh, following Nyx’s excited calls from the sitting room. 

The evening began as it typically did. Feyre was curled up against Rhys on one of the sitting room sofas, their casual intimacy still striking you as refreshingly normal despite their lofty positions. Elain disappeared into the kitchen, determined to help with dinner preparations, though Feyre protested that everything was already prepared. Nesta sat gracefully in one of the wingback chairs, her face resting in her palm as she observed Cassian on the floor. Nyx clambered over him like a piece of furniture, occasionally running out of the room to fetch another toy for his uncle to play with.

You and Azriel sat opposite, each in your own chair, cautious about displaying affection in front of others. Though you were certain everyone, save for Nyx, was aware of your slowly blossoming relationship, neither of you felt comfortable being overt.

At the dinner table, Nesta’s unusual quietness became more apparent. She moved her food around her plate, barely looking up as Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel guffawed over something. Elain, Feyre, and Lucien were engrossed in a discussion about a new playhouse opening in the city, occasionally trying to draw you into the conversation. However, your attention kept drifting to Nesta, who seemed to be retreating into herself.

Nyx, having finished his dinner, climbed down from his chair despite Feyre’s admonishments to stay put. He crawled under the table and tugged on Cassian’s pant leg, pleading to be lifted into his lap. Cassian, ever the doting uncle, obliged, and spent the rest of the meal eating around the tiny wings of his nephew. Nyx’s laughter filled the room as he and Cassian played a simple game—Nyx straining to unfurl Cassian’s massive fingers clenched into a fist.  You couldn’t help but notice the small, almost wistful smile that flickered on Nesta’s lips as she watched the two of them—the first you’d seen since Cassian returned.

Then, amidst the overlapping conversations, Nesta’s voice cut through. “Rhys, Feyre, can Cassian and I borrow the cabin this weekend?”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Nesta. It was the first substantial thing she had said all evening, and everyone seemed to realize it at once.

“Of course,” Feyre replied smoothly, taking another sip of her wine.

Cassian, taken aback, glanced at Nesta. “I didn’t know you wanted to go this weekend.”

Nesta shrugged, her fork chasing a rogue piece of meat. “I just think it would be nice to get away for a few days. Especially since you’ve been gone.”

Nyx, seizing the moment where Cassian had lost focus, gave a triumphant shout, “I did it!” He quickly turned back to his nephew, his fingers indeed loosened, praising him with genuine enthusiasm.

You caught Nesta’s eye across the table, and she exhaled a small sigh of relief as she took what might have been her first real bite of the evening. She offered you a tentative smile.

Azriel’s hand found your knee under the table, squeezing gently, a silent acknowledgment of the shared relief. 

You turned towards him to say something, but his expression stopped you. He was smiling at you with a glimmer in his eyes, a teasing excitement that you couldn’t quite decipher. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous light.

You tilted your head, puzzled, silently questioning him. Azriel merely arched his brows, a playful challenge in his gaze, and took a leisurely sip of his wine. He turned back to the conversation with Cassian and Rhys at the other end of the table, but not before you caught the unmistakable twinkle of anticipation in his eyes.

The look was new, something you hadn’t seen from Azriel before. It sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach, the sudden flurry of emotion making your pulse quicken.

You felt your cheeks warm and something warm igniting in your core.

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