#I don't like the background but I'll be damned if I spend my evening trying to render one brick at a time!

[scribeofmorpheus]

You hold a world breaker in your arms. xxi.

NSFW[ish] version below the cut-->

I love the cover art version, the pink is very fun!

[mochitaekookie]

Yan!DILF Namjoon

A/n:Welp, it's been a long while and I very much apologise for the long hiatus but I'm back to writing now. While my works are in drafts and still being written, I'll be posting headcanons to get used to writing again 🙂

Dilf Namjoon who is a widower and with an infant son to take care of.

Dilf Namjoon who thinks of hiring a babysitter while he goes to work and earns money for both his son and him.

Dilf Namjoon, who can't find a damn good babysitter since most of them are just trying to get in his pants. Who spends weeks interviewing candidates, going through background checks, only to be met with disappointment every time.

Dilf Namjoon who eventually gives up, deciding that if he can’t find someone good enough, he’ll just have to work from home more. It’s frustrating, exhausting, but he refuses to leave his son with just anyone.

Dilf Namjoon who one day finds a towel fallen on his balcony, strange, since nobody lives upstairs. Later, he finds out that someone just recently moved in.

Dilf Namjoon decides to give the item back himself since the person doesn't even realise that their towel is missing.

Dilf Namjoon who knocks on the door and sees you, right out of the shower and hair dripping wet, looking like an angel.

Dilf Namjoon who awkwardly stands there since he forgot why he was there in the first place. When you ask if he needed something, he awkwardly clears his throat and hands you back your towel

Dilf Namjoon who finds out you live alone and assures you that you can come to him for help whenever you need help and not hesitate.

Dilf Namjoon who can't get the image of you out of his mind after that. He keeps thinking of you in ways he shouldn't.

Dilf Namjoon who tries to push those thoughts aside until the day he desperately needs a babysitter for an urgent meeting. Who goes through a mental list of possible options, only for your name to be the first one that comes to mind.

Dilf Namjoon who never intended to rely on a stranger, until he meets you. Until he sees the way his son, who is usually wary of new people, reaches out for you without hesitation.

Dilf Namjoon who is relieved when you agree without hesitation, who watches as his son immediately takes a liking to you, clinging to your hands and giggling as if you were always meant to be there.

Dilf Namjoon who is elated to find that you have no problem looking after his son again and that it's easier since you've been looking after your brother and cousins since a young age.

Dilf Namjoon who invites you over for dinner as a thank you for taking care of his son. He laughs at the fake-offended face you make and says that's what neighbours are for and there's nothing to thank you for.

Dilf Namjoon whose heart skips a beat when you sit with them for dinner. The entire evening, he keeps blushing. The way you take care of his son to the way you help him out in the kitchen, he can't help but think of a domestic life with you.

Dilf Namjoon who realises he is in love with you, when you tuck his son in his bed, when you kiss his forehead so softly.

That night, he kept imagining a life with you as his wife. Sure, he is older than you but isn't that better than boys your age? He's such a loyal gentleman and he earns well as well.

He'd take care of you so well, you don't ever have to worry about anything.

Dilf Namjoon who starts worming his way into your life, you need help with the hinges of your door? Don't worry, Namjoon is perfectly capable. You need to shift the heavy sofa to the other side of the room? Namjoon makes sure to flex his muscles.

Dilf Namjoon who asks for your laptop under the excuse of needing it for work, making sure it seems natural when you offer it to him yourself. Who copies all your files onto his own, going through your photos, your messages, learning everything he can about you.

Dilf Namjoon who learns the recipe you were learning from videos on your laptop and makes them the next time you come over.

Dilf Namjoon who is more than ready to teach you the recipe himself if it means to spend more time with you.

Dilf Namjoon who finds ways to accidentally touch you while you both are cooking. You think he is trying to hug you? Nope, he is just trying to take something from the cabinet above. When his fingers brush against yours while handing you a spoon? He is just making sure you are holding the spoon correctly.

Dilf Namjoon who finds every excuse to keep you close. Who makes sure his son gets attached to you so that you have no choice but to stay.

Dilf Namjoon who grows annoyed when he sees another man drop you off at your apartment late at night. Who waits outside his door, pretending as if he was just about to close it, and asks why you were out so late.

Dilf Namjoon who clenches his jaw when you casually mention that you were just out with friends and that the guy was only being nice. Who doesn't like that answer. Who files that man’s face into his memory, just in case.

Dilf Namjoon who keeps inviting you over under the pretense of his son missing you, using every opportunity to learn more about your life. The first thing he confirms? You don’t have a boyfriend. Good. But even if you did, it wouldn’t have mattered. He would have handled it.

Who can’t take it anymore. Who has spent too many nights imagining what it would be like to have you in his arms, in his bed, forever his.

Dilf Namjoon who drugs you once, just once, slipping something into your tea so that you drift off into a deep sleep. Who lays beside you in his bed, wrapping himself around you as if you were already his.

Dilf Namjoon who takes your phone while you sleep, unlocking it effortlessly with your fingerprint. Who goes through your messages, growing irritated at the guy who keeps flirting with you. Who deletes those messages, blocking the number entirely.

Dilf Namjoon who watches as you wake up the next morning, completely unaware of what had happened.

Dilf Namjoon who comes running to you when his son starts crying, saying he won't calm down until and unless you are there because he had a nightmare and wants his mom (Namjoon encouraged him to call you that) to calm him down.

Dilf Namjoon who convinces you to stay the night when it gets too late, who insists it’s alright to stay at his place. His son, now completely attached to you, whines and clings to your hand, making it impossible for you to refuse.

Dilf Namjoon who stands in the doorway of the guest room after tucking his son in, watching as you settle under the blankets, his heart pounding. You trust him. You feel safe with him. If only you knew the thoughts running through his mind.

Dilf Namjoon who, when the moment is right, makes his move.

In the middle of the night, you wake up to get a glass of water. Only to find him standing there drinking a glass of wine, shirtless.

You think he hasn't seen you and about to make your way back to the guest room to not make it awkward, until he calls out your name.

"Thank you, you know, for taking care of my son," he says, motioning towards the wine. "Do you want some?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I don't drink," you say sheepishly, your gaze dropping.

"And besides, there's no need to thank me. S/n is a wonderful child. I love spending time with him."

He steps closer, the edge of the table pressing against your back, effectively caging you. "He can be yours," he states, his voice low.

"What?" you stammer, your heart suddenly pounding frantically against your ribs.

"I'm saying, he can be your child. Hell, he already is your child at this point. Do you know, when he has nightmares, he calls for you?" His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. "I'm serious. I can be a good husband."

He corners you against the counter, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmurs, his voice thick with longing. His fingers trail along your jaw, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his.

Dilf Namjoon who finally kisses you, deep and possessive, claiming you with every touch. He smirks as you kiss him back after a while. Who lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to his bed, whispering words of devotion against your skin.

Dilf Namjoon who knows this isn’t just one night.

Dilf Namjoon who presses a kiss to your temple as you drift off in his arms, whispering, "You’re never leaving me now."

Dilf Namjoon who refuses to let you go, you are his wife now, rings and vows can wait.

Dilf Namjoon who has no intention of ever letting you go.

[writing-flower]

“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”

First act: “From the roots”

Chapter I: “Happy Birthday to you (me)”

WARNING: None for now, just a little sad background at the beginning with a calm ending. Enjoy!

Prologue

Masterlist

The hallways are the same as I remember, white walls and full of marked photos, there weren't that many, but enough to make me think that I don't appear in any of them.

Although I am grateful that my room is not that far from the stairs, but at the same time, it hurts.

Looking at all those photos, looking at how everyone is smiling carefree (except Jason), everything is fine, except that one member of the mansion is missing.

And you know what the worst part is? Today is supposedly my birthday.

And I bet you anything that none of them remember.

The last photo they took was still next to the stairs, a photo big enough for all the Waynes to fit into it.

But since I'm not a Wayne, I didn't appear, I'm not, in any sense.

Because I would never "save" a child from the streets so that he would later receive the same treatment he once received there.

I would never allow the child to be insulted and denigrated for coming from the slums much less would I justify it by saying 'he's just a child'.

I would have taken that child directly to another family who could give him the attention that every child deserves. I wouldn't have taken him to a house where he would suffer.

Of course, they never touched him, they never hit me.

But words hurt worse than a sword.

Anyway, I doubt I'll be spending much more time than I should, I have to get back somehow.

But how?

[Name] stared at the photo for a few more moments before finally rushing down the stairs.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind out of control, so many questions hovered around her, stalking her, but there was only one that did not disappear.

Why? Why her? Of all the people who would long for this chance, why choose the one who would hate it the most?

"Lord, or whatever higher being is behind this, if you hear me... I hope you find your partner with another man, you damned wretch." She thought, completely ignoring her surroundings, until Alfred's voice called her.

"Miss" Alfred said, looking at her somewhat strangely. His expression didn't say it, but she noticed it. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm still a little sleepy." She replied smiling a little. Alfred just raised an eyebrow but didn't reply further. "Alfred, do you know why the mansion feels so... empty?"

Alfred headed to the kitchen to finish preparing her breakfast before answering, "Today is Monday, Miss. It's normal for the mansion to be like this, even more so in the morning."

[Name] didn't say anything, she looked at him curiously. "I mean, yeah, it's normal, for now it's just Tim, Damian and I living in the mansion." She thought as she sat down in one of the chairs.

"There are two more years until I officially leave the mansion, but, I don't think I can handle two years of pretending to be the same girl who wants approval...I have to-" [Name] snapped out of her thoughts, again, as she watched Alfred place a plate of food in front of her, pancakes with cream and strawberries.

"Happy fifteenth birthday, miss." Alfred said with a small smile adorning his normally serious and expressionless expression.

"Alfred"

"Yes, miss?"

"Is there another important date today? You know, some event, gala, party?" [Name] looked at him curiously and attentively for his answer, Alfred on the other hand didn't say anything.

"No, miss, there is nothing planned for today."

Oh.

Oh.

"Alfred... Were you always this bad at lying or was I just really naive?" She thought with a smile, smiling trying to fake a hopeful look.

"That's great! That means I can spend today with my family!" She said with a smile, she seemed genuinely happy. She seemed.

Alfred fell silent.

"Of course, miss, today will be a special day for you." Those words distracted her a little, but she didn't show it, she had to keep up the role.

"YAY! Well, nevermind, I need to go find a dress and look nice! I want to show Dick the dress I bought, it's blue! I'm sure he'll love it! Bye Alfred, thanks!" [Name] stood up from the chair so quickly that it made a high pitched, annoying noise, Alfred simply tried to ignore it.

He just watched her run up the stairs with a smile, a smile that the butler could sense was strange.

[Name] on the other hand, barely left Alfred's sight, her smile disappeared, now being replaced by an expression of curiosity.

"Well, what happened today? Besides my birthday..." She muttered as she slowed her walk back to the squares in the hallway.

Observing each one of them one by one.

"What are you looking at?"

[Name] almost screamed when she heard the other voice, she turned around to see boy younger than her somewhat sleepy.

Black hair, Green eyes. Damian Wayne.

"Honestly, have I always had bad luck or is it just because I'm in the mansion? Damn it." [Name] thought as she looked at the boy who was looking at her in an angry and discontented manner.

"Good morning to you too Damian."

"Answer my question."

"I was just looking at family photos, I already had breakfast." [Name] said as she turned her gaze back to the photograph, with that she also turned her gaze to one in particular.

"Oh, you mean MY family?" Some won't notice it, but she will, that little silent mockery.

She knew what that boy was trying to do, ever since he arrived a year ago he always tried to do the same thing, to have everything in his favor.

Trying to provoke her.

He had done it with Tim before, a few months after his arrival, and it seemed that now his new target was her.

But this time [Name] couldn't care less about that comment.

She was no longer a Wayne, [Name] already took that for granted the moment she left this mansion.

So why should she be affected by a comment from someone she doesn't care about?

Comment coming from someone who doesn't care about her well-being either. Again, does she have to care?

Obviously not.

"Yes Damian, YOUR family, come down now, your breakfast will get cold." [Name] could feel Damian's normally serious and emotionless expression falter at her response.

A faltered that no one would notice except Bruce, Alfred, or an adult.

A faltering she noticed, technically, she is an adult only she is trapped in the body of a fifteen year old girl.

Damian wanted to say more, but he just closed his mouth, giving her a look of contempt and annoyance.

[Name] felt that gaze leave her and then return all her attention to the photograph that caught her attention.

It wasn't a photograph as such, it was a kind of family tree.

Below each small photo was the name and birthday. In the case of the adopted children without parents, their birthday was the day they came to the mansion.

[Name] looked for his photo and realized that it was very outdated compared to the others.

This was her when she was around ten or eleven years old. Birthday: July 19th.

"Wait..." [Name] began to check the birthday dates of the family members.

Until she got to Tim's.

July 19th. Damn.

"No wonder there was so much silence, now it makes sense because no one remembered mine..." She thought as she touched Tim's photo to frown a little. "But that doesn't justify them in the slightest."

[Name] walked away from the family tree to return to her room. She had already lamented before, what would change if she continued to lament now?

Nothing.

I spent the rest of the day in my room, the silence from before had disappeared over time, just as the morning turned to afternoon and afternoon to night.

"This doesn't affect me, no, it doesn't affect me one bit." That kept repeating in my head like a broken record. But that statement stopped working when I heard them sing.

Their voices were not annoying, on the contrary, those voices were soft and happy.

Even Bruce's voice sounded soft, Haha, it feels strange.

It's been a while since I spoke to him, no, rather, it's been a while since I heard his voice.

He always listened to my voice, my shrill voice demanding his attention and support. That little voice that always wanders through my mind, But will never wander through his.

I'm not complaining, I'm convincing myself.

Convincing that shrill voice that this is not an opportunity, that it should not have hope that anything will change this time.

I don't want it to change, I like my future, where I work and my life before this.

I don't want to hold on to a past that I know, I want to hold on to my future which is not more uncertain.

I want my life, MY life. Not her life. Not anymore.

I just want—

*TOCK TOCK TOCK*

Three continuous knocks managed to get me out of my mind, I'm grateful for that, if I continued like this I wouldn't be able to sleep.

I get up from my bed to go to that attic door and open it. There he was, Alfred looking at me with a small smile.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up, Miss."

"Don't worry, I couldn't sleep, did something happen?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, just a request from me." I raised my eyebrow curiously, it's not unusual for him to do this kind of thing, but I couldn't help but have a little deja vu.

"Could you accompany me to the kitchen?"

I stood still for a few moments, until I nodded in approval, Alfred moved to the side of the small staircase so I could pass.

Once done, we both began to walk side by side. my gaze wandered through the photographs again, and there was silence again, which was not surprising.

It was nighttime, but there was still a small light on in the kitchen when we finished going down the stairs.

With that light she was accompanied by a small cake along with a box wrapped in gift paper.

"Happy birthday, miss." Alfred said again as he approached the table where the cake was, the decorations from the old party (if there were any decorations) had disappeared.

I stared at the scene in front of me.

"This isn't the way I would have liked to celebrate your birthday, miss, but it's not an excuse not to celebrate it, don't you think?" Alfred looked at me, his smile never faltering even as I stood there staring at the scene, seemingly paralyzed.

"Thank you Alfred..." This time, his smile faltered for a few short seconds, perhaps it wasn't his smile, maybe it was his look or something else.

I didn't know what my expression was right now, but it must have been something new for him, maybe I'm wrong, but his gaze seemed slightly surprised and comprehension.

As if to say, "Since when could she make that expression?"

But that look changed as soon as I started to approach the box.

Being careful not to make any noise, I tore the paper open to open the box. I opened it, my look now one of slight surprise.

The box was not that big, but it was big enough to fit three items of clothing.

A long, wide skirt with cascading ruffles that give it a flowing and elegant effect.

Sheer fabric cape-like sleeves fasten to the arms with delicate flower-adorned bracelets, creating an ethereal and elegant effect that flows as you move.

Finally, A long white cloth that was soft to the touch. As I pulled out my things I looked at Alfred in confusion.

"This is a big thing for me, Alfred."

Alfred nodded "I know, miss." He carefully grabbed the white cloth, then folded it and put it back in the box, but not before looking for something else inside. "Some time ago you told me that you liked those dancers' dance outfits."

"That's why I decided to ask a friend for a favor and make these clothes." Alfred took out two fans from the same box, he opened one of them revealing that it was not an ordinary fan.

It was a fan that when extended was considerably large, in turn releasing a colorful silk fabric degrading in warm colors, like fire.

"Obviously, I couldn't forget about this." He handed them to me, I took them carefully, with precision and with a little difficulty I extended them both at the same time.

I stepped away from the table and Alfred to spin around a bit, admiring how the fabric circled around me as it spun, then stopped peacefully and elegantly when I did too.

Now I remember this Deja vu, the gift, the outfit and the fans, that outfit was the first one I wore for my first performance at eighteen, when I had just left the mansion.

"It's obviously not for your size because I don't think it's the right outfit for you yet, but once you grow up and still have dancing in mind, it will be perfect for you Miss [Name]." Alfred said as he approached me with the box in his arms.

"Does Dad know about this?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, miss, he doesn't know."

"Alfred..." I said in a scolding tone, which is ironic considering he's, technically, the adult here.

"I know what you're thinking, and let me tell you that money comes and goes, but this isn't going away for a long time." He placed the box in my arms, until now I had only seen his gaze falter once, but now it happened again.

Before I had thought it was a look of pity.

But now, I only see flashes of guilt. Why?

That guilt in his eyes did not reach his smile, which remained intact.

I let out a small sigh that was later accompanied by a smile.

Without warning he dropped the box along with the fans to hug him, I let my head settle under Alfred's chin, I could feel him smile.

Not that polite smile, a smile he formed because he wanted to.

"Thank you Alfred."

Alfred returned my hug shortly after by stroking my head.

"You're welcome, miss."

As he hugged me, I felt a strange sensation, a gaze that pierced my body and soul. A gaze that I decided to ignore, for now, I just wanted to feel like a part of my past, it was good.

NOTES: I'M REALLY SORRY FOR THE LATENESS, god, I think this is the first time I've had so much trouble with a character's age/timeline. But hey, here you go, eat and ask questions my children.

Because I will be more than happy to answer them💋💋.

And also, any ideas or advice to start the masterlist?

TAGLIST:

@crazycaoticsimp @closetreader1864 @eyeless-kun @welpthisisboring @saiichai @leeiasure @shycreatorreview @bat1212 @vanessa-boo @midnightgrimoire @thereeallink @c4xcocoa @jsprien213 @stargirl404 @chericia @a-lurking-fae @kye-chen-r @alittletiredcry @lfiee @mishkapi @cxcilla @alittlelostmoonchild @ocean-mochi @randomlyappearingartist

[sonderinghiraeth]

Birthday Cake || Stan Pines/Reader

[it's officially my birthday, so of course, i'm churning out a self-indulgent Stan Pines quickfic where it's the readers birthday. eat up <3]

Word Count: 2.6k

[Tags: Smut]

You begrudgingly peeled your eyes open to the same sound of sparrows perched outside the water-colored window sill of the Mystery Shack. You rolled over on the full-sized mattress, reluctant to get up despite the date.

Your birthday.

Not that it meant anything. After the twins took off back down to California Stan gave Soos the keys to the shop and you the keys to the Shack. You can still recall so vividly the way he wrapped his big warm hands around yours, leaning into them.

"Listen, doll, I get it if you wanna skip town." He began, pressing his lips to each one of your knuckles. "But just think of it like a truck driver, yeah? I'll make sure Ford docks us at least once a month."

You still frowned, propped up on his bed. "What do I do when you're gone?"

He smirked. "Whatever you want. Don't let me hold you back. Just stay close to the coast when I come back, yeah? And don't let the place get too dusty." You could tell he was joking, but apart of you continued to ache with a certain loneliness even before he left.

It didn't help in the slightest when you received a phone call from Stan three days before your birthday, hearing the waves more than his own voice from the other side of the line. "Doll? Babydoll! Can ya hear me?" He yelled over the waves.

"Stan? Where are you?" You tried to speak loud enough for Stan to hear, leaning on the wood panel of the kitchen walls.

"Not sure!" He sighed, and you heard him away from the phone. "Sixer! Hold the sails! Gotta talk to the lady!" You heard more shuffling, then the opening and closing of a door as the waves became more background ambiance than a roaring thunder. "Sorry, it's hell out there."

"I could tell, what's going on?"

"Ford says some bullshit about magnetic pulls of a few things called Aqualifers, don't know, look like octopuses with turbines as tentacles to me." He muttered, you could hear him scratching his outgrown stubble over the phone.

"Sounds tedious, and like you haven't got all of them yet." You replied, looking over at your calendar. "How far out are you guys?"

Silence lingered until Stan's deep inhale and exhale echoed over the line. He spoke your name, sincerity laced. "Please don't be upset with me."

"You're not gonna be able to dock for my birthday, are you?" You interrupted him, monotone. It hadn't been the first time Stan wasn't able to dock for a big event.

"I've argued with Ford about it all damn week, sweetheart, he's dead set on taking care of these bastards right now."

Your heart sank, and you couldn't help but slide down the wall until your butt hit the floor. "Guess I'll spend it down at Greasy's with my slice of free pie." Your joke fell flat due to your tone, but you couldn't help it. You were hurt.

"When we get back, I'm gonna make it up to you tenfold baby. Just hold out for me." He pleaded, the winds creaking against the windows and doors over the line.

"I've been holding out for you for months, Stan." You retorted. "You promised me at least one visit a month, it's been two now. I was understanding at first, but it's my birthday." You were trying to not let your temper get ahold of your tongue, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult the longer you stayed away from Stan.

"Count on me by the end of this month, babydoll, I promise you."

You sighed, reeling in your resentful thoughts. You were about to speak, but the sound of a door crashing open interrupted you. "Stanley! Get out here! They're making their way up the boat!"

"Shit, I gotta bounce. I love you!"

You went to reply, but the line went dead as soon as his last word was uttered, leaving you to the same old silence of the shack.

Now your birthday had come to fruition, and the same silence permeated the walls as you exited the room and dragged yourself to brush your teeth, hair, and throw on a shirt and jeans when you should have been getting dolled up for some mid tier lunch Stan would overzealously proclaim was the most top-notch spot in all of Oregon.

When you turned the corner to fix coffee in the kitchen, you practically jumped out of your own skin to Stan's booming voice, yelling "SURPRISE!" while sprawled across the dinning room table, a cake with an indiscernible amount of candles in front of him. He had cleaned up, stubble shaved, and looked showered, in contrast to his usual post-docking look of sweat-stained clothes and borderlining beard.

Your grip on the doorframe slowly loosened at the register that it was Stan, here, in the kitchen when he said he wouldn't be. More than that. He was here with a cake, candles, and a stupid party hat attached to his chin.

"Stan?" You asked just to be sure, still at your post of the doorframe.

"In the flesh." He tutted, nudging the cake closer to your direction. "Come on, don't want wax on the cake."

Your face began to beam the closer you approached him, looking at him one more good time before bending over, and giving the candles a big blow as Stan whooped. "That's my girl!"

You laughed with him, helping Stan up from the kitchen table. "Man, I probably laid there for like, two hours. You should've seen how panicked I looked trying to light those candles when I heard the bedroom door open."

"You didn't have to do all this." You giggled, taking a greedy finger swipe of some cake icing from the edge, and popping it into your mouth. "Being here was sweet enough on its own. You told me you weren't even coming home, what happened to that?"

Stan's look of satisfaction grew. "That pitiful little pitch in your voice when I broke the news to you had me biting Ford's ass to get home. I couldn't stand to do that to you, so we raised hell on those bastards and got out of dodge the following night."

You smiled, chest heavy with something you could only discern as love. "Stan, you didn't have to do that. You could've got hurt."

"Hurt?" He scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Nothing could've hurt me more than missing my favorite girl's birthday." He hummed, finally pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You relished in it, following him towards his lips for more. Stan readily obliged, enveloping you in a kiss as he pulled you up into his arms. You had to restrain yourself from raking your hands through his hair, to do something to confirm he was real and standing here right now and it wasn't just some fucked up dream you were bound to wake up from any minute now.

"Come on, you have a cake to enjoy, and you need time to get dolled up for tonight." He purred, setting you down.

"Where are we going tonight?" You asked, fishing around the cupboards for the plates and forks.

"Finest restaurant in all of Oregon, Chart House."

You paused in your tracks, eyes widened. "Chart House?" You echoed, setting the plates down on the table. "Stan.. That's like, easy hundred dollars per person, without drinks. I don't... Are you sure?"

Stan waved his hand. "Some fancy research institute back in New York paid us an assload for some samples of the anomalies we've found. Ford took a plane ride there this morning." He explained, slicing each of you a piece. "Let's splurge, babydoll."

You smiled, taking a bite of cake. "Too good to me when you are here, y'know? I think I'd be spoiled rotten if you stuck around for more than a few days a month."

Stan laughed, taking his own bite. "Well, you have me all week, meaning I get to spoil you all week."

Your heart swelled, and you sat up from your seat. "Wait, all week? Why?"

"Ford's gonna be aiding in research there, I told him too brainy for me. I'd rather keep my lady company."

You wanted to squeal, but instead, you opted to lean over the table and press another kiss to his lips. "Way too good to me." You whispered in between the kiss.

Stan hummed, and if it weren't for the cake in between the two of you that you were awkwardly maneuvering around, he might've dragged you over the table himself. "Only a fraction of what you deserve."

You leaned back down into your seat, finishing up your cake in giddy silence with Stan.

You had become so used to living alone that it was almost instinct to head over to the sink, running hot water over the dishes. As you went to grab the sponge from the sink, a warm hand gripped at your wrist. "And just what do ya think you might be doin'?" Stan asked from behind you, his brow arched.

You turned back to look at him, cheeks dusted pink. "Washing my plate?"

"The birthday girl? Washing dishes?" He scoffed in disbelief. "Let me see that sponge."

You rolled your eyes. "Stan, I can do it." You insisted, but he turned you around to face him.

"Nuh uh, not havin' it."

You went to argue with him once more, but he stopped you as his took his thumb across the right side of your bottom lip. "Got some frosting still." He muttered, a smirk ghosting over his features.

You found yourself holding your breath, the tension between the two of you sizzled and snapped at each slight movement. You wanted to almost moan from it alone, finally becoming impatient and leaning in to kiss Stan.

Stan readily kissed you back, reaching behind you and turning the sink off before hoisting you up onto the edge of it, then sliding you down to the counter space beside it.

You chuckled, Stan parting the kiss to trail kisses all the way down and around your neck. "Aren't I supposed to be getting dolled up right about now?"

Stan hummed a disagreement. "I have enough time to remind you of your place again." He replied, tugging at your shirt until you indulged him and brought your hands above your head for him to take your shirt off entirely.

You had no bra underneath, much to Stan's delight. It wasn't like you intended to go anywhere today.

"I know we just had cake, but I think I might be ready for some more dessert." He teased, taking one nipple into his mouth.

You sighed out, arching into him. "Stan-" You breathed, a cocktail of plea and somewhat still rationale.

"What? You're telling me you haven't been just aching for me since I left? Don't try to lie to a con man, sweetheart. You were almost floodin' out of the lingerie you were in when I took those pictures of you last time." He muttered in between breasts, recalling the little impromptu Polaroid session Stan begged you into right before he left the last time.

"I have, I have, but-" You bit back a moan when his teeth grazed across your nipple, closing one eye. "I-It's early."

"Early bird gets the worm." He retorted coyly, stubbled kisses trailing to the hemline of your pants.

So, you allowed him to shuck your pants off right there on the kitchen counter. In fact, you might have allowed him to just about do anything to you in that moment. You were still reeling from the adrenaline of your surprise earlier, and just the fact that he ensured he would be here for your birthday was a major turn on.

Stan's fingers dipped into your panties, rubbing your clit to gauge your reaction. You whined, almost edging off the counter to get more pressure from him.

"There's my hungry girl." He whispered, dipping his head lower and down between your legs, having to spread them himself.

When he pushed your panties to the side and his tongue met your folds, you would've sworn you achieved nirvana. There was not a thought nor noise in that pretty little head of yours besides what was in front of you right here. Stan. That was all you ever seemed to care about.

Stan ravaged you with his tongue, licking the entirety of you before going to suck on your clit, using this as his chance to have two fingers glide into your cunt with a shocked yelp from you. However, Stan was absolutely relentless in his ways. He wouldn't be satisfied until you were dripping more than the leaky faucet next to you.

Just as your insides were beginning to clench and quake with your impending climax, Stan left your cunt, causing a crying whine from you in protest. Stan snickered, unbuckling his belt. "Oh, don't think I'm leaving you high and dry, baby, that was just for starters."

Stan guided you off of the counter, and instead, had you turn around and fit yourself over the oak at a ninety-degree angle. Your toes could barely touch the floor like this.

You moaned at just the tip of Stan's cock prodding at your entrance, teasing you as it rubbed back and forth on your clit. "That desperate, huh?" Stan grunted, feigning as if he wasn't just as desperate.

"Always for you." You responded, praying it would send him over the edge.

And over the edge it did. He didn't waste any time plunging himself inside of you, filling you to the brim until the head of him peppered a kiss against your cervix in a deliciously painful jolt to your core.

"Getting your present a little early, guess I'll have to make up for it later." Stan said through gritted teeth, pulling out just to dive back into you with the same force, keeping his pace at that steady pounding rate that drove you further into the counter with each thrust. "Fuck, I can feel all of you like this."

His words alone were enough to restart your incline, moaning shamelessly as it reverberated off the ingredient canisters in front of you. "Stan, Stan please- Oh my God-" You stammered, each syllable coming out chopped from his relentless thrusts.

"That's it, cum on this cock baby, I know that was one of your birthday wishes. Don't gotta play coy with me." He teased, his grip almost bruising to your hips. Just the way you liked it.

Your feet were entirely off the ground at this point, with Stan holding you up by pressing you into the counter, aiding you in feeling the imprint of him every time he re-entered you. You couldn't keep up with him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Stan-" You pleaded, the preemptive clenches of your climax returning with a harsher force.

And then, you unraveled, squeezing around his cock with each tremor and moan you emitted. Stan, ever the shameless, talked you the entire way through it.

"There it is, sweet Moses what a good girl you are, fuck, shit-" And there it was, Stan's cock twitched with his own climax deep inside of you.

Stan's pace slowed, his grip lightened enough to let your feet come back down to the floor. He was so gentle pulling out of you, yet the emptiness that followed was all the same.

The two of you laid and stood there for a second before Stan helped you stand from being bent over the counter, taking in all of you with your pants and panties down to your ankles. He drank you in, a smirk on his lips beginning to indicate a smartass remark.

Stan took two fingers, dragging them along your oversensitive cunt. The feeling alone almost caused you to double over. You had to grab onto Stan's shoulder to keep your knees from buckling as you yelped in protest.

He hummed a chuckle, bringing his fingers to his lips and enveloping them. They stayed there for a second, before he released them with a 'pop!'

Stan paused and gazed up at the ceiling, as if he were assessing a tasting for some sort of fine glass of wine. He then made a 'hmph' of satisfaction, looking at you with half-lidded eyes, the dreaded smirk returning.

"Better than any birthday cake I've ever tasted."

[lucajayms]

fuckin' liar vol 3

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gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

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part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

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masterlist

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warnings: descriptive drug use, angst, needles

-

I don't even remember how I got this room, but it's mine for the time being.

This is probably my deathbed. I'm okay with that. Gerard hates me, so do the fans. Finding a drummer is super easy. It's almost as easy as this needle plunging into my knee as I let the high take over me once more at full force. Oh we are so back.

What is that noise? I sit up groggily as I navigate the objects on the bed. Nope, that's my bag. Fuck, what is making that noise?

Oh, of course it's the cellphone. I bring it to my face as I try to read the number that's calling but it's no use. The guys have such similar numbers I wouldn't even be able to tell who it was if my gut didn't tell me. It's obviously Gerard, who else? Now the question is do I ignore it or not?

God, I don't want to talk to him. After what he said? Nope.

As I lay back on the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling, tears continued to slip down my cheeks. Even through the haze of the drugs, the pain is still there, lurking in the background. I've fucked up big time and there was no taking what I did back. No going back to the first time I tried heroin, no going back to stop myself from getting that first hit. It sucks, I'm going to lose everything I've pushed myself to work hard for.

If I survive this, it's the trust that's gonna be the hardest part.

The phone rings again, and again, and again. It's like it's in my fucking brain. I sigh, swinging my legs off of the bed to see if a shower will calm down my overstimulation. But as soon as the water hits my knee, I double over in pain.

"Fuck!" I scream through my teeth. The area I've been injecting has become infected, but how? I've always cleaned my needles to be sure this didn't happen. But facts don't lie, that shit's infected. But it's okay, I just have to keep it clean and the infection will go away. I'll just switch to the other knee.

Once I'm somewhat clean from the shitty motel shampoo and body wash I step out and wrap myself in a towel, careful not to let the towel swipe the side of my knee. I walk cautiously back to the bed, and the damn phone is still ringing. Could I? Should I?

Fuck.

Grabbing the phone, I flip it open and put the receiver to my ear. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Oh my God, (Y/N). Where the fuck did you go?" Gerard's voice rang from the other line. Of course it was him.

"None of your fucking business," I snap back.

He stayed silent for a second, and I contemplated hanging up, but he spoke up once more. "Fuck, baby. I thought I lost you. Please, where did you go?"

"Away," I say, bluntly. "Don't think I'm coming back. I quit the band."

"You can't fucking quit! YOU started this shit, remember?"

"That was a different me, Gerard," I say, sighing as I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm done." I say before hanging up. Within two seconds, it rings again. Nope.

I stare at it as it rings over and over again. He doesn't care, all he wants is to say he helped someone overcome their demons. He doesn't know how good this is for me. By the fifth time it rings, I can't take it anymore, and in a second of anger, I throw the phone at the wall. Nothing happens to it, the ringing continues, but all I can do is fall backward onto the bed and cry. Cry until all I saw was black.

I stay locked in this small, suffocating space, surrounded by nothing but my thoughts, my drugs, and my tears. The world outside feels like it doesn’t exist, and I don’t want to face it. I can’t bear to confront the mess I’ve made of my life. I spend hours on the bed, staring at the walls, lost in my thoughts while the heroin courses through my veins, dulling the ache just enough to keep me going.

But when the high wears off, that emptiness crashes back in, unbearable and suffocating. It’s a cycle I can’t escape, the drugs promising relief but leaving me more hollow than before. I find myself wondering how I let it get this far, trapped in a cycle that feels impossible to break. Each moment stretches into eternity, and the silence of this room becomes a prison, amplifying the chaos in my mind.

Every time I think about Gerard—the hurt in his eyes, the moment he found me shooting up—it feels like a knife to my chest. I want to call him, to tell him I’m sorry, to ask him to come find me, but I can’t. Shame wraps around me like a suffocating blanket, and I’m too lost to reach out. I replay our fight in my mind, the instant he caught me, his words echoing: he couldn’t be around me if I kept using.

I hate myself for pushing him away, for driving him to that point. But at the same time, I don’t know how to stop. I don’t want to stop. The drugs are my escape, my only way to cope with the overwhelming fear and pain that have become my constant companions. Without them, I’m left with nothing but the rawness of my emotions, the crushing weight of reality pressing down on me. I feel trapped, oscillating between the desperate need for his support and the fear of dragging him down with me. It’s a tormenting cycle, and I’m not sure how much longer I can endure it.

By the fifth day in here, I'm out. I have no choice but to sit an deal with the withdrawal. I’ve been rationing my supply, but the days have blurred together, and now I’m left with nothing but the crushing weight of withdrawal creeping in. My body aches, my head throbs, and the nausea is unbearable. I curl up on the bed, trying to ride out the sickness, but it feels like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out.

By the sixth day, the withdrawal symptoms have become too much. I’m shaking, sweating, my mind racing with anxiety and paranoia. I’m a mess, both physically and mentally, trapped in this motel room that has become my prison. I know I need more heroin, but I don’t have the energy to leave the room. I can’t risk running into someone I know.

As I lie curled up on the bed, my body trembling with the chills of withdrawal, I break down. I want to stop. I want to get better. But I don’t know how. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face the pain without the drugs. Gerard’s voice echoes in my mind, the way he pleaded with me to stop, how he said he couldn’t be around me anymore.

By the seventh day, I’m exhausted—emotionally, mentally, physically. I can’t keep going like this. My body is begging for another hit, but my heart is screaming for help. I need to get out of this motel, out of this dark, suffocating space that has become both my escape and my prison. The fight inside me feels insurmountable, and yet, a small part of me yearns for the strength to break free.

Gerard. My mind keeps going back to him. He doesn't care though, I'm just a junkie to him. A stupid addict who has to depend on fucking heroin to even play a show or function normal, but is this really normal. My eyes go to the phone on the floor from when I threw it a few days ago. Had he left voicemails? Or was he just continuing to call me over and over again.

My thumb flew into my mouth, chewing at the skin already gone in hopes that that would soothe the buzz that wasn't there. There's got to be voicemails on there that he left me. What did he say? Were they bad?

Curiosity got the better of me, and maybe it was time to leave this shit hole.

With trembling hands, I finally pick up my phone, scrolling through the missed calls and messages. There’s one from Gerard, left just an hour ago. His voice comes through, hoarse and broken.

“(Y/N), please, just let me know you’re okay. I don’t care where you are; I just… I just need to know you’re safe. Please.”

Tears well in my eyes as I listen to his message. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear his voice, how much I miss him. The fear wraps around me—fear of what will happen if I keep going down this path, fear of what will happen if I stop. But more than anything, I’m terrified of losing Gerard forever.

For the first time in days, hope burns in my chest. Seriously? I don’t know if I’m ready to stop, but I know I can’t keep running. Not from Gerard, not from myself.

With shaking hands, I dial his number, holding my breath as the phone rings, my heart racing with each passing second, waiting for him to pick up.

But he doesn't.

The cold reality of what I’ve become crashes down on me in waves. Gerard leaves me voicemail after voicemail, his voice growing more desperate each time. But by the time I finally call him, his patience has run dry. He doesn’t pick up. He doesn’t text back. I’m left in a void of silence that terrifies me while also offering a strange comfort. He’s pissed—he’s not going to keep playing this game with me.

My return to LA is quieter than I expect. No frantic calls from my bandmates, no texts from my family. It feels like everyone has given up on me, like they’ve let go and left me to drown in my own mess. In a twisted way, I find peace in that. I find my dealer quickly enough, and the familiar routine resumes. My addiction takes over every part of my life—my time, my thoughts, my body. The numbness becomes my normal, the one constant I can rely on.

And that's the scary part.

[mayuichi]

“... I didn't meant what I said.„

Saigiku Jouno x Reader Warning: unhealthy relationship behaviors (sorry I can't see Jouno be capable to have a healthy relationship with anybody)

Note : I skipped yesterday in my everyday fic because of some sickness, so I have to post twice today woohoo! I really hope I'll feel better soon ughhh

Art from the anime.

Despite the blanket covering your lap, you keep shivering from the cool air. Autumn slowly letting place to winter, December becoming colder day by day. It was one of the snowy days today. Those days you would love to spend home with your boyfriend.

Speaking of which, it was getting late, night already settled down. Yet he still isn't home. It isn't even surprising, he is part of the Hunting Dogs after all. You're used for him to get home extremely late, if just not coming home at all.

Sitting on the sofa, looking at some stupid TV show to pass the time, you're reading a book at the same time. You just want some background noises to not suffocate from the silence. You work too, of course, but your shift finishes at 5pm. It's already been two hours you're trying to kill time.

You have been waiting long enough, you're pretty sure he won't come home anytime soon. Placing down your book and turning the TV off, you make your way to the kitchen. Once again, you'd make food only for yourself. How long has it been since your last meal together ? A bit too long.

Picking each ingredient carefully, you start making yourself dinner, every so often glancing toward the window in case you'd see him come home. While waiting for the cooking to be over, checking from time to time in the oven, you pick your phone.

“I'll lock the front door. Be careful to not wake me up when you'll come home, if you even do. I have to wake up early tomorrow.„

You're pretty sure he won't even read it now. There has always been some ups and downs in between you, but it's been a while since the last good time. You couldn't help but doubt his words again. You sigh, feeling helpless.

Eating alone, you use once more the TV as only company. Does he love me? You question your own mind, knowing damn well it'll only hurt you further. But those questions keep repeating themselves in your mind until the next day.

Even throuhough your shift. You're tensed, so anxious it needs to end. He hasn't answered your last text, and didn't even went home.

Walking home, your head low, you don't want to see anyone. Holding the end of your scarf, you hurry back home. The cold air reddening your nose and ears, your fingers taking a blue tint. You even struggle to open your door, your hands shaking.

Rapidly closing the door behind you, you rub your hands against one another, yearning for some warmth. Without undoing your scarf or jacket, you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself a hot chocolate, only to see a tall figure waiting against the cupboard.

He is facing you, his arms crossed as a smirk adorned his face. “I can feel that you missed me, didn't you ?„ he hums. It isn't truly a question, he already knows the answer. Yet you don't plan on giving him one.

He raises an eyebrow when he hears your steps leaving to the bedroom, where you take off your scarf, jacket and shoes. He follows you close. “Aren't you planning on answering me ? Is it too much to ask to your little self?„

His smirk widens when he feels your heartbeat increase. He absolutely loves the way he can play your emotions like an instrument. So easy to read, and to control. “If you can't even utter a word, then what's the purpose of my presence. I thought you'd jump in my arms. Or perhaps... You don't truly love me ?„

He steps closer and closer, until his slender figure is hovering you, almost pinning you against the wall. Fluttering your eyes shut, anxiety rising in your body, your voice almost breaking as you speak. “I.. should be the one asking you that..„

He huffs in response, unsure of what you are trying to tell him. He brings his fingers under your chin. “Go ahead, word your thoughts then. I am all ears, darling.„

Your breath itchs in your throat. Feeling his soft yet hot breath against your nose, you muttered in a shy voice. “... I know your work asks you a lot of your time but.. You don't even text me...„

You see his expression not faltering even in the slightless. Instead, he just pulls away, sighing in disappointment. “Are you that needy ? Greedy for attention ? You should've known better when you desired to be with me. If you can't keep up, then I might just leave.„

His words sink in your mind. You turn your head away, barely capable to answer. “... I understand...„ it took you all your might to not let your voice break, but he knows better. He knows deep down you're dying from his words.

And even if he feels regret, speaking and admitting them out loud is another thing. He watches as you make your way to the living room, where you snuggle under the blanket and turn the TV on. He has always been cruel, but never going to that extend. Never expressing anything about leaving.

What if he truly does ? Would it make him feel better ? But you, in all that ? Does he think about how you feel ? You endured all his words, and his sadist behavior all the time, for only little to no comforting moment. You just have to handle it. Yet you are at your breaking point.

Drowning your sorrow and pain in that stupid show. It's all you can do if you don't want your mind to make you suffocate. The night quickly arrives, and with that, the cold breeze from the open window too.

Too absorbed into forgetting your aching heart, you don't hear the footsteps making their way to close the window. “Darling,„ his tone surprisingly sweet. “Here. I wouldn't want you to freeze.„

He places a hot chocolate in front of you on the coffee table, sitting down next to you. He doesn't try to touch you in any way though, surely knowing it isn't the time for it. You stare at the gentle treat he gives you.

You hesitantly reach for the cup, feeling its warmth spreading through your hands. You see him pick the TV remote to lower the volume. He lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

“... Why do you act so kind suddenly ?„ you breath out, quietly blowing on the hot chocolate before taking a sip. You can hear him gulp. Perhaps he feels remorse now..

“... I didn't meant what I said.„ it's so hard for him to admit he's wrong. It makes you giggle, and you don't hide it, which makes him have a faint blush. He clears his throat, “... Don't laugh like that. It isn't fun.„

“Yet it would've been if I were the one to apologise.„ you sigh, keeping your eyes on that sweet drink he made you. He leans over you, his head almost resting on your shoulder.

“... I promise to make an effort, but please, don't leave yet. I want you to stay. It's better with you.„ it's the first time he shows himself being vulnerable. Yet, everyone has insecurities and weak side, right ? But he doesn't want anyone to see it. You're the only exception.

“If you don't push me to leave again, then... I won't. I love you also for your harsh words, but.. Just, don't make me feel like I'm a burden.„

He presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. You hope he'll change his behavior, but you can't be sure he will. You just allow yourself to doubt. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing it in a comforting gesture.

“You can't be a burden. You make me have another purpose than just serve for justice. You make me feel alive.„

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not repost, copy or translate it without permission.

[crocobuggy]

✹ umami ; sanji ; ch. 1

content warnings: rimming, cumshot, sanji being a sweetheart ✹ read on ao3 author's note: this was the first op fic i wrote and my sanji is kinda heavily canon divergent >:)

To you and Sanji, as roommates, cooking together had become a sort of routine. Whether it was a huge feast for you and your friends, or just a meal for two, being together always made being in the kitchen fun. You'd be in the kitchen talking, singing and dancing for hours on end, until all the food was ready to serve, which was honestly one of the highlights of your day. He was your best friend, and being together was always a nice way to unwind after a particularly stressing afternoon.

And yet again, here you were, cutting different vegetables with him to make some curry for dinner. There's music playing in the background, slightly muffled by the noise of water boiling. Sanji's currently putting away the carrot and potato peels inside the fridge, as well as getting a cauliflower so that he can cut a few smaller pieces of it. "Everything alright?" He says, and you can feel his breath on the back of your neck as he leans in to see what you're doing, and it sends chills down your spine. He smells like a mix of spices, cologne and cigarette smoke, and it's oddly comforting to you. "Yeah." You say in a low voice, trying to keep your composure.

You know you shouldn't take Sanji's teasing and proximity seriously. You've seen him flirting with various women way more times than you could remember, and as time went by since you moved in together, you knew better than to think anything of it, especially between you two. "Great. I'll go cut the meat and cauliflower." His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and he winks at you, ready to take care of his part. You slowly cut the potatoes and carrots into cubes, and when you're done, you put them in the boiling water.

When you're done, you sit on the small table in the kitchen corner and stare at Saji while he cuts the food. You're impressed at how carefully he does it, trying to waste as little as possible. His hands do everything so delicately and precisely. You couldn't help but to wonder what other things his hands could do. Was he always this gentle and careful? Or was he rough-

"[Name]?" Sanji is trying to call you back to Earth, and you happily oblige, looking at him with a smile. "I've called you three times! Are you okay? I want you to try a bit of the sauce to see if it's good or if it needs more spice." At this, you stand up and walk to the stove, looking inside the pan and sticking two fingers in the sauce. Sanji's gonna kill you. "Hey, don't put your fingers in the--" His speech is interrupted when he sees you putting your curry-coated fingers in your mouth, and his eyes widen.

He had always looked at you differently, though he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. Something about you just made him go so soft, but this? Sanji was about to lose it looking at you sucking on your fingers. He couldn't not think about what you'd look like sucking on his fingers, maybe even something else. Even though he felt guilty for thinking such dirty things about his best friend, it wasn't his fault. Right? It was all in his head.

Plus, it was all on you, for being so damn gorgeous. He could spend hours thinking about kissing your plump lips, caressing your hair, running his hands through each and every single curve of your body, looking into your pretty eyes. There was just something about you that drove him insane. "Sanji?" His thoughts of you are interrupted by your voice, as you lick what's left of the sauce from your thumb. Something in you seems to snap after you see his reaction, and you feel like teasing him a little bit. "What? Like what you see?"

At this point, Sanji's cheeks are burning like wildfire, and he steps closer to you. "Yes," he says, grabbing your clean hand and pulling you closer. "You have no idea of what you do to me, [Name]. You have no fucking idea." He mutters under his breath, his face inching closer to yours each second. Oh my God. Is he really going to-

Before you can even say anything, he starts kissing you passionately, sinking his teeth on your lower lip. "If you want me to stop, tell me and I will." You nod. "Are you sure about this, Sanji?" There's a million things going through your mind. What will it be after this? How will you face your best friend? Will you still be best friends?

Fuck it. You figure the both of you will settle that later. For now, you just want to lose yourself in his touch, as you let out a low moan when he presses his body onto yours. You can feel his bulge pressed against your stomach, and start squeezing your legs together. He has no idea of what he's doing to you.

Sanji lifts your old shirt and tucks his hand on the waistband of your sweatpants. "May I?"

You nod, and mutter a plea under your breath.

[mickimagnum]

Devin's Dude Ranch: Episode Four

*the episode opens with a shot of Echo Valley Ranch. the sun sits low in the graying sky and the trees cast their long shadows across the ground.*

Devin, in diary room: "Tonight is our first group date and I'm so excited to get to spend more quality to time with the guys! I mean, I've missed them! Is that weird?" *lets out an unintentional snort laugh* "I know I just saw them all yesterday for the nectar making contest, but it's not like we actually got a chance to talk or bond or anything. So, yeah. I'm looking forward to tonight."

*next shot shows the contestants lined up in front of Devin. They are standing in the backyard of the house.*

Devin: "Hi guys! I hope you're all excited as I am about tonight because it's our first group date!"

*the contestants whoop in reply which makes Devin grin and blush slightly*

Devin (continues): "I know it's a little chilly out, but I have just the thing to keep us warm..."

Devin: "A weenie roast!"

*enthusiastic murmuring spreads among the contestants*

Devin: "Alright, why don't we head over to the fire pit and get comfortable?"

*everyone chooses a seat around an already roaring fire and looks to Devin expectantly. there's a beat of uncomfortable silence that follows.*

Devin: "So...you'll all have to forgive me if I'm a bit awkward. This is my first time going on a date with five dudes at the same time."

*chuckles ripple throughout the group*

Devin (continues): "There are dinner kits next to everyone's chairs if you're hungry. Otherwise, I thought we could just talk. Get to know each other better. To get things going I thought we could go around and all share something fun about ourselves. How about what's the silliest thing you've ever searched on the internet?"

*the group laughs again*

Stan: "Only if you go first, missy."

*more laughter, with Devin joining in*

Devin: "Alright, fair enough."

*she pauses a moment to consider her answer while the group looks on*

Devin: *chokes on a laugh* "Oh my Watcher. I can't believe I'm about to admit this to you guys. Okay. So, my cousin, Lacey, got me an AirTag because, and you should all know this about me, I am infamous for losing my keys. Well, needless to say, I lost 'em. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember exactly how she said the AirTag worked, so I pulled out my phone and searched," *pauses, covers her mouth with her hand, and squeezes her eyes shut* "Find my keys."

*the group howls with laughter*

Devin: "I know! I know! It was so dumb! But cut me some slack, okay? I'm not the most technically savvy!"

*as the laughter subsides, she turns to Houston*

Devin: "Your turn, cowboy."

Houston: "Hmmm....," *settles back in his seat and thinks for a few beats*

Houston (continues): "Alright. This one seems silly now, in hindsight. But, it was really late at night and I hadn't had much sleep and I had been writing for almost ten hours straight. But, I searched," *pauses briefly and smiles to himself*, "Does grammatical phrasing and ending dictate the relationship between syntax and the poetic line?"

*the group is so quiet the only sound are the crickets singing in the background*

Milo: "I don't get it."

*Devin looks slightly confused*

Houston: "Well, you see..."

Stan: "Don't even try, man. We're all too dumb to understand."

*the group breaks out into laughter again*

Handra: "I'll go next."

Devin: "Awesome. Let's hear it!"

Handra: "I'm kinda ashamed to admit, but this is something I have searched for on more than one occasion," *surprised hissing emanates from the people around him* "Yeah, I know. But, I can never remember which one is the damn salad fork."

*Handra laughs nervously*

Albert: "Wait, didn't you also work in a restaurant?"

*Handra's head droops*

Handra: "Yes."

Devin: "Well, I don't think you'll have to worry about that around here. My philosophy is one fork for everything."

Houston: "Who has time for all those extra dishes, am I right?"

*Devin glances over and grins at Houston*

Devin: "Nail. Head."

*the two share a moment of eye contact before Stan clears his throat*

Stan: "Well, mine was an almost search. I started to type it in and thought it was too stupid and stopped myself."

Albert: "Oh, I gotta hear this."

*Devin looks to Albert*

Devin: "*Bleep*, me too."

*Stan grins and chuckles to himself*

Stan: "As I'm sure y'all have figured out by now, I'm very fond of my coffee. Well, one day I almost searched caffeine overdose. Isn't that ridiculous? Can you imagine?"

*Devin glances around the group with a worried expression*

Devin: "Umm...Stan. Caffeine overdose is a real thing. I mean, it's not super common, but it even kills people."

*Stan's face falls*

Stan: "What?"

*His eyes search the faces of the other contestants who are nodding to him in confirmation*

Stan: "Well, *bleep*."

*Houston reaches over and pats Stan on his shoulder*

Houston: "Sorry, buddy."

Milo: "I guess I'll go, " *he sighs and leans forward, resting his arm on his leg*, "I don't have the best memory. Probably because I've been hit in the head too many times. But, to make a long story short, I couldn't member my Mom's phone number so i had to search it after I got a new phone," *buries his face in his hand and laughs* "Which is really, really sad."

*the group laughs meekly, almost as if unsure if they should or just feel sorry for him*

Devin: "Awww! I'm not going to lie. I've been there. I mean, not with family. but with someone else I probably should have known their number."

Milo: "Thanks, Devin. At least I know I'm not alone."

*Devin winks across the fire at Milo*

Devin: "You're up, Albert."

Albert: "Can you milk cowplants?"

*the group sits in stunned silence for a moment, processing what Albert just said*

Albert (continues): "That was my search. And I already know what you ranchers are going to say," *holds up his hand to use a puppet and takes his voice up an octave* "Of course cowplants don't product milk, Albert. They're not actually cows. They're aliens," *his voice shifts back to normal* "Thank you, everyone. I found that out when I searched."

*Albert laughs and plants his face in the palm of his hand*

*the group bursts out into laughter, everyone except Stan*

*Stan has Albert locked in a steely stare, the hot dog he's been roasting now turning black in the open flame*

*indistinct conversation and laughter can be heard as a low buzz begins to fade in*

*conversations fade out as the buzz grows louder*

*Stan's glare begins shifting to each of the men around the fire*

Stan, in diary room: "I don't know what happened. I was just sitting there, and suddenly a wave of...intense jealousy came over me. Getting Devin's attention in this pack of wolves feels *bleep*ing impossible. This is going to be so much harder than I thought."

*the camera cuts back to the campfire. everyone is locked in their own conversations.*

Houston: "You know, I'm not exactly a fan of technology, either."

Devin: "Oh yeah?"

*Houston nods solemnly*

Houston: "Since the war."

*Devin's face softens*

Devin: "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

Houston: "No. It's okay. I want you to know."

*she nods and leans closer*

Houston: "It's just, that I've seen what we've made technology into. What it's capable of. The horrors it can inflict. I guess, it's made me not trust it."

Devin: "I don't think anyone can fault you for that. Least of all me."

*the two lock eyes and share a moment of comfortable silence*

*after an obvious time lapse, the next shot is focused on Devin*

Devin: "Guys, this has been a lot fun but unfortunately, it's time to call it a night. I hope you had as much fun as I did."

*everyone gets to their feet, hug Devin, and begin making their way into the house*

*Devin begins to head inside when Houston hurries behind her*

Houston: "Devin! Wait!"

*Devin glances over her shoulder before stopping in her tracks and turning to wait for Houston to catch up*

Houston: "This is probably against the rules or whatever, but I don't care."

*he reaches out, takes her hand, and pulls her gently against him.*

*Devin smiles in surprise*

Houston (continues): "I've been dying to do this and I couldn't wait any longer."

*Houston wraps his arm around Devin's waist and as she drapes hers across his shoulder. their faces are inches apart*

Devin: "So do it, already."

*she now cradles his face, her eyes burning into his*

*Houston smiles down at her*

*after a beat Houston leans forward, eagerly kissing Devin for the first time.*

*she meets his lips with a soft moan*

*Houston gently tightens his grip on her*

Houston, in diary room: "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. But, suffice to say, this is one of my most magical nights of my life."

Devin, in diary room: "He kissed me. He *bleep*ing kissed me." *swoons*

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Houston submitted by @invisiblequeen James "Stan" submitted by @natolesims Albert submitted by @bakersimmer Milo submitted by @belsasim Handra submitted by @bloomingkyras

[mikailys]

F: Am I disturbing you, by any chance?

i see this goddamn man and i lose it istg i want to punch him so bad.

i was trying to catch up with hsl on my other acc where i'm following nath's route and i saw the devil. i just hoped to never see him again in-game and yet here we are.

and oh my. wasn't i lucky enough to meet him again not once, but twice in the same episode, in the span of 5 minutes.

i'll just do a rant about this part of the episode because it's unbelivable that this is the only part i got covered before my ap brutally finished i only wanted the illus :(

also sorry if i'm being inaccurate in certain parts but i got back into the game recently and probably forgot some background info/context.

F: Nathaniel has always wanted to study Engineering at University.

N: *not very amused by it – comprehensibly*

i had no idea that during hsl ep40 he would attend the graduation ceremony – or maybe he did and nvm i don't remember it i mean it's been 5 years since i've last played it – and he had the guts to still impose himself and talk about nath like that. after everything that happened and with all the parents, kids and professors around?

god. like haven't you learned anything, have you, dumb fuck?

N: I have to stop by my parents' house because I need to take some stuff. But seeing how the wind is blowing, I don't really want to go there alone.

another thing i wouldn't have imagined is that we would actually go back to this old house. i can only predict where this is heading.

N: This house holds only bad memories.

C: Don't worry. I'm with you.

N: Yeah, thanks God. *cutely smiles*

bambolottino che sei ti abbraccio patatino cucciolino :(

and then we enter into his house and meet – again, unfortunately – that amazing person his dad is, who is never, ever satisfied and he can kindly go fuck off for as far as i'm concerned.

F: What was that foolish act you delight us with during the ceremony? (...) You understood very well. I'm talking about your speech. We have come to expect the best from you.

C: (Nathaniel takes a deep breath, to handle his increasing anger)

F: I wonder if you have anything left of what we taught you to make such a scene.

N: Dad, you really want to talk about what you taught me?

exactly f-word, do we wanna talk about what you and your lovely wife taught him? to always achieve perfection? to be scared to walk through the front door and spend the evening at the dining table with his family? cause, believe me, i wouldn't be so proud.

i guess we have different ideas about these so-called "teachings" you two gave him then.

anyway we leave with nath and then the most incredible thing happens. our soon-to-be father-in-law – omg bless candy's soul – calls us thieves. lol.

it's pure comedy at this point.

F: Don't play the innocent. I caught you in the act, you're peeking around. It's a hobby, right? For you to just stick your nose where you shouldn't.

well first i'm pissed you're thinking i'm a thief and second, i'm even more pissed because you're kinda right, snooping in people's business is actually candy's job so can't really argue on that.

C: I wonder what could I even stole in this house.

F: I don't know. You tell me. *damn chill bro*

C: Maybe your house is very big, but it lacks of the most important things.

anyway it's so funny that in italian - the language i'm playing the game in - he just keeps using the formal pronouns and i say it's funny because it seems like that behind his serious tone he's constantly trying to mock us in a kinda patronizing way.

but we're the bigger person and, even if i'm seething we can't be too unpolite to him, so we just tell him that his house sucks because there's no love within its walls.

politest person ever.

but spoiler he doesn't take it very well.

anyway to sum it up, he just says candy is responsible for nath's sudden change and for making himself look ridiculous in front of the whole school.

obviously we don't support any nathaniel's slander, for now, and we are ready to take over this insane situation by praising our bf who was right down the hallway, listening to this all madness.

N: None of this will make me look better in my father's eyes.

damn. that kinda hit close to my home too

after this argument we leave since we're good to go. but on the doorstep we're blocked by the best of wives and best of women (derogatory) who, unexpectedly, wants us to stop by and celebrate the graduation with the family – oh my.

okay i'm not gonna lie but for a millisecond i felt bad for adelaide. only a millisecond 'cause then i quickly regained consciousness.

i appreciate she's understanding the situation and that she still cares about her son wellbeing – in some twisted way – but i cannot excuse she was an accomplice to her husband's mistreating and beating and the fact she wouldn't report any of it if it wasn't for candy it's gutwrenching.

regardless, nath doesn't want to spend another minute in that house – understandably. when they're about to leave, adelaide takes candy by her arm and tells her to please keep an eye on his son and we, taken by an unusual kindness, accept, encouraging her to pay him a visit.

how sweet candy is.

just like a candy i'm so sorry but it was served on a silver plate

and after that we're done. nath takes us back to our home and asks us if the day after we want to go to his place, since we have never been there before – which it takes me by surprise cause i can't believe you two have been together for almost 14 episodes and you have never found a moment to go to his house before.

candy tells him that first she has to ask to his parents – but we already know she will go cause they have to do the deed – and that's all cause i finished my ap right after this dialogue :|

this ep with the new – not very new now but for me it still is – ap mechanic is exhausting. 550 ap just to fight with nath's parents really did the thing and i still couldn't finish the ep.

to think i still have to continue university life and start love life haha...

anyway to conclude: fuck nath's parents 🖕🏻

[mdhwrites]

Not sure if you've talked about him already, but what's your opinion on Matt Tholomule as a character? I feel like he's one of the very few (if not the only) characters who wasn't reduced to a softie after redemption like Amity/Lilith/Hunter

So 1. Shockingly enough, I never have and I'll get into probably why in a moment. 2. I can't be certain in my analysis here as I have only seen clips of For the Future and I'm not going to dig for his parts for this blog so I haven't seen all that he becomes but I have an idea. That idea also says that... Yeah, you're not wrong actually. Arguably, Lilith is soft enough and treated enough like a joke in S1 that TECHNICALLY her personality is intact post redemption. However, even if you argue that, she still seems like a parody of who she used to be.

Which... is actually kind of true Matt too. Why it works better here is that rather than make fun of a character's trauma and disregard their background, Matt was always a bit of a joke and his final form is actually steeped in who he was. We were never supposed to take him that seriously which is... a mixed bag for him. I'm going to say a lot of nice things at least conceptually about where he ends up but I want to make something clear: I barely think of Matt normally. I will entirely forget he was in the show because he is extremely forgettable. The situation he's in and his plight are always far more interesting than "Kind of bad at being a jerk/bully" which is his primary personality for two of his three main appearances. He's just not got a strong enough personality for two seasons to leave much of an impression and for a supporting cast's supporting member, you need to make a bigger splash than he ever did to be remembered.

But then we get S3 where we get just that. The boy, from my understanding, turns himself into a god damn comic book character and its glorious. And... It actually makes sense. Matt always had an ego and a desire for attention but he was missing two things to get to the point he's at now. The first was a better morale compass so that he could be a good guy and that part we get to see. The other is a proper community and support around him so he wasn't always looking over his shoulder. I... don't know how much that part is true to For the Future but the clips I've seen imply that he's at least not being disregarded or constantly have to prove himself anymore. He's just another member of the resistance which is a HELL of a lot better than he's had before.

This leads to all that bubbling confidence coming out into a glorious mess that absolutely fits how some teens try to act 'mature' by acting confidant. By celebrating things like stubble and proclaiming to the mirror "I AM A MAN NOW!" Buuut it also seems like the show was kind enough to not make him purely the butt of jokes like this but actually allow him to show that he's a good guy nowadays. He still prioritizes things like Amity's safety and what not after all. Again, I don't know how accurately but what I've seen theoretically shows me that yeah, For the Future did do something right.

Hell, as a moment of positivity: In a vacuum, the main thing I truly don't approve of in For the Future conceptually is Kikimora. There is no reason to have her back, let alone not beat her there. But if this was a pair of episodes in a full 20 episode season, they could have potentially been a highlight of the season. There's a lot of good character stuff conceptually here and it's utilizing the fact that the side characters can be fun in TOH, even if many of them have been turned more into like the twins where they're pretty bland now that they're purely good as well. But... That's in a vacuum where this didn't end up being a filler episode in a three episode season where so many critical elements are just left hollow while we spend time with characters who haven't mattered for an entire season. *sigh*

Still, I'm happy for Matt fans that their character got such a good ending.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[jamgoesart]

Now on Wattpad

Reading sample

》

Restless, Sierra began to twitch, toss and turn, until a few minutes later she woke up with a scream of "No. It took her a few seconds to realize that everything was okay. A nightmare. Again. The recurring nightmare.

Breathing heavily, Sierra sat up and looked around. Everything was fine, she was sitting in her car. Apparently, she had spent half the day there again. It was not uncommon for her to spend the night and the rest of the day in the car, even though she had her own apartment. She spent most of her time in the car anyway, because that's how she made a living. As a "blocker" or "stopper" or on courier runs.

"How long is this going to haunt me?" an exhausted Sierra ran her hands through her hair and then rubbed her face with her hands, "A year."

A damn year it had been. So she wouldn't get rid of it so fast, Sierra thought and shook her head. Very slowly she straightened up, stretched until she heard her neck crack, and just stared for a while through the windshield, where the sun was about to set. It was time to get back to her apartment. A nice hot shower and something to eat would do wonders sometimes, and not to forget to pack some new, fresh clothes.

"It's still a little early," Sierra answered the incoming call, turning up her ringer as she drove through the city, "What are you really up to?"

"Not today. We're meeting in Atlanta in four days. "In the background, Sierra heard a few people arguing, but not about what. "Man, I'm on it....sorry, Gen. What did you say?"

"I'm leaving," Sierra skipped the question and parked her car in the driveway, "Anything interesting?"

"No, not really," as if, Sierra thought, because Marko wouldn't call me for nothing, "Just get to Atlanta as soon as you can. Call me when you get there and I'll meet you in Centennial Park. Atlanta. Not Nashville, not Toronto. Atlanta."

"Got it," Sierra interrupted Marko and just hung up.

Back at the apartment, Sierra went straight to the bathroom, took a shower and packed a bag with new clothes. Then she went to the kitchen, grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and went back to the car. She hadn't eaten in two days, she realized now, and only now did she realize how hungry she really was. After opening the driver's door and falling into the seat, she took a bite of her sandwich, which was just about to expire, and looked down the street.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

"Barney Ross," an older man greeted his old friend as he walked up to him, "How long has it been?"

"Too long," Barney greeted his old friend Bonaparte, "How's life in Vegas?"

"It's nice here.... Don't distract me," Bonaparte smiled, "You came to Vegas to visit a friend for a reason. What can I do for you?"

"Same old thing," Barney replied, taking a swig from his beer bottle, "I'm looking for a team."

"A new team?", confused, Bonaparte looked at his long-time friend, for this was not Barney's style, "What happened to the old one?"

■

Suspiciously, Barney looked around, trying to figure out why Atlanta of all places. In the middle of the night, mind you. That 'we're meeting at a little after ten' didn't exactly make everything look right, but that wasn't the problem. Some of the things the Expendables did were beyond the law. After all, there were mercenaries for such tasks.

For now, no need to worry, just wait and see, Bonaparte told his friend as the two men walked down the street, stopping when a group of cars came into view. A possible candidate, but to Barney it was just a couple of kids with cars, causing Bonaparte to let out a chuckle.

"I hope this kid isn't a bust like the last one," but Bonaparte started to shake his head at Barney's words, "What else was he supposed to be? Ex-Navi?"

"Surely no one could have guessed that his resume wasn't entirely kosher," Bonaparte defended himself, pointing at the people gathered about twenty meters away from them, "You'll like my current candidate, and so will Christmas. But only if he can handle the competition, of course."

"He can't," Barney replied evenly, one corner of his mouth turned up, knowing his long-time competitor and friend very well, "What makes you think Christmas can?"

"Knives," was all the explanation that came from Bonaparte.

Three young men, in their early to mid-twenties, walked over from their cars to a blond boy and handed him a bundle each; the boys nodded at each other and a few words were exchanged.

"So," interjected a brunette girl who had slammed the car door and hurried across the street as if it were too late, "what's up?"

"Gen," the brunette was greeted by the blonde, and they both clenched their fists, "the usual. Two hundred meters off the main road."

An all clear followed, the brunette nodding in agreement as she walked back to her car, started the engine and drove off.

The rest of the small crowd began to cheer as eight people walked to their cars, got in, and drove to the makeshift starting line, which consisted of tape on the ground. Those who had been standing in the street cleared the way and the blond walked to the red line to give the starting signal. As he dropped the flag on the ground, the cars sped off, their engines roaring.

When Barney asked which of the people present they were both here for, Bonaparte simply took his little book out of his pocket, flipped through it, and then put it back in his pocket. No answer, great, Barney thought, and let it go for now. As the people ran forward and began to cheer, Bonaparte tapped his friend on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow.

Both men stood in the crowd to get a better look at who would return first. A dark green car was heading straight for the finish line; the distance to the others was a good car length, but Bonaparte pointed to the opposite side of the street where the brunette's matte black car came to a stop.

"La Santa," Bonaparte said, with Barney in tow, approaching the brunette who was just getting out of her car to join the group, "La Santa Muerte."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the brown-haired woman replied coolly, only giving them a quick glance.

"Sierra Génesis Salamanca," was Bonaparte's reply, causing the brown-haired girl to stop, nod, and turn around with a panting, miss brave look, "Why not? Don Emiliano's little darling."

"What do you want?" replied Sierra, whose voice had become weaker than it had been a minute ago, "or much more from my father?"

To offer you a job. Not a deal, not a business deal, but a job, and for you. Not your father.

[choccos-aaart]

Astra vs the Polymorph #1 - A glimpse into the lives of class B-5!

DESCRIPTION: The crew's just chilling.

CHARACTERS: All of class B-5, polymorph

KEY WORDS: Comedy, survival "horror"

EXT. OUTER SPACE

A pod appears floating around in space. As it rotates, the pod reveals a hole on its surface, torn open by force.

SFX: Beep, beep…

NARRATOR: Danger. Do not attempt to open this pod. The creature inside is extremely hostile. It feeds off the human psyche, seeks out the deranged, the unbalanced and the emotionally crippled.

SFX:  Beep, beep…

INT. DINING ROOM.

Aries, Quitterie, and Yun-Hua play a game of cards. They are playing Lucky 9, gambling with a collection of shiny pebbles and rocks they found on a previous planet. Aries, with the most pebbles, is the banker. Funicia spectates.

ARIES: Who wants another card?

QUITTERIE: No thanks. My cards are too good for this dang game. I'm gonna beat all of you.

YUN-HUA: Hey-! Isn't it us against Aries...?

QUITTERIE: Oh right, yeah. Whoops.

ARIES: Hm. Quitterie, if you wanna be the banker next round, I'll let you.

QUITTERIE: That's what I've been saying this whole time! 

ARIES: Really?

QUITTERIE: OMG, yeah duh! How'd you not hear me?

ARIES: I mean, all your yapping sounds the same to me, tee-hee!

QUITTERIE: (Gasp!) O-M-G! You're so gonna pay for that!

ARIES: Alright! How about a deal? If the two of you beat me this round, you get to be banker.

YUN-HUA: 'Kay

QUITTERIE: What! That is so unfair!

ARIES: Ok! How about you Funi? Join us!

FUNICIA: Ok!

QUITTERIE: Um, let's not teach gambling to a fourth-grader.

ARIES: Aww, it's not like we're playing with real money so it's totally fine!

QUITTERIE: Alright, fine! But I'll add to the deal. (Smirks) If Funi beats all of us, I get to be the banker!

ARIES: (With mild sarcasm, except with her usual enthusiasm) Oh, you're not just getting Funi involved for your own gain, are you?

QUITTERIE: Alright, then Funi and I get to be bankers. How's that?!

ARIES: (Cheerfully) It's a deal! But we have to restart the round because Funi's with us now.

QUITTERIE: NOOO! 

INT. KITCHEN

Luca sits on a kitchen counter while Ulgar, gun in hand, stands in front of him. Luca seems enthusiastic. In the background, Kanata does his cleaning duties.

ULGAR: Lesson one.

LUCA: Man, oh man, this is so exciting! 

ULGAR: Shut up.

Ulgar holds out his hands as if he's about to clap.

ULGAR: Now hold your hands like that.

Luca holds up his hands.

ULGAR: Now clap.

Luca smiles doubtingly. He claps.

ULGAR: Faster.

Luca claps again, faster.

ULGAR: Now as fast as you can.

Luca hesitates then claps again with extra strength. But, before his hands could meet, Ulgar pulls his gun between them. Luca exclaims with astonishment.

ULGAR: Now you try.

Ulgar puts out his hands and starts clapping at random intervals. Luca stares confusedly.

LUCA: Hey what the hell! I don't know when you go!

Ulgar smirks.

ULGAR: That's just real life.

LUCA: C'mon man, I thought I asked you to teach me to shoot, not play red hands or something.

ULGAR: This is... serious. It's reflexes.

LUCA: Damn, you didn't even have this whole thing planned. Boo!

ULGAR: Reflexes are important!

LUCA: Yeah, whatever! ...Unless, this is just some excuse to spend some nice recreational time with your best friend. That's oddly sweet of you, Ulgar!

Ulgar's face turns slightly red.

ULGAR: Shut up! I'm teaching you to shoot.

LUCA: Then teach me to shoot, man! Where d'you get these lesson ideas from?

Ulgar doesn't say anything.

LUCA: ... So? 

ULGAR: ...Ugh. Forget it.

Kanata looks back from wiping the stovetop.

KANATA: No way! Ulgar, you're referencing a cowboy movie!

ULGAR: Shut up.

KANATA: Oh dude! I got some cool old westerns stored in a drive somewhere. We totally gotta watch them sometime!

ULGAR: Shut up!

LUCA: (To Kanata) Yeah, get back to cleaning!

KANATA: BRO! You guys are supposed to be helping us, too! You got time to lean, you got time to clean - now let's go boys!

He continues wiping the counter.

ULGAR: Hmph.

LUCA: "Us"? I thought you were doing everything yourself.

KANATA: Damn it, where's Charce?! Mr Perfect pretty-boy better not be checking out his reflection or somethin'

Charce carries a pile of dishes over to the sink.

CHARCE: What?

KANATA: Oh good! Thanks so much for the help!

INT. DINING ROOM

Aries, Qitterie, Yun-hua and Funicia continue playing Lucky 9.

ARIES: Uh-oh you guys~ My cards are looking kinda good!

QUITTERIE: I got crap cards... Gimme another card please!

YUN-HUA: Ohh... I would like another card too, please.

Aries tosses Yun-Hua and Quitterie a card each. Quitterie squints in disappointment. So does Yun-Hua.

FUNICIA: I'm happy with mine!

QUITTERIE: Are you sure you know what you're doing?

FUNICIA: Yup! I've seen you guys play so I'm sure I know enough

ARIES: Ok! Three, two, one, REVEAL!

Everyone tosses her cards on the table. Quitterie and Yun-Hua more shamefully than the rest.

QUITTERIE: Seven.

YUN-HUA: Ten...

ARIES: Six!

QUITTERIE: Hold on, did you say six? WHAAAAT!!!

ARIES: HA-AH-AH-Ah-AH-AH-AH-AH!!!

Quitterie shakes Yun-hua's shoulder with defeat and desparation.

QUITTERIE: GIIIRRRLLL! We cou'dve beaten Aries if you didn't ask for that other card!

YUN-HUA: Oh, I'm sorry! She just looked so confident, I wasn't so sure if I should've gambled or not...

ARIES: This is a bluffing game, silly! 

YUN-HUA: Aw...

QUITTERIE: Funi! How about you?

FUNICIA: Mine add up to twelve.

We see Quitterie on the floor, defeated. She sighs massively.

QUITTERIE: ...Yun-Hua, this is all your fault, so as a consequense, you gotta tell us a secret!

YUN-HUA: U-uh...

Quitterie sits up.

QUITTERIE: I'll make it easier for you! How about... Tell us something totally embarrassing you did when you were 13.

YUN-HUA: Oh gosh...

Aries, Quitterie, and even Funicia smile at Yun-Hua eagerly.

YUN-HUA: Oh… Ok…! Um…

She pauses for a moment. Suddenly…

YUN-HUA: Oh, I need to go to the bathroom…!

ARIES: Aww, what?

QUITTERIE: Nice excuse, girl! C’mon, let us hear it!

YUN-HUA: No, I’m serious! 

QUITTERIE: You’re trying to avoid answering, aren’t you?

YUN-HUA: I promise, I’m not trying to avoid anything! I’ll be right back.

ARIES: Really?

YUN-HIA: No, really!

QUITTERIE: Okay~

YUN-HUA: Besides…! I can’t think of anything right now, but maybe when I come back I’ll give you something good. Really! Okay?

QUITTERIE: Hah… Whatever you say. We’ll be waiting!

INT. CORIDOOR.

Zack, walks down the hallway. He notices Kanata. Over to Kanata, we see him dust off his pants.

KANATA: Whew! That was fun! (pause) Huh? Hey Zack!

ZACK: Kanata, I need to talk to you in private.

KANATA: ‘K!

INT. ZACK'S ROOM

Zack leads Kanata inside.

KANATA: So! Wussup?

ZACK: There appears to be a non-human life form aboard this ship.

KANATA: What?

ZACK: Our ship has been invaded by an alien.

KANATA: I know that but… What does it mean?

ZACK: I don’t know. However, it could be hostile so we must be alert.

KANATA: Alright! I’ll keep my eyes peeled from now on!

ZACK: Good. And so will I!

KANATA: We gotta let the others know. At a good time. When d’you think?

ZACK: Hm… Let’s see… In ten minutes from now, it should be-

A quiet, tense conversation can be heard from another room alerts Kanata and Zack.

??? (from another room): So you didn’t know I even came on this trip?

YUN-HUA (from another room): I’m s-sorry! I didn’t mean–

??? : Enough. I don’t want to hear another measly excuse from you.

KANATA: What n’ the… Someone’s talking down Yun-Hua…!

ZACK: But who?

YUN-HUA: (To ???) Oh… I’m really sorry!

KANATA: He doesn’t sound like anyone here. How…?

ZACK: I don’t know… Unless…

???: (to Yun-Hua) Stop apologising. Is this really how guilty you feel?

YUN-HUA: Y-yes…

ZACK: That is the alien…!

???: (To Yun-Hua) Just how guilty do you feel?

KANATA: Then we have to hurry! Let’s go!

YUN-HUA: (To ???) Awfully, awfully guilty…!

Kanata and Zack run in the direction of Yun-Hua’s voice.

???: (To Yun-Hua) INDEED, YOU DO!

Cut to: Kanata and Zack arrive at the scene. Yun Hua lies unconscious on the floor. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[andromeda4004]

6, 13, 17, 40! (so many good questions!!)

Oooh, good choices!

6 - Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

I don't generally have my work beta'd, although I do sometimes ask my husband to read something to give me a "sense check" if I'm trying something unusual for me. I write on a word processor and I have been a professional typist, so typos aren't generally an issue, and for my day job I spend a lot of time correcting other people's written work, so my grammar and syntax is pretty good. I do like to sit on my writing for a while though; ideally I would write something, leave it a few days, then re-read (even if I wasn't editing) to spot any errors. Writing - posting - writing the next bit has been quite an adjustment for me!

13 - what's a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

Oh, tough one! I threw out a lot of the writing tips I heard as a beginner writer when I realised that they mostly make you easy to read, but not necessarily interesting. The best authors ignore them, because they have learned when they don't apply. I just googled "top writing tips" to try to answer this and they are all useful to a specific writing style, and no damn use to me. So the tips I do follow are "break rules intentionally" - learn the rules then figure out when breaking them will create the reaction you're looking for more effectively than following them would - and "know your audience". If you're writing something techie, lean into the tech; if you're writing something historical, lean into the details. If your audience didn't love that stuff as much as you do, they wouldn't have started reading it at all.

17- what do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Switch tack. I get my best moments of inspiration when I'm meant to be focusing on something else. I could not stop coming up with interesting fic ideas when I was supposed to be finishing my Regency story; I wrote quite a lot of an original novel when I was meant to be working on my degree. If I want to stay immersed in a world but I just can't do the writing at the moment, I'll get deep into the characters instead, I'll do moodboards and playlists and go window shopping for things they might own. I've also written what I think of as "deleted scenes" for my OCs, storylines which are fun but which would mess up the actual plot, because then I can get them out of my head and get back to the main idea. If I'm really stuck I'll shut the laptop and go back to crochet or sewing, something entirely separate, and let the ideas churn away in the background until they're ready.

40 - If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I've commissioned a couple of pieces of artwork for Morningstar Abbey and they were for romantic moments, I suppose. I do think about my stories in a very visual way, I know where things are in space during a scene, so I suppose I would love to see fanart of a scene that had a lot going on, because that would mean that I'd got the visual element across to the reader. My current WIP is an action/adventure so that will have a lot of very dynamic scenes that would look great on the screen! 😎

Thanks for the asks! ❤

[awigglycultist]

List of funny/incredible/my favorite quotes from the show The Last Word/Das Letzte Wort to convince you to watch it (specific looking at you starkid/tin can bros fans, Joey voices a character in the English dub. Also it's rated TV-MA and includes sexual stuff):

Some of these quotes are a bit nsfw, be warned (nothing crazy if you're a Starkid fan though really):

"you really are the crappiest shit father in the whole crappy shit crap fucking world"

"I was eight years old when my father showed me very first corpse, I helped him wash it."

"Now piss off and get out of my funeral home"

Slightly muffled in the background: "shall I just cook up some bodies!? Shall I steal some bodies from morgue!?"

"is there perverted stuff here? Do you photograph dead pussies and dicks too? Do you!?"

"why don't you tell me about your mother" "oh, mommy was a very special person." (insert very long silence)".... Can you maybe elaborate"

"you'll make a normal speech?" "yeah I'll try" "you won't call the deceased an asshole?" "I'll try, I really will, I promise"

"then you stuff the butthole with cotton wool, then bind the penis"

"no that's a phallic- that's a phallic- that's a peepee! You paint peepees! You paint penises! Even though yours wasn't-"

"uhm, do you know if your parents still..." "what?" ".... Have sex?" "I don't know. I don't want to think about that. Why would you even ask that?"

"I can't get Andi's small white ass out of my head."

"do you think I want to spend my life with a fucking 15 year old kid in a damn morgue?"

[over text] "I'm 22" "You're. An idiot" "Maybe. I have to deliver a body later. Want to help me?" "It's too complicated for me"

"honey I can explain..... I...." [leaves]

"I've been thinking. I'd like my death day next year to fall smack dab on my birthday, you can celebrate both at once, plus it'll look hilarious on my grave"

"I need a new therapist by the way" "what happened?" "I undressed in front of Zina and then kissed her on the lips"

"you know the son of the undertaker mom works with? Tall, kind of creepy? We took photos of dead people together"

"if he didn't want to be a dentist why did he paint so many teeth?" "yeah I don't really think those are meant to be teeth, do you?"

Mr Borowski on the phone to someone: "well I'm afraid I can't help you because Mr Borowski died very suddenly this morning, so. No I'm not a family member, this is the police. I'm tell you it's not a pretty site here. Yeah Mr Borowski must've been.... Pft must've been incredibly fat or at least I'm assuming so based on what's sticking to the walls here, or I guess he probably bumped into something sharp and exploded like a balloon but with lots of stuff inside. God my colleague can't stop retching. Herbert! You good now? Super. Mr Borowski left behind a note, would you like me to read it to you? It's around here somewhere. 'Piety is an alien concept' yeah seems like he was odd this guy"

"afterwards I'll clean up downstairs. Or, I guess you could just torch the place which will solve the problem with the body too"

"silence, eyecandy"

"what if it's urgent? I have just accidentally run over this clown and I don't know what to do with the body.... No? Okay. Hows this, I just came here to catch the, uhm, necrophiliacs anonymous support group. Is this the place?"

"who are you? Are you my daughters new lover?"

"would you like anything? Tea? Wine? LSD?" "maybe"

[cyberkttyy]

my man <3

My man is so damn cute. He put a selfie of me as the background of our chat today. I'm still smiling and giggling about it.

I watched him play cod yesterday and he is so good. He seems to be good at every damn thing ever. Usually without trying as well. He's very talented, he draws and raps, dances, sings, can play instruments, and on top of all that, he is very smart. I'm really proud to get to call him mine. All mine and nobody else's. He is truly one of a kind.

And don't get me started on how handsome he is. I feel like I'm looking at a Greek god except my boyfriend is way sexier. His face, body, and soul are all a masterpiece carefully crafted by the universe.

His eyes. His eyes are the most beautiful feature he has. They're so fucking beautiful. So is the rest of his face, but those eyes . . . I can get absolutely mesmerized looking into them. How can one have such beautiful eyes? How lucky am I that I get to be the one to stare into those eyes? I can't wait to stare into them. The urge to do so disturbs my peace.

I also love his ears a lot, which might sound strange but every time I see those ears I want to bite them and eat them and lick them and nibble on them until he tells me to stop because it's weird.

I don't get to admire his nose and lips as much as the rest of him, but I just know they're so perfect. I wanna kiss every inch of him. Every cell on his body is getting kissed by me. I even want to kiss his organs, hold themand hug them. I might get put on some list for saying this . . . but I do want to kiss every inch of him, including the insides. I can't help it. I just love him so much.

I love his hands too. They're so sexy. His hand tattoo of a bird looks way too good on him. All his tattoos look good. The satanist one he has on his bicep, and the snake he has wrapped around his collarbone. He's so damn cool. I have a HUGE crush on him.

He treats me so nice on top of all that. Tells me I'm beautiful every day. Calls me pet names every time he speaks to me. Compliments me for the smallest everyday things, and he doesn't stop complimenting me for stuff he already complimented me fore before. Like my voice for example, he has heard it a million times, yet every time he compliments it.

He makes sure I eat every day. Makes sure I get enough sleep. Makes sure I feel confident in myself. Makes sure I know what I mean to him. Not a lot of men would even think of doing such things, but mine does and it seems to come naturally to him. He makes me feel so loved.

He's got it all figured out. That I couldn't give a damn about anything material. I care more about actions and words, personal gifts. If he was to go for a walk to pick the pretties flowers he saw and give them to me, I'd treasure those flowers more than any expensive bouquet he could ever give me.

I already know he's going to be a great father one day. Especially with the way he treats his pets so nicely, and now with the way he treats me. I'm jealous of our future kids, to get to have a man like him as their father. I'm jealous of his siblings, to have such a good brother, and god forbid I'd be jealous of me too to have a man such as him as mine.

I really don't want to share him with anyone else. I want to lock him in his apartment and throw out all his electronics and beat the router with a hammer. Keep him all to myself. Nobody can see him. Not even his male friends can enjoy his company. And then I'd get to spend all my time with my pretty boy.

I wish everything in the world got destroyed except me and him. I wish death upon every girl who has ever even had him on their mind. Only I am allowed to think about him. Only I am allowed to look at his handsome face and admire it. I wish the world revolved around me and him.

I really hope I don't fuck this up. I have a tendency to be way too dramatic and ruin stuff because I'm so scared to lose it. If I lose him, I'll end it all. I can't live without him.

This boy is the love of my life.

[handsomegentlebutch]

Top 5 daydream scenarios.

I spend a lot a time daydreaming, so I was wondering if you had a favorite theme/scenario that plays out when you get distracted.

ooohhh okay okay. fuck this is hard but i'll try and narrow it down bc i also day dream a lot

whatever i'm writing about/planning for my motw game. once i have an idea it possesses my every thought until i can get it out, planned, and on paper where it will lay in wait to bite my friend's characters. right now i'm half working on the next big arc (i'm calling it "Magical (Murderer) Mystery Tour" and half finishing some stuff for this sunday's session. one of the pcs ran a background check on the other (they're still adjusting to the group and are really sus of each other) and her father was murdered when she was 13. i'm writing up the police report and crafting crime scene photos that he'll find. and some fun flavor stuff the player gave me about their character :3

whatever is going on in the vtm game my friend runs. i think about the npcs and our pcs so much. amadora deluca. my babygirl. my precious little meow meow. party wizard. blood freak. queen of suppressing her emotions (esp of anger and grief). mean femme lesbian icon. best vampire. can and will shoot to kill and you will thank her for it (as you should.)

Hanging w my longtime internet friends irl. i've known one 10+ years and the other 5+ years. they're in the ttrpg group that i play the above mentioned games with. i met one them SUPER briefly after they were coming home from the UK meeting our other friend when they had a layover in my city but. damn i just wanna hang out with my friends in the flesh zone. i'd kill to play one of our games in person and thats only kind of a joke. i met my british friend a few years ago in 2018, but a death in my family kinda cut the fun short, so it would be nice to have an irl visit not overshadowed by grief

i day dream about meeting the love of my life a lot. its always like... vague feelings and scenarios that leave me with butterflies in my stomach. embarrassing. i try to be vague about my future wife on purpose, even in my day dreams, bc i don't wanna set up unrealistic or idealistic expectations for someone i haven't met yet. doesn't seem fair to my future wife and also tbh? a lil unhealthy on my part. like its fine to day dream, i think its good to be a bit of a dreamer but i also don't want to be maladaptive about it, u know?

sex stuff. embarrassing how horny i am. maybe i'm just lonely and touch starved, which i'm sure is some of it. its actually almost a year since i've been hugged by a non-family member. its also been almost a year since i've had sex which is... depressing tbh. i'm a whore in theory and not in practice. so. i think about it a lot. i like to think me day dreaming about sex will make me braver and a better flirt but... i know my audience (me) far too well lmao